Zhuo Jun only glanced at it.
The coffin lid was raised and moved to the side, revealing the deceased's gray face. The shroud was connected with the darkness, and the face took up only a small proportion.
She looked away, turned and walked out.
Everyone in the room looked at her in surprise.
Not a single tear shed? This glance seems too perfunctory.
Zhuo Jun didn't know them, but he didn't want to be seen either. She lowered her head and carefully walked the country road with cracked cement. Two thoughts flashed alternately in her mind: Fortunately, she wasn't wearing high heels; the person in the coffin was my father.
There is an asphalt road at the entrance of the village. She got off here just now, and the taxi has already left. She has to think about a new question: How do I get there?
——"How are you leaving?" Zhuo Chen caught up.
When they were young - until the year they parted, the two of them were very similar. Now, no one can tell that they are siblings.
——"I'll take a taxi." Zhuo Jun waved his hand at him, "You go back."
Zhuo Chen looked towards the end of the road. His hair was tangled and oily, and there was still dust on his forehead: "There are no taxis here." He lowered his head and fiddled with his phone, "I'll find a taxi to take you there."
As soon as he finished speaking, he heard footsteps and a young man in his early 20s came running.
Zhuo Chen said: "Fuck, so fast?"
The young man drove a big car and Zhuo Jun got into the passenger seat.
From this perspective, you can just see the cement path leading directly to Zhuo Chen's yard. She always felt that the eyes that followed her just now still had lingering traces. She looked at them fiercely, but there was nothing there. There were a lot of people, everyone was busy with their own business.
Zhuo Chen knocked on the car door and lowered the window. He said, "Sister, when will you be back?"
After her father passed away, Zhuo Chen contacted her several times, and then the two siblings met again ten years later.
Zhuo Chen said: "Sister, I'm still here..." Across the window, he lowered his head, looking very tired and lonely.
Zhuo Jun felt sour in his chest, but he still said calmly: "The matter is done, you have a good rest - call if you need something."
On the way back to the village, the car bumped happily, and the music filled the carriage: "Can we meet again? I have been praying in front of the Buddha for thousands of years..." Suddenly he turned down the volume, picked up the phone and respectfully called out "Brother!"
"It's been delivered. Don't worry, brother, while I do the work."
"She thought Zhuo Chen asked me to send it, and I didn't explain it."
"I just bought the tickets and I got a call, telling me who my classmates were, and wanted to have a meal or something, and then I left, that's all."
The other party hung up the phone.
[Cold essay author's fifth book]
Purpose: History of Rural Children's Struggle