1923. Autumn.
He was still wearing the navy blue robe, tall and thin.
When he talked about poems about autumn, he laughed calmly and said: "In China, we have a saying, 'The cool autumn breeze makes me want to kiss my mother'! This is a common saying..."
He smiled, then froze there. My eyes followed the falling maple leaves closely, and I felt a lump in my throat.
The whole class fell silent. The bitterness in his smile filled the air, causing everyone to stop laughing and just look at him quietly.
I think, this Christmas, let's invite him to our house.
[The story of a British boy and his teacher Mr. Wu in the Shanghai Concession. An old short story with a literary bias.
Intention: The light of inherited will
