Grandma is dying.

When it has passed, Zhabei District Central Hospital. The emergency room smells of alcohol and potions. The light shone on the white wall, faintly reflecting a few smudges, like a cloud of smoke in the shape of a human. A lonely old man is abandoned by his children on a stretcher, accompanied only by an infusion needle inserted in a blood vessel, and when he is about to die, the little nurses will call the doctor on duty, do a symbolic rescue, and send him to the morgue in disgust. There was a woman who was pushed in, young and beautiful, presumably a college student. Long jet-black hair fell from the end of the stretcher bed, shaking the scent of shampoo. A middle-aged couple cried out that she had taken a whole bottle of sleeping pills. The doctor on duty immediately lavaged her stomach. The girl's mother whispered, "She has a baby in her belly." Then he cursed a man viciously. The girl failed to vomit the sleeping pills in her stomach, and the doctor spread his hands helplessly. Just as the family was about to kneel for the doctor, another group of people rushed in, holding a young man with a bloody young man, a sharp knife in his chest, white skin and glasses, not like a hooligan. A woman pounced on him: "He's still young...... He's still young......" The doctor reluctantly rescued him a few times, shook his head and said, "Prepare for the future!" ”

"He's still young......"

Before dawn, at the age of twenty-five, I stayed by my grandmother's side, stroking her gray hair until the electrocardiogram became a straight line. The doctor left silently, signing the death certificate.

It was Sunday, June 18, 1995, at 4:44 a.m., and my grandmother was sixty-six years old.

I was calm, didn't shed a single tear, and arranged the aftermath in an orderly manner. It was dawning, and I followed the funeral car, without the slightest fear, and accompanied my grandmother to the funeral home. I don't have any other relatives, my grandmother doesn't have a unit, people don't care about an old servant, only the family who worked before her death, sent a white envelope of 200 yuan. As for my fiancée and her family, they never met my grandmother. There's no need to do a memorial service to say goodbye to the body, all I need in this world is to say goodbye to her. I think that I am also my grandmother's favorite person, and she will definitely agree with me.

I signed countless words throughout the day, until I watched my grandmother go to the cremation furnace and watched her tiny body be sent into the crematorium, which quickly turned into a pile of bones and ashes – it reminded me of the idiom that all thoughts are ashes.

I silently picked up the hot bones, put them in the urn, held them to my chest and kissed them. I didn't have the money to buy a cemetery, so I had to store my ashes at the funeral home, as many people do.

My hands were stained with my grandmother's ashes, but I was reluctant to wash the powder off, so I pinned a black veil to my arm, decorated it with a small piece of red cloth representing my grandchildren, and got on the bus back to Nanming High School.

Late at night, exhausted, I returned to school, and just stepped through the door of my dorm room to find someone in my room. I picked up a stick and was about to hit the back of the man's head, but the other person turned around and shouted, "Hey! It's me! ”

You're fucking late! This can be considered legitimate defense!

Sure enough, it was the obscene teaching director, who took a few steps back sternly and panickedly, and held up a long list of door keys: "Don't get me wrong, I'm on duty at school tonight, and I'm just here to check the room." ”

It wasn't until I put down the stick that he noticed the black yarn on my body: "Teacher Shen, it turns out that your family has a funeral, I'm really embarrassed." ”

I stood in the doorway and watched him, if the gaze could kill.

Stern but didn't leave, he looked at my room and said, "Oh, Teacher Shen, you haven't cleaned up yet?" Early the day after tomorrow, the workers will come to install the table tennis table, can you move it on time tomorrow night? ”

With that, he walked over to the desk and touched the beaded chain on which I was hanging.

"Don't move!"

I yelled in a rage and rushed up to grab his arm, but I didn't expect him to struggle hard. Although the dean was in his forties, he was taller than me, and when the two of them were about to fall to the ground together, there was a sound of bead chains breaking and scattering.

It doesn't seem to be appropriate, is the big bead and the small bead fall on the jade plate?

I fell to the ground like crazy, looking everywhere for scattered beads. It took half an hour until I was dizzy and my thighs were numb, and I picked up all the beads.

Yan Yan had already slipped out, and I was the only one left in the room, slumped weakly on the floor, pinching dozens of beads in my palms. I managed to find a string and tried to re-thread the bead chain, but the holes in the beads were so irregular that they were hard to put on once they were broken.

Stubbornly wearing it until the wee hours of the morning, still unable to complete the bead chain, I slammed the floor hard, regardless of whether it would wake up the students downstairs. The fist was bruised, and the pain was piercing, so he could only dig out a cloth bag and put the beads away.

I lay on the bed like a zombie, my palms clutching the beads.

Tomorrow night, I'm looking forward to tomorrow night.