C205 lacrimal hemorrhage

Life in a single parent's home was usually tough. Zhang Youcai's mother was an uneducated country woman, so the days of orphans and widows in the fields were even more difficult.

In those years, Zhang's talented mother had tilled land during the day to take care of the farming, and at night to do manual labor like assembling lighters.

He could earn a dime each and still save up like this, piece by piece. Who knew how many pieces he had to make in order to gather all of Zhang Sheng's tuition fees.

He only knew that when he slept, his mother's bean-bright bedside lamp was lit. When he woke up, the lamp was still lit. His mother was just waiting in the brick bed with her head half closed.

Just like that, he used his own life, his own blood, and forcefully ended Zhang Genius's junior high school. He even became the only university student in the entire village.

Zhang Qinghong remembered very clearly that the day he was going to register for university, his mother had followed behind the bus for a very, very long time.

He looked through the window at the dusty road, his mother's body hunched over, her face aged and aged by the sun and the dusty yellow earth, her face etched with ditches like a knife's.

In his heart, Zhang Qinghong secretly made up his mind to work hard and desperately to bring his mother out of that small mountain village and into the city to be a city citizen who would raise his head and have electricity the moment he pressed a button, and have running water the moment he opened the water gate.

His efforts were not in vain. In university, he became the president of the student union, and after graduating, he went to work at the best Internet company in the city.

He only slept for six hours a day, and spent the rest of his time working overtime.

He set a goal in his mind: to work hard, to make money, to give his mother the best life.

This situation lasted for two to three years. Talent Zhang became the head of the department, and at this time, Talent Zhang rented the best place in the city to stay. He was prepared to bring his mother to live in the city.

That night, just as Zhang Qinghong finished calling her mother and was about to enter the elevator, a mail came from the company. While he was stunned, the elevator started to move automatically, and what happened next happened afterwards.

After hearing Zhang Huai's words, Zhang Tiangang and I became silent. Cheng Jia's eyes reddened.

"Unfortunately, I still can't bring my mother into the city." His eyes were red, and he wanted to cry, but couldn't because ghosts didn't shed tears.

This was also known as the Qi of the Windy Meat Mud.

"Don't worry, we will tell your mother that you did well and didn't disappoint her."

I was silent for a long time.

"Please tell her that in my next life, I still want to be his son." Zhang Tianyi made me write down the address of his house. I wrote it down on a slip of paper and stuck it in my chest. Looking at the statue of the messenger in my hand, I cautiously asked:

"Life and death are decided by fate, wealth lies in the heavens, dust returns to dust, dust returns to dust, and humans and ghosts tread different paths. Since the soul is born, it returns to the Western Sky. Zhang Sheng, have you prepared for this yet?"

"I am ready, thank you disciple of the supernatural sculpture."

Zhang shi clasped his hands.

Zhang Tiangang and I nodded, and opened the door, revealing the red cloth on top of the Emissary statue.

In an instant, we all heard a burst of Brahma.

The golden lacquer on the statue of the Emissary shone with a faint light, and the solemn look on its face was instantly replaced by a gentle heart as it stared at Zhang Sheng.

"The soul of rebirth is like a bubble in a dream. Life and death will go on for hundreds of thousands of years, and life and death will be the same as ever. The great Dao will never be destroyed. Amitabha, come with me."

That sound was like a lion's roar and our eardrums trembled slightly. The lower half of Zhang Qinghong's body, which was originally split in two, actually started to recover bit by bit.

Not a moment later, Zhang Ming stood up, his body emitting a faint light. As the light flashed, the silhouette of Zhang Sheng's silhouette gradually dissipated.

We know that this is an emissary who is trying to convert him.

"Amitabha!"

We faintly chanted a Buddhist prayer. Suddenly, just as Zhang's talent was gradually disappearing, a drop of tear actually floated out from his eyes.

Those tears fell from my hand and congealed into a crystal teardrop after a short while. They were indestructible and had a hint of pink in them. It was very beautiful.

When he looked up, Zhang Sheng's shadow had already disappeared.

Just then, I heard a voice in my ear:

"I'll have to trouble you to pass this tear to my mother, descendant of the supernatural sculpture. Tell her, to see this is equivalent to seeing his son."

I nodded and placed the teardrop tightly in my pocket.

The moment Zhang Youcai left, the ghastly aura in the room also gradually disappeared.

Cheng Jia suddenly cried out. She sniffed her own body and said:

"I drank a lot last night. I smell like alcohol. I'm going to take a bath."

Girls love to be clean. Zhang Tiangang and I had no choice but to wait outside.

Waiting for Cheng Jia, Guan Ju suddenly called me, asking me how things were going over there, if I had time, could I come back as soon as possible, there was someone waiting for us inside the shop.

Hearing that, I laughed, it seems that Guan Ju is really my God of Fortune, the moment she stays in the shop, business is coming in endlessly.

I let Cheng Jia come to the shop by herself after she finished bathing. Zhang Tiangang and I will go back first, we can't make the customers wait.

However, when we returned to the inside of the store, the person we saw made Zhang Tiangang and I stunned for a moment.

How should he put it? This guy's figure was way too exaggerated.

He was wearing a piece of black blood that almost covered his butt. On it was a Chegwala Photos, with two earlobes that could be used as bracelets hanging from his left and right ears. Even the Nose had spikes on them.

The hair was a small tuft of Africa's dirty braids, and it looked a little unkempt.

If it's a girl like that, I can barely accept it.

But the point is, this guy is a guy.

When I entered the shop, this guy was sitting on the sofa chair with a cigarette in his hand, smoking while laughing.

The Eight Immortals Table was opened, a copper pot was placed, and three rivers were boiled. Logically speaking, if a shop opened, there should be people coming all the way here, so it wasn't strange at all.

But this guy's style is so unique that for a moment I don't know how to talk to him.

This person was also curious. He lowered his head and started smoking the hand-made cigarette. When the cigarette was almost burning to his fingers, he still hadn't put it down yet.