There are six ferries on the Lancang River, which can ferry people.
The seventh one is to overcome obsession.
In the twelfth lunar month of 1970, when Lu Zhaoshui squeezed onto the northbound train with a crumpled ticket in his hand, he had only one thought in his mind: to get through. Crossing over to a place where there is no wedding ceremony, no fifty yuan gift, and no grass on my sister's grave.
She thought she had arrived - a small northern town, where the fire was blazing, and the old teacher wearing glasses handed hot soup: "My child, please stay."
But this family's life is going backwards:
The stepmother is always mending a red coat that no one has ever worn;
Hidden in the silent eldest brother's study is half a diary filled with unfamiliar place names;
The lively little sister taught her to sing northern nursery rhymes, but the tune was inexplicably like the inflections of southern Yunnan folk songs.
Until that night when the power went out and the candlelight flickered, Lu Zhaoshui reflected in the window glass and saw a demure arc on the corner of her mouth that did not belong to her.
Outside the door, the stepmother was saying gently to Void:
"Ah Yuan, the noodles are getting cold."
It turns out that this seventh ferry,
What we cross is not the way to survive, but the unfinished life of a certain survivor.
And Lu Zhaoshui became the ship that couldn't reach the shore.
Intention: # suspense #female growth #eracure #substituteliterature #familysecret