Fellow inmates share their experiences with each other. When they heard that I had been a fool, they asked me why I did that. Everyone is indefinite, and the rest of their lives have to rely on death.

There is only one piece of Lego left, and the home is about to take shape.

My mother has recently been battered by rumors in the village, which are all caused by him. She persuaded her kindly, but he didn't listen at all, and became more and more arrogant to the point that he didn't go home for several days in a row. When he came home, he was so drunk that he even kicked his mother out of the room.

She cried and cried all day long, and turned her home into a fishbowl, about to suffocate us people. I miss when she was younger, who doesn't love beauty? But she was about to cry all this beauty.

I vowed to teach him a lesson and wait for him to come home next time.

The sun outside the house was very bright, and the sunlight shone on the room through the curtains, "that is the model". I didn't hesitate to put the last piece in. In fact, as long as I don't mention it, no one can find it broken, it is like a perfect replica, and in fact I am also copying this home.

The room was better projected in the sunlight, and I watched from God's point of view and laughed at what was happening in the room. I didn't really think it was funny, I was just forced to laugh by the truth that I had seen through. I'm not a good person, but who in this room is a good person. I try to recreate all the characters, when and where they should do what. Where and what to do is easy to solve, time can only depend on daylight. Luckily, I have a talent for controlling daylight, such as dragging them off the bed one by one in the morning and placing them at the table, even at midday and sunset. The rest of the time, everyone will gather on the sofa in the living room, and the number of people in the family is a fixed number, and there are no more than four people in total. Everyone neatly faced the silent TV set, and performed a non-wonderful mime together. Models can't talk nonsense like people, but fortunately, there are people in the audience like me who are familiar with the plot and can memorize the lines backwards.

When the afternoon sun dawned, the harsh sunlight was still dazzling after the curtains filtered it. I moved people from the living room to the dining room and arranged them neatly. The kitchen smelled of oil smoke again, and the range hood at home became more and more useless. I shouted to my mother to open the window, but she didn't hear me. The fried meat with chili choked people, and the mother soaked in it, sneezing non-stop. I got up, pulled back the curtains in the living room, and pushed the window open. Like a swarm of trapped bees, they fled as if they had forgotten to sting me in the face, and tried to elope with the curtains.

The chili stir-fried meat is served in a few seconds. When my mother saw that I was opening the window, the hand holding the plate hovered in the air for a while, and yes, it seemed that my own conditions did not allow these movements. I sat back in the living room as if nothing had happened, and laid out the "house" facing north and south, and the sunlight passed through the living room to the bedroom, and then through the front door to the kitchen, and everything became clear.

Mother pulled the kitchen window open, and the smell finally dissipated.

Lunch has always been just me and her, but in the last few months, it has been the same for all three meals. There are usually three bowls of food on the table for two people, but that day was different, there were four large bowls on the table, and in addition to a pot of soup.

"Daddy will be back today." My mother was explaining to me. She glanced at me after she had finished speaking, and suddenly remembered that the person she was chatting with might not be able to understand the explanations.

"Oh." I also responded. I was most afraid that this kind of knee-jerk flash would betray myself, but I have been a fool for more than 20 years, and I am tired of it and want to change my appearance.

My mother was still busy setting up the dishes and chopsticks, and she forgot to take the soup spoon, so she turned around and went to the kitchen again.

Coincidentally, he showed up on time for the meal. He also carried a black bag in his hand.

"The lobster brought back from the factory, dinner or supper, whatever you want." He threw the bag into the pool, and he would throw everyone alive to death. But I guess it was originally dead.

When the mother saw the black thing, she quickly put down the spoon in her hand and poured it out. She turned on the faucet, maybe water is the source of life, can revive those dying blackened river fresh. "You came back just in time, let's go to dinner, I stewed soft-shelled turtle soup for you."

I glanced at the bowl of soup, and it turned out that the rotten thing with loose flesh and bones was called a soft-shelled turtle. I stretched my chopsticks in, trying to save the thick, fat thigh. Its feet are very open, and the soles of its feet are white and crystalline, like a fan made of crystal.

He glanced at me, he must have been reluctant to give up his soft-shelled turtle paws, so the more I had to eat it in front of him. At the dinner table, he and I were the only ones eating the loudest, and the cries came from our mouths with the food in our mouths, and sometimes he won't win, but usually I won't lose.

I have been competing with him throughout the meal, and the soft-shelled turtle weighing a few catties is almost all in my stomach, and he only deserves to eat dregs, and he can't digest the big meat. I didn't even let go of its shell, and when I was full of food and drink, I played with it. I looked through the hole in the turtle's shell and met the fierceness of the man's eyes. His mind is nothing more than this, and he can't fit a turtle that is timid and stealing.

I was so amused that I opened my mouth full of oil and laughed. Mother felt his anger, she was afraid of offending him, even if he was a subordinate, she didn't dare to say no to this subordinate. My mother told me to stop laughing and said that if I finished eating, I would go to the living room to play. But I can't help but leave.

I threw the shell into his bowl and the soup spilled all over his face, making a few splashes on his glasses. I was overjoyed as I waited for his reaction.

His cheeks were already bulging with clenched teeth, but he didn't have an immediate seizure. He took off his glasses, and his mother took them playfully and ran to the toilet to clean them. He didn't feel like he had done something wrong, he just pulled out a piece of paper and silently wiped his face. He crumpled the paper towel soaked in oil and water and threw it on the edge of the bowl, and then used chopsticks to clip the turtle shell, which was not clamped steadily, and it was like this several times. I wanted to help, so I took it out of the bowl and rushed it into the toilet as well, just in time to bump into my mother. She didn't know what trouble I was getting into again, and she tried her best to reassure me and let me have fun.

I carefully rubbed the shell with the fragrance several times, and I didn't turn off the water until it smelled disgustingly sweet and greasy. I didn't know that I was flooding so much that the noise was masking the quarrel outside.

"Look at the good things your son has done!" His mother put on his washed and dried glasses, and this time he was no exception, he slapped his mother's hand away and knocked over the rice bowl in front of him. The remaining soup that was just big enough to cover the bottom of the bowl was also affected, and it was scattered all over the table.

"Okay, okay, don't get along with a child, I'll boil a pot for you alone next time."

The wind outside came in through the window, and we were warmly washed and calmed a little of the heat in our bodies. But the wind rattled the glass on the window, and it almost blew over my Lego.

After being robbed of food, he was still angry, and sat on the sofa. He turned on the TV and turned on the channel. He and Annan both like to watch soap operas, but they don't watch such a wonderful drama at home. I threw the toy on the floor and ran over to snatch the remote control, but he was quick enough to hide it behind him. So I used the old trick, ran to the TV and pressed the button, and put up the hard-shell paper that was always under the table, covering the indicator light, so that he could not use the device.

I'm like a child, and in front of him, it's clear that I am. How many times my mother used this as an excuse to suppress his anger, he was convinced of this, and he understood the righteousness, and every time he spared my child.

As soon as my mother finished cleaning up, she wiped her hands on her apron, and when she saw that I was causing trouble again, she had just put down her tie and walked towards me before she had time to take off her apron.

She asked me to go upstairs for a nap and not to delay "Dad" to watch the show. He also took off my partition, "You can change the table, I'll take him to sleep." "My mother's apron was all on my face, and I was suffocated by the smell of fireworks in the world.

I pulled off my apron and said, "I'm not going to sleep!" "I haven't punished him enough, how can I give him time to recuperate.

When I was a child, my mother would pick me up and let me throw me around her, and she would never let me go until I was locked in the room. She couldn't hold me for a long time, but it didn't prevent me from being able to hold her around my waist.

The apron obscured my vision again, and my mother gently squatted down and coaxed me, telling her to go to the bedroom to play with me.

I love to play with my mother in the bedroom, she will bring the dolls back to life, she can make many vivid fairy tales, until I fall asleep, I can still smell my mother in my dreams, feel the softness of her kissing my forehead quietly.

So I decided to let him go for a while, and followed her into the bedroom, who grabbed my hand.

"Baby, you can't bully Dad like this, so Dad will feel that the house is not fun, and he won't come home to accompany us." My mother saw that I was deliberately working against him, and she used a coaxing tone to persuade me not to continue.

He's not my dad. I secretly reminded him that I didn't need to tell him anything about the father-son relationship. I'm sure he's on the same page as I am. But adults are far older than they can hide from me that they are against me, and I know my situation very well, but I have been a bad boy for more than twenty years.

"But he always bullies his mother, I hate him!"