Teacher, Give You a Book with Ink (Teacher and Student)

——Written to myself and to her When Yu Sheng was nineteen years old, Lin Zhao ignored the persuasion of other teachers and chose her composition among five people. She said: "Teachers can only choose one to guide students, and I am willing to place my bet on you." I remembered this sentence for the rest of my life for five years. On the day when she had a fever of 40°C, Yu Sheng rushed into the classroom before Lin Zhao's class. Even though she was scolded by Lin Zhao for the first time, she still came. Because there is Lin Zhao's class today, and if you don't see her for a day, you will miss a day. Every day after that, she treated him as if he were seeing her for the last time. The day Lin Zhao injured his arm, he didn't speak for the rest of his life. She just stared at that arm and thought about how much it must have hurt when Lin Zhao was beaten. From then on, he began to worship Buddha secretly for the rest of his life without believing in ghosts and gods. "I don't believe this, but I make a wish - let her get better soon and let her arm not hurt." On the day of the coming-of-age ceremony, Yu Sheng brought an old mobile phone. Everyone was taking pictures of the stage and balloons, but Yu Sheng held up his mobile phone, and the camera kept following Lin Zhao. "If she takes pictures of others, then I will take pictures of her." Before graduation, Yu Sheng gave Lin Zhao a book. There is a line written on the title page: "Teacher, I wish you happiness and success and a worry-free life." What is written in this book is everything between us. It's not an earth-shattering story. There is no confession, no ending, no one is sorry to anyone. There were only some ordinary moments - she would lecture me alone when my grades were declining, and she would quietly ask me if I had anything on my mind when I was worried. I would pretend to pass by in the corridor, the night I didn't sleep the day she hurt her arm, the blurred photo from the bar mitzvah, and the response I had been waiting for four years for. I wrote this book because I was afraid I would forget. I'm afraid that one day, I won't be able to remember her voice. I'm afraid that one day, I will no longer be able to remember how many times I read that sentence silently while lying on the desk when she selected me to write my essay when I was nineteen years old. I'm also afraid that she will forget. I'm afraid she doesn't know that in those years I went to the stairs to mop the floor every day because I wanted to see her one more time. I was afraid that she wouldn't know that I went to class even though I had a fever because she was there that day. I'm afraid that she doesn't know that every time she goes to the office to ask questions, she actually shows her uncontrollable emotions. These things I didn't dare to say back then are now written here. Even though I don't believe in gods and Buddhas, I still go in when passing by temples. My wish has never changed: Hope she is safe. Hope she is treated gently. --- This is my story with her. I write very slowly, my words are long-winded, and there is no plot. There is only one person who spends three years hiding his thoughts and four years waiting for a reply. And a book that has been turned over but has never been told to me. If you want, come in and sit down. Purpose: Dedicated to all those who have secretly hidden their thoughts in their youth - there is always someone who carefully collects your thoughts somewhere.