Library

"I'm looking up at the moon. How many dreams are flying freely..." I saw a hand sticking out from under the quilt, groping for a long time, picking up the phone and covering my head to pick it up, "Hello." There was half a sound on the other end of the phone. I squinted and looked at my phone. It was two-thirty in the morning. It's Qianqian again, day by day. "Say something. If you don't tell me, I'll die. I stayed up most of the night and did things that disturbed people's dreams." I only heard a whimpering sound coming from my ears. I sat up and suddenly lost my sleepiness, "What's up, sister. Don't cry yet, let's talk about it first." The one on the other end was crying even harder, babbling, and for a long time I couldn't understand what was being said. The heads are all big. .... That's it, I don't know when it started. It became a late-night emotional hotline for me, and I was nicknamed "Teacher Nan" by my quarrelsome friends. (This story is purely fictitious and any similarity is purely coincidental.)