The reason why I suddenly talk about 1993 is probably just because in a memory, having an exact time will make people feel more credible.

Although this memory, I feel unreliable. Even so, I remembered to tell some stories from the past.

I was three years old in 1993, what do you remember at that time? Probably arguing to go back to two years old.

Because at the age of two I can ride on my father's neck, while at the age of three I have to walk on my own.

Around that time, I understood that growing up wasn't something to look forward to.

Sure enough, I was in a car accident when I was about four or five years old.

Probably the only thing I remember is that blood flowed into the eyes, and the whole sky was red. My father ran to the hospital with me in his arms.

1996, Kindergarten. When I was a child, the children were very naughty, and it coincided with the popularity of martial arts dramas, many friends had bamboo knives and bamboo swords, and those with bamboo in their yards could even make a green dragon glaive knife.

Seriously, I'm not envious at all. Because I think the real masters don't use weapons.

Those who are empty-handed are always heroes, and those who use swords are minions.

Until a little friend who used the Heavenly Sword proposed to "ask for advice on Your Excellency's Eighteen Palms of Dragon Descent." ”

To this day, I still think that if it weren't for the fact that I would have been the "three masters" of the kindergarten class at that time.

It was when the true qi was too big to recover, and he definitely wouldn't stab me with a sword.

As a result, there was a black spot in my left eye near the tear duct that would never go away, and that little friend had a shadow deep down in his heart that would never go away.

When my dad took me to the hospital, his dad also wanted to keep him in the hospital.

If it weren't for my dad saying: They are all children, and they will pay some medical expenses. The little friend is estimated to be beaten by his father from surgery to internal medicine to the morgue.

Since then, he has stopped practicing swords. I once thought that the generals I had harmed were going to lose a famous swordsman. I blame myself for this.

As a result, he told me that when his dad slapped him on the ground and couldn't get up, he thought I was right.

"The real masters really don't use weapons......" was the last thing he said to me that afternoon, and his tone was full of vicissitudes.

Sure enough, the only way to make a person mature is frustration. Although at that time I didn't understand what frustration meant.

By now, I can't remember what that little guy's name was or what he looked like. I just remember, I ate eggs for a long time that summer.