Song Zhiqiu died in a very ordinary early morning.
At hand is a system report that has been revised to the seventh version, a cup of cool coffee is on the table, and there is a 47-second call on the phone - a call from her mother, asking if she will come home after eleven. She said she would go back after finishing her work. She wasn't done yet.
When I opened my eyes again, the music of radio gymnastics blasted from the speakers at the end of the corridor. Someone threw a sock from the upper bunk and hit her quilt, with a voice as loud as shouting prices at the vegetable market - "Qiuqiu! Get up! You're going to be late!!"
She lay on the hard canopy bed and stared at the upper bunk for a long time. Then he raised his right hand in front of his eyes - a twenty-one-year-old hand, without mouse calluses or the hard skin worn by the keyboard. She pressed her fingertips against a light blue blood vessel on the back of her hand and felt it beating under the skin. Still alive.
Once again, she is no longer obsessed with getting rich suddenly. Getting rich suddenly is so tiring. She was tired enough in her previous life.
She remembered the cup of tea that Zhou Yuanzhou handed him in his previous life - she didn't drink it at the time. In this life, she stood in the corridor, holding the cup of tea in both hands, and drank it in one sip. The tea was a bit bitter, but the aftertaste was very light and long-lasting. It was so light that she had to wait for a long time to get it.
At the moment she waited, she thought to herself: If I could do it all over again, even a cup of tea would taste so good.
This is the story of a man who used all the experiences and regrets he had accumulated over forty years to live his life again.
Intention: It's still not too late, start treating yourself well from today