"So what do you think we should do?" Qinghua saw that Morihei had been holding a cold face and not speaking, so she spoke.

"What do you think you can do?" Dr. Hu asked rhetorically. He saw that Morihei and Qinghua's faces changed, and he sighed heavily in his heart: "I don't know what kind of family environment Sanping grew up in, but a person's personality state will not be formed in an instant, this is impossible. The formation of personality is a long process, and how she is treated as a child is actually her initial relationship with the outside world, which has a huge impact on her future personality development. If she is selflessly loved, truly blessed, and encouraged to develop her talents as a child, she will have a high probability of growing into a physically and mentally healthy person. But, on the other hand, if she had been repressed in childhood, treated indifferently in all sorts of ways, and constantly receiving messages like 'if you don't do this, you don't deserve to be loved,' she wouldn't be a healthy person. ”

"Family education is important, very important, and no parent can walk through their child's upbringing." Dr. Hu concluded.

After Sen Ping got home, he went straight into the study, and then locked the door, and Ren Qinghua didn't respond to how he patted the door and called him outside the door. Qinghua waited outside the door for a while, then turned and walked into her room.

More than ten years ago, when Senpei proposed to sleep in a separate room, she was not embarrassed and unwilling to be asked by her husband to sleep in a separate room, she was so calm that she was watching a person who had nothing to do with her, slowly fading out of her life.

And this person she now thinks of as "irrelevant" is precisely the person she tried to get close to a few years ago.

Qinghua looked at the wedding photo hanging on the wall of the room, and Morihei in the photo looked at the camera seriously, standing upright, with his arms hanging at his sides; Her own expression was not good-looking, although she was smiling, but she smiled reluctantly. At the photographer's motion, she gently grabbed her husband's arm next to her - Moritaira's body stiffened. After taking this photo, Morihei quickly walked away, and Kiyoka stood in place, looking at the busy photographer and makeup artist in front of her, feeling that her life could finally be settled.

At that time, she was already pregnant with Sanping. Six months later, Sanpei was born, and Qinghua didn't look at Sanpei and instead went to observe Moripei's reaction. At that time, Moritaira's violin playing career had already been forced to stop. Morihei looked at the little baby in front of him who could only cry and smiled.

Qinghua was finally relieved, and it was only at this time that she felt a huge pain from her lower body—and then, she fainted.

When Dr. Hu came to Sanping's ward, Sanping was lying on the bed, staring at the whitish ceiling, motionless. He looked up along Sanping's line of sight, and at first glance he thought it was just a wall that was a little too white, but when he looked closely, he found that there was a small spider diligently weaving a web in the corner. The web is halfway woven, and the little spider is still working on it.

Dr. Hu moved a chair and sat on the edge of the three-flat bed: "Look at the spiders? ”

Sanpei didn't respond, but his eyes blinked slightly.

Dr. Hu stopped talking. He sat quietly beside Sanping.

After about an hour, the spider's web weaving project was almost completed. Sanping raised her arm, tilted her head, and found that Dr. Hu was staring at the little spider intently, she was a little surprised: "Dr. Hu, are you still there?" ”

Dr. Hu turned his head and said happily, "Yes, I'm still here." ”

Sanping propped himself up embarrassedly, and then leaned against the head of the bed: "I'm sorry, I watched the spider weaving a web and fell into the gods." I thought you just said hello to me and left. ”

"I want to see spiders too." Dr. Hu said with a smile.

Sanping looked at the corner of the wall and found that the little spider was gone. She lowered her head, as if thinking about something. Then, she looked at Dr. Hu, "Did my parents come here in the morning?" ”

Without waiting for Dr. Hu to answer, she blushed, "Don't say it, I'm not interested." ”

Dr. Hu looked at her.

After a while, Sanping raised his head again, his eyes red, "Are they really here?" Yu Yun said that they also went to find them before, is it because of me? But why don't you come and see me? ”

"Is it because I have this disease that my parents don't come to see me?" The more Sanping said, the more panicked he became.

Dr. Hu shook his head and patted Sanping's shoulder distressedly, "It's not your problem that your parents don't come to see you." You haven't done anything wrong, your character isn't a problem, and you're not something to blame. They don't come to see you, it's their own problem. Dr. Hu continued to gently pat Sanping's back in a soft tone, "They have a little doubt about their own lives, about themselves, and about you. You give them a little time, let them sort out their own life first, and so do you, you also give yourself a little time, sort out yourself. ”

"Tidying up? Do I tidy myself up? How to organize? Sanping's voice was nasal.

"After putting down the violin, you became a writer, didn't you?" Dr. Hu asked.

Sanping nodded.

"What exactly did you write? Can you tell me about it? ”

Sanping recalled: "Write the story of a hermit living in seclusion in the mountains, and live alone by himself...... He lived on his own, spending an afternoon preparing dinner for himself, and when he had made it, he threw it away. ”

"You've been writing other people's stories." Dr. Hu listened and summed it up.

"So to speak."

"Would you like to try something new?"

"Try what?"

"Try to write an autobiography. What do you think? Write a book about yourself. ”

"I can't." Sanpei immediately shook his head. After three seconds, she shook her head again, "I can't, I really can't, no, no, no." ”

"Why not?" Dr. Hu asked curiously.

"Where do I start? I've been playing the violin since I was born, and I didn't dare to put it down until recently. I'm still a writer, but I don't even know if I really like to write. How can I write an autobiography without knowing anything? ”

"Start writing from the first thing you remember." Dr. Hu looked at Sanping and said word by word, "Honestly record every thing you remember, how you feel in every event — remember, it's the real feeling, that is, when this thing happens, your first feeling." Whatever the idea. ”

Sanping's eyes widened and he stared blankly at Dr. Hu, as if digesting what Dr. Hu had just said.

"For example, if you remember how you feel right now and are confused, you write it down; You remember that you just knew that your parents were not coming to see you, and they were disappointed and desperate, and you also made a note of it. Can't find the right words to sum it up – try to describe it in other ways. You can write whatever you want, you don't have to think about readers, you don't have to think about the market, this autobiography of yours only belongs to you, and you are the only reader. ”

"Don't I have to show you?"

"This is your autobiography and your life, and no one has the right or right to peek into your own world without permission."

"But," Sanping became interested when she heard that she didn't need to show it to Dr. Hu, but there was another question, and she wanted to understand, "Why did I write this autobiography?" ”

Dr. Hu looked into the corner and saw that the spider had come out again. This time, the little spider was lying on her freshly woven web. Dr. Hu smiled, and he said to Sanping, "You see, the little spider also has its own web to weave, and after weaving the web, it can lie down on its masterpiece with peace of mind." Do you want to try it too, learn from the little spider, weave a web of your own, slowly find out how each thread is connected to the other thread, and after weaving your own web, feel it and see if there is a sense of accomplishment? ”