introduction

Legend has it that when people die, a chariot will take their souls to the reincarnation gate of the underworld to enter the reincarnation of the next life.

This car is called the last train of life.

Before boarding the last train, people will have a chance to choose one of the most precious things in their life to bring with them to the next life.

This thing will be regarded as a token of inheritance in this life and the next life.

This token will be regarded as a spiritual treasure of your life and life.

What will you choose?

body

Late at night, a bus was driving on the road with no passengers on board, only a lone driver.

The driver yawned, settled, and continued to look at the road in front of him.

The long road breathed silently in the night, and the dim street lamps outlined the towering bodies of the street trees, and sighed helplessly.

Everything was so peaceful, even the stars in the sky were sleepy-eyed.

There is a stop sign under the street lamp ahead.

On a bench next to the stop sign sat an elderly woman.

The street lamp dyed the old man's gray hair the color of dusk.

"It's her again."

The driver muttered, shifted gears and slowed down the car, stopping in front of the stop sign.

The old man sat there, his thin body shivering a little in the cold wind.

The driver opened the car door, looked at the old man, and saw that the old man did not have any luggage on him.

"Still hard to choose?"

The driver shouted at the old man.

"yes." The old man said faintly, "You have to think about it." ”

"Why don't you get in the car first and think about it in the car. It's such a cold night, and your body can't stand it. ”

The old man looked at the driver, and then at the empty stop sign next to him.

After a long time, the old man stood up and staggered into the car.

She subconsciously dug into her pocket, and as if she remembered something, she smiled helplessly.

"You don't have to buy a ticket." The driver yawned, stepped on the accelerator, and the bus drove slowly.

The trees and street lamps outside the car receded in sight, and the old man looked at the car window in a daze.

"It's ridiculous for people to live in this life, and after being busy all their lives, they don't even understand what they are living for." The driver said lightly, "Think about it, what is it that has witnessed your life?" ”

The old man cast his gaze to his hands.

It was a pair of ravine-strewd, withered, crumpled hands.

The old man was silent for a long time and then muttered:

"Actually, I should know very well. These hands are my life. ”

"When I was a child, I grabbed the corner of my mother's clothes and picked up the lost ears of rice in the harvested rice field, which were all conjured from the green seedlings I held in the spring. At that time, its color was white and red, and its feeling was young and immature. That year, there was a boy who liked to hold my hand the most, sitting on a straw pile and looking at the stars that were exactly the same as today. ”

"Later, these hands held the boy's ashes and mixed with my tears."

"During the years of famine, I never took the plump grains in my hands again, but replaced them with grass roots and tree bark."

"They taste like the earth, it's bitter and it's sweet."

"My hands have worked all my life."

"It has stripped the bark of trees, dug up grass roots, held my mother's dying hand, and closed my father's eyes that were dead after being persecuted."

"It has also touched the spring breeze of reform and held the face of my son's new life."

"But it's coming, it's used to holding a Tai Chi sword and a kung fu fan, and it's used to using a smart phone, it should have no strength, but how dare it, and snatch back the wallet containing thirty-two yuan and six cents from the bandit with the knife?"

The driver listened quietly.

"There's the only photo of your late wife in that purse, right?" The driver applied the brakes, and the bus slowed down and stopped.

"Seems to be." The old man smiled at the corners of his mouth, but tears involuntarily flowed down, across the old face, and dripped into the pious palm.

"They have been working hard and fighting bravely for your life." The driver turned around and smiled, "It's time to stop." ”

"Thank you." The old man bowed deeply to the driver, "I have figured out what to take away, these hands are the testimony of my life, and they are also the wealth of my life." ”

"Have a safe journey."

The driver looked at the old man's staggering back and sighed.

On the old man's back, a fruit knife was stuck deep in it.

The driver restarted the bus and was about to move on, when he saw a person running towards him from a distance.

"Hello, please wait a minute, thank you." The man shouted.

The driver slammed on the brakes.

"Thanks, thanks, I almost didn't catch up." A young boy jumped into the car and said breathlessly.

"No thanks."

The driver glanced at the boy's backpack and said, "I'm sorry, it stipulates that you can only bring one piece of luggage, you are ......"

"Oh, I'm sorry." The boy hurriedly took off his backpack and took out the contents of it, "I brought one with me, but it was too inconvenient to hold in my hand, so I carried it on my back." ”

It was a long wooden box.

The boy opened the wooden box, and there was a painting lying inside.

The driver started the car and said, "Can you tell me the story of this painting?" ”

The boy was silent for a long time, and slowly spoke:

"I'm a good boy. From childhood to adulthood, the most listened to the words of my parents. ”

"I don't snacking, I don't drink, I don't play on the computer, I don't sleep in. What is called weekend, it is probably those various cram schools and interest classes. ”

"My boards, paper, brushes and paints were given to me by my uncle, who is an art teacher, and he said that painting makes me feel a little happy."

"Probably only he saw the confusion in my eyes."

"My first painting was the sea of stars. Without any tricks, bad color schemes, chaotic layouts, incomprehensible drawings, it should be a joke for everyone. ”

"I looked at the painting and felt my soul swim in it, and my breathing became easier and smoother than ever."

Then, I woke up, and my mother's scolding pulled me out of the painting and was pulled back into reality. The painting was thrown into the trash by my mother as garbage, and I saw the questions on the test paper and the workbook in black and white on the desk not far away, laughing wildly. ”

"I want to dream forever and enjoy freedom."

"In the final exam, I failed the exam. That's a full ...... point lower than the first place."

"I begged and pleaded, but I could only watch as my angry father broke my brushes, tore my paper, smashed my boards, squeezed my paint dry, and mixed it into disgusting colors."

"My dear parents forced me to kneel on the ground and made me slap myself hard with my paintbrush-holding hand. With my creative power, I maintain the destructive power to destroy dreams. ”

"That's what they say: If you don't do your job all day, you know how to paint, and can you eat when you paint? You're just being led astray by drawing. What are we raising you for, so that you can get ahead, have the ability, have achievements, make a lot of money, and support us in the future! ”

The boy yelled hysterically.

The driver looked at him silently.

After a while, the boy wiped tears from the corners of his eyes with his hand, and slowly opened the painting.

"This is my last painting."

It's a dark red painting.

In this painting, all the lines are bloody.

It depicts a boy standing on the edge of a rooftop and reaching out to the sky, as if to touch the stars. He had a regretful expression on his face, as if he understood that the distance between the two was hundreds of millions of light years. The boy looked at the sky, not paying attention to his feet, as his forward body seemed to fall off the edge of the roof at any moment. At the bottom of the picture, the city's high-rise buildings are lit up with dark red lights in a dark red night scene.

The boy looked at the painting, and tears fell again. His right hand ran over his left and rested on the deep wound in his wrist.

The driver said lightly: "You lied to me." ”

The boy looked at the driver and saw that the driver was staring straight at him.

"There's one more thing in your backpack."

"Huh." The boy chuckled, "I still can't hide it from you." ”

The boy took out a photo from his backpack.

A family photo.

"The reason why you have a hard choice is because the starlight you yearn for is actually the warm light that reflects the happiness of the family."

The driver took a cigarette out of his pocket, lit it, took a deep breath, glanced at the no-smoking sign on the car, pouted, and spat at it.

"What do you mean?" The boy asked.

"Your dream is to paint, not to draw the stars and the sea, but to draw a happy home, but you paint it again and again, and your parents tear it off again and again."

"You fill in the gaps with perfect marks, and they are still ignorant and greedy. You are desperately trying to live for your parents, just wanting to have a normal and ordinary home of your dreams. ”

The boy's eyes sparkled with a sparkle of light.

"But ask yourself, do you really want to take your paintings, or your home? They have never belonged to you, so what right do you have to possess them? ”

"You should go back and find the lost heart. It's not hard to find, just eighteen years ago, when you were born, he was accidentally lost by your parents. ”

"You've never lived the way your parents wanted you to be, and it's time to find yourself again."