Jiang Qiao held his notebook and read the story.
The forceful strokes and handwriting made one feel that this teacher had a rather stubborn personality.
Of course.
Judging people by their handwriting was not reliable.
Many bastards throughout history had written beautiful calligraphy.
Within the article,
one could also see compassion.
Sincere and heartfelt.
It was moving.
But in reality... heh.
His gaze moved downward.
He continued reading.
Although I had received a materialist education from a young age, I was not opposed to matters involving gods and ghosts.
Whenever I went out for a trip,
if I came across a Taoist temple or Buddhist monastery,
I would also go in to burn a stick of incense and pay my respects.
Of course.
I was not devout.
Bowing to Buddha in the morning did not change my habit of eating meat and fish at lunch. The tranquility I felt inside while chatting with a Taoist priest in the afternoon did not stop me from spending the night partying at a bar with friends.
In short,
I was not only unopposed to feudal superstition.
On the contrary,
I was actually somewhat curious about these unknown things.
So,
during breaks between classes,
I often chatted with Kid Brother.
Gradually,
our stiff exchanges of one mechanical question and answer at the beginning turned into conversations in which the child was willing to take the initiative and tell me about certain things.
Including the fact that both his parents had died.
Including the fact that he had originally had two uncles and an aunt.
But they had all died as well.
Including... the fact that his grandfather had already died before he was born.
In short,
over the course of more than a decade,
this family
had gradually,
one after another,
passed away