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When I Opened the Door to the Counselor's Dormitory, What I Saw Was the Academic Staff
General Fiction当我打开辅导员宿舍的门，看到的却是教务员
Mr. Malone
The first prize winner in the feature section of the 2nd Rising Star International Mystery Literature Award. I was invited to attend a wedding and met many of the students I taught when I was a counselor in college. During the conversation, everyone recalled the past events on campus: the mobile phone that disappeared in the activity room, the high-end car that I ran into on a blind date, the hotly discussed online exposure post, the strange live broadcast on the platform, the biology classroom The damaged teaching aids in the dormitory, the burglary that occurred in the dormitory during the graduation group photo... The daily mysteries that happened on campus in the past have all been answered at the time of the incident. But now when I communicate with the parties again, I find that behind these seemingly unrelated events, there seems to be a pair of invisible hands secretly controlling them. When the beauty of youth fades away from the color of the past. Is the rest helplessness and bitterness, or a turbulent undercurrent? Everything will end at that staggered door of memory.
The first prize winner in the feature section of the 2nd Rising Star International Mystery Literature Award. I was invited to attend a wedding and met many of the students I taught when I was a counselor in college. During the conversation, everyone recalled the past events on campus: the mobile phone that disappeared in the activity room, the high-end car that I ran into on a blind date, the hotly discussed online exposure post, the strange live broadcast on the platform, the biology classroom The damaged teaching aids in the dormitory, the burglary that occurred in the dormitory during the graduation group photo... The daily mysteries that happened on campus in the past have all been answered at the time of the incident. But now when I communicate with the parties again, I find that behind these seemingly unrelated events, there seems to be a pair of invisible hands secretly controlling them. When the beauty of youth fades away from the color of the past. Is the rest helplessness and bitterness, or a turbulent undercurrent? Everything will end at that staggered door of memory.