Host, You're Targeted

"One, two, three..."

Xiaochi nianxun was walking home with a small schoolbag on his back. He looked down at the bricks with blue-green patterns on the ground.

He is one year younger than all the students in the class, and he has never played any games mentioned by others, so everyone is not willing to play with him.

When others join hands in a race after school, he will count the blue-green bricks with different patterns carved on the gray ground with his head down, and count them from the gate of primary school to the entrance of the alley in his home.

"Three hundred twenty-one, three hundred twenty-two."

The low count came to an abrupt end. Chi nianxun pulled a big schoolbag that was higher than others and went to the alley without paving bricks.

Through an alley covered with moss on its walls, Koichi came to the corner of the city, a small row of small buildings blocked by high-rise buildings.

Every time he came home from class, he was very tired, so he needed to hold on to the wall.

His family lives on the first floor. Every time he goes home at noon, he is fumigated by the cooking people in this alley.

On that day, as usual, he clenched his schoolbag, lowered his head and went home. In the corridor at the door of the house, there were some big, fat and big women in flower.

He knew the men who had come to help when his father died.

Chi nianxun's little one was not noticed when he approached the wall. As soon as he went to say "Hello, aunt," he heard those people laughing.

Their long and thin laughter, like innumerable acerbic needles, suddenly hit people, all of which were stuck on people, making people unable to move or cry out pain.

"Oh, the little girl is still in the mood to cook here at noon? Don't your kids pick it up? "

"You don't understand, cooking for her love - people eat it!"

"Today's little girl, her husband just died, and other men fell in love."

After a while, Xiaochi nianxun suddenly felt dizzy when listening to their laughter. He was shocked by the laughter that hit his eardrum, and he couldn't breathe at all.

He couldn't understand what they were saying.

But why do mothers roar out in the same voice as they do?

He doesn't understand.

Why?

Later, Xiaochi understood.

The books in his schoolbag are always filled with red and black lines and graffiti, and the eraser and pencil in the pencil box are always broken into several pieces. There were people tearing his books out in front of him and folding them into paper, airplanes flying around the class, pointing at his nose at the child of a shameless woman, and pushing him against the wall.

The back of his head hit the edge of the blackboard and he felt a good pain.

But why are people laughing at him?

He doesn't understand.

Why?

He ran home after class, trying to find the answer from his mother. His mother is the softest person in the world and will tell him the answer.

But he ran too fast.

The blue-green pattern brick at the door of the shop was trampled on unevenly, and he fell when he stepped on it.

He stood up and tried to rub himself like his parents did after other children wrestled. But he had back pain, knee pain, stomach pain, but he had only two hands and one mouth.

He thought that he would never count the bricks any more, and he wanted to go home quickly and let his mother knead and blow for himself.

Mother's hand is long and delicate, and it will not hurt if you rub it for him.

My mother's breath must be fragrant and warm, because mom is not a shameless and shameless woman.

Xiaochi nianxun thinks that his mother is the most gentle person in the world.

However, when he finally ran home, he saw several aunts and their mothers who had helped at his father's funeral standing on the narrow road.

His mother's hair looked like he had never seen before. He was a little afraid, but his body hurt.

He went over and called out softly, "Mom, I'm in pain."

But his mother, with a pair of big red eyes similar to him, held up the wine bottle to the aunts.

He remembered what the teacher said, you can't fight, but why does mom do it?

"Mom, don't fight."

He walked over with a big schoolbag on his back and tried to pull his mother's clothes. But he had just come to say a word. Before he could even see her face clearly, the beer bottle she waved fell off her hand and hit him in the face.

"Bang."