Life Is Like a Feather, Sleeping and Cultivating Immortality Will Lead to Immortality

When I reach middle age, I have an old father who is seriously ill and takes medicine all year round. I have two rebellious children who are not at all considerate. I am surrounded by my exhausted wife, and behind me is a small shop that is getting deserted and has no hope. With a heavy burden on his shoulders, he was not even qualified to fall. The night was getting deeper and deeper, the streets were completely quiet, and no customers came in. Zhang Chengan closed the rolling shutter door, counted the few sales for the day, packed up the futures, and got into the small cubicle at the back of the store. An old single bed and a small table with peeling paint are where he rests every day. He collapsed on the bed, with pain all over his bones. His eyelids were as heavy as lead, but his mind was still terrifyingly clear. The sky suddenly changed outside the window, the wind rolled over with dark clouds, thunder boomed, and big raindrops hit the glass hard, and the crackling sound filled the whole shop. Zhang Chengan stared at the yellowed ceiling, listened to the sound of rain, and suddenly felt very tired. It's not physical fatigue, it's the kind of fatigue that oozes from the bottom of my heart and can't stop no matter what. This is probably how it will be for the rest of my life. He closed his eyes and stopped thinking about those messy things. | | | | | | | Or is he already dead on this rainy night?