On National Day, I made an appointment with my pianist wife to go to Vienna to watch a concert. Before leaving, my wife sent a message that the band had an emergency performance and I couldn't go. I silently canceled all my reservations, but that afternoon, I saw her young male student's circle of friends: In the video, she was usually delicate, with her trouser legs rolled up, standing in the muddy paddy field, using her hands worth tens of millions to plant rice seedlings hard, covered in mud. The accompanying text was: "The teacher's hands can not only play music in the palace, but also sow hope in the fields." My heart suddenly tightened and I commented: "This season's rice will surely return to the warehouse with a sound like the sound of nature." As soon as I sent it, her phone call roared, "Do you have to use your meanness to destroy a child's pure love for art?" I hung up the phone decisively. After the National Day, let this marriage end too.
