Today, after receiving this news, Qing Zhou didn't know what to say for a while.
He couldn't accept it, couldn't come to terms with it. He was devastated.
The news came so suddenly, catching him completely off guard.
If his wife hadn't been constantly talking him through it, he probably wouldn't have written at all during this time.
He would be taking a few days off, but updates wouldn't stop.
Today, he truly didn't have the strength for it. Or rather, it wasn't that he lacked the strength—he just wasn't in the mood to write.
Ever since he was born, before he was even a year old, his parents had sent him to be raised at his maternal grandmother's home.
Here in Northeast China, especially in the countryside, we called our maternal grandmothers "laolao."
As for him, he had practically been raised by his maternal grandmother from childhood until he entered high school, when he gradually began living with his parents.
His maternal grandmother had wanted him to return to live with his parents because she felt sorry for him. Their house in the countryside was dilapidated, and she didn't want him suffering with them.
Even though he hadn't agreed to go back home, there was nothing he could do.
The older generation couldn't bear to see their children suffer or work themselves to the bone. They could be poor, they could endure hardship, but they didn't want their children to suffer.
If he refused to go home, his maternal grandmother would get angry with him and refuse to eat.
Let him explain something here: he was very happy. Although his family came from the countryside and was somewhat poor, he was very happy.
His parents sending him to his maternal grandmother's home when he was young didn't mean they