My son and I grew up together.
We shared milk when we were babies, we were babbling when we were three, and when I was eight, my son held my hand and silently watched the first death we witnessed.
When he was thirteen years old, his lips and teeth made contact with mine for the first time. When he was seventeen years old, we fought to death in the wind and rain. When he was eighteen years old, the young master abandoned me and stayed alone on that warm spring day.
When I was carving his tombstone, I suddenly remembered that I had never asked him what epitaph he wanted to carve.
Purpose: Socialism is good, don't be fooled by feudal society