So sad, maybe no one cares about me? Then why don't I die? As a young boy, he was covered in quilt, sobbing quietly. But if I die, my mother, father, and brother who likes to bully me will definitely be sad, right? As he thought about it, he seemed to see his relatives crying loudly at his funeral, and the tears he tried to suppress poured out like a river bursting its banks. Then I won't die. He buried his head in the quilt and let the cotton inside greedily suck his tears. In order not to make them sad, I still have to live well.