He was born on a snowy night. His mother protected his heartbeat with her life.
At the age of seven, he saved money to buy medicine for his mother. When he was fourteen years old, his mother sent him away to buy a bowl of porridge and never came back. He thought it was because he "failed to catch up", and this thought had weighed on him for half his life.
Later he became a cardiac surgeon. Save many people, but you can't save your own silence. You pay a lot of money, but you can't afford a confession to your lover. Until his wife opened the tin candy box that he had hidden for fifteen years - it was full of "come on" that she had said. Only then did he realize that there was someone who had been waiting for him to speak.
"Whenever you want to speak, I will listen."
This is a story about "being heard".
About how a person spits out the words he has swallowed half his life bit by bit.
About a long journey that begins on a snowy night and ends in spring.
The heartbeat has a sound, as long as you are willing to listen.
Concept: Why write such a story?
I've seen too many people over the years who "can't speak out".
In my parents' generation, love was made with actions and words were hidden. They carried it all their lives and said nothing when they left. All that was left was the medicine bottle deep in the closet, the bankbook in the drawer, and a lie he told him before he died. After they're gone, the child will have to wonder for years - what was she thinking? Does she feel any pain? Did she ever blame me?
I have also seen too many "inaudible" relationships. Between husband and wife, between parents and children, it's not that they don't love each other, it's that they "can't express it". One is waiting for the other person to speak, and the other doesn't know how to speak. If you wait and wait, the words will rot in your stomach; if you hold them in, the person will stay away.
What I want to write about is: is it possible for those things that cannot be said to be heard.
Not by "speaking out" - because some people never learn to speak in their lifetime. It's through "being seen": you saw her hiding the medicine bottle, you saw him holding the iron box against his chest, you saw her squatting in the corridor and twitching her shoulders but making no sound - you saw these and you heard them.
Hearing requires no words. Sometimes it's the opposite: words are the barrier, actions speak the truth.