Mom's Secret Room

She half-closed the screen of her old computer. The fan is still running. More than two hours ago, she discovered in the phone settings that the phone had dual SIM cards - SIM 1 was the number she had memorized since she was a child, SIM 2 was an old number that was stored in her mother's address book, and the note was just two words. She tried logging into WeChat. Went in. Then the old computer turned on. She was dragged away by "When I Was a Child". Those years of pigs and grease, paper lanterns and Shaolin Temple - she plunged into her mother's childhood and almost forgot that she had opened another WeChat account just now. Now she looked up from the old document. Mother's daily mobile phone is still on on the coffee table - the WeChat account logged in with the old account is hanging in the background. The avatar is a wild flower. She picked it up. Seven friends. She had only glanced briefly at it just now. Now she plans to look at them one by one. Not curious. It was after she looked through the surface of the earth - those sunshine, those "have you eaten yet", those messages that will never be answered - that she suddenly wanted to know one thing: What does her mother look like in this WeChat without her family?