I went back to my freshman year in high school, surrounded by people and cut off from people.

If you ask yourself, I'm enjoying it, it's simple and relaxed.

Except that sometimes I want to talk to someone, but there is no one to talk to, which is a bit frustrating.

Everyone should have had this experience - not the loneliness of no one around, but the hesitation of being in a crowd and not having the only person around to talk to.

I went home this weekend. There were still some signs of trauma on my mother's face, but she was much better.

Before I went back to school on Sunday, she even said a couple of words to me.

She asked me, "Kangkang, if you met a girl who was the same age as you, but had the same personality as her mother, would you like it?" ”

It's a strange question, as if it's asking me if I have a mother-love complex.

I certainly don't have this weird complex.

But if there is a girl who is as beautiful as her mother, has the stubborn and sad temperament of her mother, and is as incomprehensible as her...... I'm definitely going to be intrigued.

I stood in the doorway with my bag on my back, not knowing how to answer.

The mother said, "Kangkang, you must not like such a girl, you know? ”

In my mind, this seems to be the only piece of advice my mother has ever given me.

I went back to school, still thinking about my mother's words. I don't understand why my mother said that.

The round table was already sitting in Angel's place; The spot next to me was still empty. Now I can face this empty position calmly.

When Angel left, he didn't even tell me what he was going to do or how long he was gone, and he really didn't think of me as a friend anymore - and I couldn't be guilty of continuing to be him.

During the evening self-study, the classmate at the door suddenly whispered to me: "Kang Rong, someone is looking for me." ”

I put down the teaching materials and walked out of the classroom. I'm wondering, what will be looking for me?

There was no one in the corridor outside the classroom.

I looked around and saw a figure around the corner that made me sick to my stomach. Ping Pong teacher.

I wanted to pretend I didn't see it and returned to the classroom, but he called out to me, "Kang Rong, come here." ”

"Don't stand there, come here." He smiled hypocritically, pretending to be affectionate.

I don't want to be near him anymore. I didn't want my classmates to see through the window what I had to do with him. I turned and walked in the opposite direction.

I ran all the way down the stairs to the ground floor.

But as if he had already guessed, he waited for me at the top of the stairs.

"Xiao Rong, what are you hiding from me? I'm just here to say a few words to you. ”

The title "Little Banyan" makes me sick. Every word he said made me sick.

His simple presence makes me sick.

We confronted each other at the top of the staircase.

He looked at me: "Xiao Rong, why don't you speak?" ”

He added, "I love your non-verbal personality so much. I like to talk, you're a good listener, and we're a good fit, aren't we? ”

And when he had said that, he took my hand and wanted to take me wherever he wanted. I struggled with my other hand on the handrail of the stairs to break free of him.

He smiled: "Don't be tough, do you want everyone to see us?" ”

These words defeated all my psychological achievements at once. I let go of the escalator and followed.

"Do you want to listen to the piano?" He asked, "Why don't we go to the studio today?" ”

Without waiting for me to answer, he concluded, "Let's go to the piano class." I'm more nostalgic. ”

I'm even a little grateful for his decision.

After that day, I would feel bad when I heard the piano music, but I didn't want to see the painting like that in the future.

The scene I tried so hard to forget was repeated.

Only this time he was more direct. He didn't even play the piano, so he put the lid on and sat down.

The table tennis teacher took off his clothes and talked about his past, babbling like an old witch's spell.

He reached into my clothes with one hand and grabbed my hand with the other and groped it over him. He took me in circles around his ugly and disgusting dick.

He kept talking about an old teammate of the provincial team. When it was almost there, his hand rubbed my hips, and his breath with the smell of bad smoke sprayed on my face, and he gasped and shouted, "Little Rong...... Oh...... Banyan ......"

I've never hated my name so much.