Pray, that ridiculous and hateful god will not redeem you
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Jian Qiuhuai's perspective:
Fourteen years ago, when I was twenty, I picked up a child next to a trash can.
He looked to be only six or seven years old, too dirty to recognize his true appearance, and so thin that his ribs were protruding. He was curled up among the garbage bags like an abandoned kitten. When I squatted down, he shrank suddenly, and there were cigarette burn scars on his arms.
I picked him up, as light as a ball of paper.
Later he cleaned himself up and found out he was a very beautiful boy. The eyes are very dark, and they seem to suck people in when they look at them. He is extremely clingy to me. He follows me wherever I go. He always sleeps next to me at night and holds on to the corner of my clothes before closing his eyes. I told him stories, and he listened quietly, occasionally asking "What next?" In a small voice.
Later——
At 1.9 Meters tall, he is half a head taller than me. My shoulders have broadened, my jawline has strengthened, my voice has become deeper, but only the way those eyes look at me remains the same. No, it's still changed. It used to be dependence and caution, but now it's something else. When he said "brother", the ending sound was always very low, as if he was holding something that he couldn't swallow.
I sometimes wonder if I raised him bad.
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Simple perspective:
Fourteen years ago, I burned that hellish home down. When the fire lit up half the street, I sat next to the trash can and my whole body ached.
A man stopped to look at me. I reflexively shrank my shoulders, waiting for a kick. But he just squatted down and said in a very soft voice: "Will you come home with me?"
He gave me a bath and tested the water temperature again and again. He applied the medicine to me, his fingers were steady but his breathing was shaky. At night he told me stories, and his voice flowed over me like warm water. I held on to the hem of his clothes, which was all the strength of my seven-year-old self.
Later, I grew taller and taller, but he was still the same. He didn't smile much and was a little cold to everyone. I started to hate him talking to other people. I started to want to hide him. Start staring at his eyelashes for long periods of time while he sleeps.
At night, I pressed him into my arms, and he pushed my chest in a daze, muttering that it was too hot. I didn't let go.
I think I'm probably sick.
But if he knew what the child he raised was thinking - what would his expression be.
The arrogant and easy-going kitten (suffer) x the aloof wolf (attack) who is only nice to kittens. Who will win?
Intention: It's just a fake family relationship, don't take it seriously
