Her face appears in the yellowed photograph, but it is her and not her......

My mind was in a state of confusion, as if a swarm of bees were buzzing around in my head, my nerves were broken and continuous, and my previous memories were pouring out like a tidal wave. Gradually, my breathing was no longer short, and although the cold sweat continued to break out, my mind calmed down. Slowly, I found the time I had with her—the little memory that was almost dusty in the past.

It was a rainless night and a summer breeze. She and I sat on the grass with the heat dissipated, and I didn't know why we were so close together.

I watched other people's lives as if I were going to a movie, even though the characters were very familiar to me.

Her long hair covered the side of her face, and I didn't pay attention to her expression at that time, but concentrated on pounding the ant nest, letting the ants flee in all directions, my eyes gradually blurred, and I didn't know what I was looking at, I was in a daze. She was chattering beside her, but I didn't hear a word, she seemed to be in a hurry, her tone was aggravated, and she spoke quickly, but I still couldn't understand what she was saying, or maybe I didn't want to listen at all.

For some reason, she paused, followed by a silent silence. As I turned my head, she grabbed me and seemed to be crying, and the water droplets hit me in the face little by little.

At this time, she was as flustered as an ant, and she could only hide her inner fear by crying. I didn't speak, and I just waved my hand when I wanted to express my meaning, no different from being dumb.

I looked up and saw a different her, or this was her original appearance, but she became ugly at school, and she was originally beautiful. Why do you want to be ugly? I don't know now, it seems like I knew before. It's like taking an exam and suddenly discovering a problem that I had solved before, but I couldn't think of a solution.

Secretly, no one has ever seen her true face except me, at least I can think so. But now, the secret is here, for no reason, without warning—in my hands.

My thinking gradually became clearer, and I used the reverse method to find out the story behind the photograph: she suddenly appeared and later died, only four years later, or the year I graduated, she died. It wasn't until a few years after her death that I learned the bad news from my classmates. Before she died, she must have been the same as when she appeared, that is, no one in the village knew her story, only that she appeared as a volunteer teacher. And how did those two Cantonese people use the villagers' remarks as an excuse to explain her death? There was a mistake in the logic of the principle, and the two Cantonese people were clearly lying, but the problem came again, they brought the photo, and I was asked to pick it up, and I discovered their mistake by coincidence? If this is the way of thinking, it implies that they must know her when I know this mistake, or at least know where she came from. Now that you know where she came from, why don't you just tell me that the only person who knows her secret has to lead me into the cave to find her?

If we put aside the previous conjectures, there are two possibilities: one is that they don't know what she looks like after disguise, and the scene where they met me happened accidentally, and it was a very special "villager" who told them that the photo girl was dead, and like me, they also knew the secret. Changing her mind, that special "villager" is the one who knows where she comes from. The second is that they already know what I already know, and they deliberately guide me, so secretive, I am afraid that they have some scruples.

In this way, it is divided into purposeful and purposeless, but whether it is purposeful or purposeless, this photo is the key, as long as you know where the photo came from, then you can find out her past, I think so.

In any case, the photos cannot be returned to them. It's not that it's all selfish, but that it really really has an allusion to her past, and that's why I'm here in the first place—her past, or rather my past with her—the vanishing memory.

After clearing my mind, I put away the photos and exited the narrow water hole little by little.

However, when I came out, I found that the gazebo was empty, the rain did not stop, but there were no two figures, I walked into the gazebo with doubts, the shoe prints on the floor were very messy, but if you looked closely, you could see that there were no other shoe prints except for the sneaker prints and board shoe prints of the two people.

I couldn't think of anything very important, and I left without notice, leaving in a hurry, leaving nothing behind. But what really bothered me was that my clothes were gone......

In retrospect, I was covered in mud, and even though there were several layers of gauze wrapped around the wound, it was still very itchy. Luckily, I caught the rain and scrubbed the mud off my body, otherwise I would have had to bathe in the muddy stream.

Tighten my leash and get ready to go, even though I look like a stray dog.

The next thing is very clear, go back to the clinic and find Aare. Maybe Ale is the one who solves the photo problem, and although it's unlikely, I think I have to ask. Maybe he knew what had happened between me and her the year I graduated.

Fortunately, it was in the hot summer, otherwise it would have been wet like this, and it would have been sick.

Without deep thinking, I seemed to return to my normal human state, and began to complain, cursing the person who took my clothes in vicious language, cursing the rain that came without saying anything, and cursing the driver of the bus...... This is the normal me, I don't like to explore human nature with logic, but I have already encountered it, and I have to dig out my mind and think about the future—what is good for me.

When my dad was drunk, he talked to me a lot about personality and other things that were out of tune, and he glared at me and said that people like me can only live with a mask on, die with a mask, and can't see themselves clearly, and when I realize that I need to take off the mask, it's time to go to hell.

Later, as I grew up, my dad stopped talking nonsense, but the first thing he taught me to write was not "dad" or "mommy", but ....... I don't understand why my biological father did this to me, but I can really tell the fact that he doesn't like me. I often wonder if I was given the consolation prize by him, otherwise how would he feel unhappy with me?

Suddenly, a motorcycle whizzed past me, and the splash really scared me, and I didn't reach the speed of moving beyond my consciousness, and I watched my whole body be brushed by dirty water.

Misfortune is not a one-way street, originally I was on fire in my heart, but this time I was even more angry, and instantly picked up the stone at my feet, but when I saw that it was a police car, I was stunned. At this moment, I was moving far faster than I was conscious, and by the time I regretted it, the stone was already following behind the police. But fortunately, I didn't use too much strength, and the stone obviously lacked stamina, and there was already a tendency to resign myself to landing. Fate always inadvertently turned his head, the policeman braked, landed on one foot, took off his helmet, and shook off a head of black and silky hair......

"Bastard, you, you actually attacked the police!"