I always feel that those leaves fall hurriedly to conceal a great secret, and when I use my own hands to pull them away one by one, what I see is always the black asphalt road. It’s like squatting by the roadside, watching a cloud slowly drift across the sky. I stare blankly at the heavens, wondering what will be revealed once the cloud passes, but behind the cloud is still the tiless, unchanging sky. It remains the sa sky, always blue. In the sa way, ti and again, I walk paths that differ from mine, but in the end, the outcos I face remain unchanged, no matter how I try. One day, I thought to myself that I should walk a path unlike anyone else’s—a path to prove to my parents that every decision I’ve made in this life is not wrong, but always right.
Many tis, it’s due to these inexplicable doubts, or these thoughts sparked by uncertainty, that I exhaust myself completely. I think I truly live a miserable life. The people around always say that I am lonely, but am I truly not lonely? Whenever I reflect on my actions, was I genuinely living happily and joyfully? I’ve never attained the things I truly desire. The friends I played with—none remain. Perhaps it’s because I’ve lacked the company of my parents from the very beginning, making them see as nothing more than an orphan, unworthy of playing with them. Yet, you’ll never see the tis when I love you the most, because I only love you with all my heart when you are out of sight. Every ti I see my parents, every ti I look at your photographs, I feel such bitter resentnt that I wish I could tear them apart—because you’ve brought all the pain in my life.
I’ve thought before, if I were a willow tree standing on a hillside, blooming clusters of white loneliness in the wind, how wonderful that would be. But I have nothing.
Back then, I naïvely dread of living a truly peaceful life, doing a stable and ordinary job, just finding soone to love wholeheartedly, getting married simply, living in a modest ho. To , that would be happiness. All I ever need is to be a good husband, a good father, a good grandson—and that would be enough. Happiness held in the palm of the hand should be straightforward and transparent, like two swans flying across the sky together—so simple, so joyful. Yet my personality is so complex. Others say they understand , but I just laugh at them. Often, I laugh in front of others, but behind their backs, I silently shed tears. No one can comprehend the anguish deep within . Many tis, when sadness overwhelms , the tears haven’t yet welled up, but a smile is already etched on the corners of my eyes. I only get angry with the people I care about, while I smile at those I don’t like. Until one day, I realized that the outcos I kept encountering were never what I wanted—instead, they benefitted those around who sought to harm . Only then did I understand that all those smiles weren’t my strongest tool. Instead, they might have only encouraged those indifferent to to hurt over and over again—for they have no idea what I truly want. Deep within their hearts, I’m just soone who can be hurt casually. To them, I’m utterly insignificant, and no matter what I do, nothing truly matters.
Zhang Zhentian said nothing. He just listened in quiet silence as his child poured out her personal experiences and recounted every mory from her past.
Because he understood that whatever he decided to do now would likely be fruitless; it was better to take practical action—to truly listen to his son and hear out all his life stories from the past years. Perhaps that was the best way to show care for his son. All the years of bitterness and pain could finally be poured out in one cathartic mont, releasing a weight suppressed deep within for over ten years. How liberating it must feel for her to unburden herself this way.
"Do you all know? Ti and again, I’ve wondered what I should do, but I’ve never imagined what kind of outco I would end up with. I thought my life was modest and bleak, but exactly how bleak—there isn’t a single person who could ever understand. Not one person could ever grasp what dwells in the deepest recesses of my heart. Ti and again, I’ve pondered how I should live, yet I’ve entirely forgotten to ask myself to what extent I truly want to live.
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