Dad, if I accidentally do something wrong, can you not hit me, please communicate with me patiently, let me realize my mistake and correct it seriously. Dad, I hope to be like a little sapling, and you are like the warm sunshine, fresh soil, accompany me to grow up healthy and happy, I don't want you to be just a cold pair of scissors, just care about pruning my crooked twigs, every time the scissors fall, it is a pain and a wound that may not heal in a lifetime. Daddy, may you give a loving and caring touch when your palm is facing me, a warmth, not a violence that terrifies me. Dad, can you also tell me that I, born too, deserve to be loved and treated gently. ——Zhang Zihao (monologue of the previous life)

Zhang Zihao dreamed, and there was lightning and thunder in his dream......

In summer, the weather in Shimizu Village, which is located close to the mountains and is located in a remote area, is always repeated.

It was only five o'clock in the afternoon, and in the last second, the sky was still clear, and the next second, the sky suddenly became gloomy, and the dark clouds were pressed down one by one, layer upon layer, as if something was brewing, and it was frightening to look at.

Zhang Zihao, who is more than eight years old, was originally in front of the small table, holding a pencil in his little short hand, writing homework, the little guy is very focused, his little hand is stroke by stroke, writing extremely seriously, wearing a short-sleeved little back sitting straight, his fair little face is tense, and his red little lips occasionally move, as if he is silently reciting something.

Probably wrote attentively, although Zhang Zihao didn't notice that the sky was dark, but in order to see clearly, his eyes still didn't feel slightly narrowed.

Suddenly, a gust of wind hit outside, and a roll that Zhang Zihao put on the table was rolled up at once, and then fell to the ground.

Zhang Zihao came back to his senses from his homework, hurriedly picked up the roll, and then raised his head, looking out with a blank look.

Zhang's house, is made of bricks, not painted with white paint or tiles, looks extremely simple, left and right sides are a room, the middle is the living room, the stove is built outside, it is also a small room, at this time Zhang Zihao is in the living room to write homework, the living room is not big, the outside is an open space, from the living room can see the outside of the open space and the sky.

Dark clouds overhead, gloomy.

"Is it going to rain?" Zhang Zihao muttered, suddenly remembering the clothes that were still hanging outside, he put down the pencil and roll, pressed it with the pencil case, picked up the small stool he was sitting on with both hands, and ran outside.

In Qingshui Village, the houses are scattered, and there is a small open space in front of every house, and there are bamboo poles on the open space, which are full of clothes, quilts, etc.

When Zhang Zihao trotted out with a stool, what he saw was that his and his father's clothes were fluttering with the wind.

Put the stool under the bamboo pole, and Zhang Zihao will step on the stool to collect the clothes.

Suddenly, a bright light crossed the sky, accompanied by a click, illuminating most of the originally dim half of the sky, Zhang Zihao subconsciously looked up, and the lightning broke through the clouds, bringing thrilling strength.

Lightning is only two or three seconds long.

As soon as the lightning fell, something seemed to rumble, Zhang Zihao was startled, and for a moment, he thought that the mountain had collapsed.

"Boom", the thunder came with thousands of momentum.

"Oops, it's thunder and lightning, it's going to rain heavily."

"The rain must be coming, hurry up, put away the clothes and quilts, otherwise it will be too late."

"Hurry, hurry, hurry."