Afraid of being weak

  Passersby couldn't help but cast a curious glance at them, guessing that the couple was reluctant to part ways. Airports are often places of sorrowful goodbyes.

  He gently patted her shoulder, his chin resting on her soft hair, in silence.

  Her tears slowly flowed into his shirt, soon wetting a large area. Those scorching, salty tears seemed to flow into his heart as well, aching with a sour pain.

  She already knew it.

  She had known it all along, but he thought she didn't know, so in order not to worry herself, she pretended not to know.

  But that phone call just now made it impossible for her to pretend anymore.

  In Nīe Zhīyán's life, there were five elders who carried the most weight: her father, her younger aunt, his parents, and their high school class teacher.

  Her father died in a car accident seven years ago, and just an hour ago...

  Today's weather is exceptionally cold, and the entire city of A is shrouded in a gloomy sky.

  In the solemn and majestic mourning hall, two rows of women in black stood quietly, Nie Zhiyan knelt upright in the center, a pair of crimson eyes gazing at the portrait hanging on the wall in front.

  He was an old man with a very kind smile, and the years had etched deep lines on his face.

  He was her teacher from junior high school to senior high school, a total of six years, affecting half of Nie Zhiyan's life, and can be said to be her half father.

  Nie Zhen lowered her head and bowed to the portrait, then stood up, joined the ranks, and lowered her head. From start to finish, she didn't say a word.

  Just a small face, pale with no blood color.

  An old woman tottered up in front of her, slowly raised her head, and for a moment her heart was cut like a knife. She moved her lips and only said two words.

  "Master's Wife"

  The old woman stretched out her hands and hugged her, her hoarse voice weathered from the wind and frost.

  "Don't be sad, your teacher passed away peacefully."

  Nie Zhiyan bit his lip, forcing back the tears that were about to spill out of his eyes, and nodded vigorously. Master's wife, master's wife, you're so strong, how can I be weak?

  Their teacher's wife walked to the center of the mourning hall, opened a wooden box that had been quietly lying on the ground, and said: "Your teacher dedicated more than half his life to education. His hard work has brought forth talents all over the world. Seeing each and every one of you grow up successfully, he was very comforted."

  "Before you all graduated from high school, he asked each of you to write a letter to your future selves. These letters have remained untouched, and before your teacher left, she entrusted me with returning them to you in their original state."

  "Chen Xiu..."

  "Du Hang..."

  Duan Jiayan...

  When it was Nie Zhiyan's turn, she took over the yellow envelope, her fingers trembling slightly.

  A warm hand grasped hers, Lu Yiheng took his envelope and pulled Nie Zhiyan back to stand quietly.

  Someone in the mourning hall began to sob quietly, like a wounded animal whimpering softly.

  The old man's voice continued, familiar and unfamiliar classmates came one by one, silently retreating, each young face filled with sorrowful regret.

  For his former mentor and for himself as he had fantasized about in high school.

  Nie Zhiyan's gaze fell on the teacher's kind face, and she thought back to seven years ago when she was 18 years old, sitting in a sweltering high school classroom, writing this letter stroke by stroke.

  (Regarding the establishment of a QQ group, if everyone thinks it's necessary, please reply to the first comment below. Thank you! You can ask anything in the QQ group, such as spoilers or questions, I'll be there, you know what I mean!)