As long as I can remember, I know that my own home is different from someone else's. I don't have an impression of my mother, white and indifferent, I have accepted that I am different since I was a child, and I wouldn't think about what my home should be like if I didn't have Jing Jing.

One day ago, he stood at the gate of my school and told me with a sad face that he was sick, and I tricked him into blooming into a man in my arms. I imagined that he would accept me in the future, that he would go to school, that I would be discharged from the army to sell and sell, and that we would settle down in a corner of Beijing. The first pot of money to open a bar was a down payment for a house in this downtown area.

I leaned back on the sofa, looking at the neat lines of Jing Jing's back to the window, and slowly, I told him how many years I had been thinking in my heart: "Before, my thoughts were very simple, I always felt that your temper couldn't enter the army, and you couldn't stay at home, one day."

"Ex-husband, it's hard to love again" The old fox and the little tiger 21 are in the middle of the hand, please wait a moment,

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