Pain.

It hurts.

Wu Zong felt as if all his nerves had been sealed, and only the piercing pain in his heart was so real.

Starting from the sunken and fractured back of his head, the extreme pain spread all the way to the crooked leg bones, and he knew that the bones all over his body were almost shattered, and the wounds on the flesh were all over his body, and the wounds of various sizes were gurgling out, and he lay on the bone-chilling ice like a strong tuna caught by a harpoon, and the small scarlet puddle of blood that allowed him to breathe was under him.

He knew that he was going to die soon, and crossing two levels to challenge the almighty 'Heavenly Father' was a decision to go and never return.

He took a hard breath and sang quietly.

"Long ...... Outside the pavilion, by the ancient road, the grass ...... The evening breeze blows...... The sound of the willow flute is remnant, and the evening ...... Yang...... Mountains outside the mountain. ”

He sang "Farewell" intermittently, his lungs were gradually seeping into the blood, and when he inhaled, there was a sizzling sound, like a tattered radio.

It's like opening a coffin stacked with heavy dust and sand, too many years.

It was the first time he had performed with Qiqi at the school's opening ceremony, he played the accordion, and Qiqi sang.

'How beautiful she is,' thought Wu Zong, 'like a lark'.

The sky was blue and there was no heavy yellow nuclear bomb dust, the grass was green and would not be irrigated with blood, the streets were full of old grannies pushing carts selling vanilla ice cream, and now the streets are full of rotting corpses with broken concrete piers and mottled barbed wire.

And Qiqi.

Wu Zong struggled to raise his head slightly, it almost killed him, and he wanted to take one last look at Qiqi lying on his chest.

Half of her delicate and beautiful face was now left, her skull was shattered, her pretty cheeks had been torn apart, and the blurred flesh was pasted on her exposed teeth, the temperature here was too low, and a thin layer of ice had formed on her flesh.

Despite this, he still felt that Qiqi was so beautiful and moving. He trembled and stretched out his hand to cover half of Qiqi's already mutilated and broken face, as if he was afraid that she would catch a cold.

"The end of the sky, the ...... of the earth Corner, acquaintance...... His singing continued, but the cold currents that kept inhaling into his lungs were freezing the blood foam in his lungs, and his voice became smaller and smaller: "A pot of turbid wine...... Have fun, tonight, tonight...... Don't ......"

He didn't finish the song in the end.

At the last second of his life, Wu Zong asked himself in his heart.

Is it worth it for everything I've done? ’

He didn't wait for an answer.

In 2030 AD, the Antarctic settlement, the snow over the Navagaon Ice Sheet was scattered by endless zombies, and the howling and crazy corpse tide flattened the last settlement of mankind, and none of the world's 7.5 billion people were spared.

After 7 million years on Earth, the species known as 'Humans' and the last civilization it created were buried under the ice sheet along with this heavy snowfall.

In just ten years, humans were completely eradicated, and new species appeared on the stage.

"Let's look at the next question, in 1942, which battle on the European battlefield was called the turning point of World War II?" In the endless silence and darkness, a middle-aged man's voice suddenly sounded: "Wu Zong, you can answer." ”

Wu Zong heard someone calling his name in a trance, and subconsciously opened his eyes, but found that what he was in front of was not the ice and snow of Antarctica, but a large stack of thick books and test papers.

It seems true that people say that before they die, they will flash back to the most nostalgic time of their lives.

Wu Zong muttered in his heart.

"Classmate Wu Zong?" the man's voice called his name again: "It's almost time to take the college entrance examination, so let's discuss with Zhou Gong first, don't play chess again." ”

The students in the classroom laughed as the man spoke.

Then, Wu Zong felt an elbow arch over himself, and a pleasant girl's voice called out to him in a low voice: "Wu Zong, get up, the teacher called you." ”

This voice Wu Zong is too familiar.

It's Qiqi!

He sat up straight and turned his head to look over.

Wu Zongzheng was facing the girl's delicate and fair face, a pair of thin lips were coated with shiny lipstick, and a pair of watery peach blossom eyes on the bridge of the tall nose were slightly complaining.

The girl was taken aback by Wu Zong, then patted her chest and breathed a long sigh of relief, and whispered with some complaints: "Why are you always startled." ”

It seems that God still favored him in the last time, Wu Zong never thought that he could still see Qiqi ten years ago in the flashback.

"Qiqi," Wu Zong's eyes widened, the girl's figure was like the last oasis in the desolate and boundless desert in his pupils, and his trembling hand stretched out to Qiqi's white neck like a swan: "I ......"

Syllable!

Before Wu Zong could finish speaking, Qi Qi slapped the back of Wu Zong's hand, blushing shyly and sobbing, "What are you doing." ”

"Ahem," the teacher cleared his throat, but he was also enlightened: "Classmate Wu Zong, show affection can wait for the end of class." ”

The students in the classroom burst into laughter, making Qiqi blush-faced and unable to find a crack in the ground to get into.

Wu Zong looked at the students watching the play, and laughed along, there is no hunger and death in this class, there is no conspiracy and riot, there are only kind classmates, kind teachers, and the love of his life.

It's been nearly eight years, or ten years, and Wu Zong calculated in his heart that he had never laughed so easily.

He stood up and finally answered the teacher's question: "From July 17, 1942 to February 2, 1943, which lasted six and a half months, the Battle of Stalingrad in the European theater became the most important battle to turn the tide of World War II. ”

"Standard answer," the teacher nodded, "Please be seated." ”

But Wu Zong didn't sit down, he opened his mouth and greeted the history teacher who walked to the podium: "Teacher." ”

"What's wrong?" the history teacher looked back at Wu Zong.

This history teacher will intersperse his own introduction to history and politics from time to time when he lectures, and his lessons are never superficial, and he will also lead students to explore those human reflections and life wisdom behind history.

It is no exaggeration to say that some of his concepts have deeply influenced the formation of Wu Zong's outlook on values and life in this life.

Wu Zong stepped out of his seat and bowed deeply to the teacher: "The student is very grateful to the teacher for cultivating me. ”

This sentence made the teacher stunned, and then waved his hand: "The master led the door, and the cultivation is personal, I can't talk about the word cultivation, but thank you." ”

Wu Zong smiled and nodded and returned to his seat, and after sitting down, he looked at Qiqi with his face in his hands.

"Why are you always looking at me," Qiqi's shy little red face just now just went down, and he was a little embarrassed by Wu Zong, who had been looking at him, and whispered: "What's wrong with you today, why are you so weird." ”

"It's no wonder," Wu Zong shook his head, and then was a little stunned: "If I can, I'm willing to look at you like this for the rest of my life." ”

"Hooligan," Qi Qi turned his head and said coquettishly, as he stretched out his hand and twisted Wu Zong's thigh vigorously.

"It hurts, it hurts," Wu Zong gasped and whispered with grinning teeth.

He was about to open his mouth to say something sensual, but suddenly he reacted.

Hurt?

How can I be in pain?

Am I not dead?

"Qiqi," he patted Qiqi's shoulder hesitantly, realizing something: "You pinch me again." ”

"What's wrong with you," Wu Zong today is too strange, don't you have any mental problems due to too much pressure to study, Qi Qi looked a little worried.

Although he didn't understand what Wu Zong was going to do, he still pinched him lightly.

The slight pain, transmitted through the muscular nerves on the outside of his thigh, to Wu Zong's brain told him that it was a real touch.

He sat up straight, took Qiqi's thermos cup and poured a sip of water, the warm liquid flowed down his esophagus and into his stomach, and he lowered his head and touched the floor, the cold touch of the tiles spreading down his fingertips.

He had to admit his guesses.

It seems that none of this is a flashback before death.

"I was born again. ”