Poor Lady

The sky was overcast and the rain poured. She fell into the mud, her hands dripping with blood, and under the rain, she felt no pain at all. There is indifference in his eyes, as if he has no attachment to this world at all.

Just like this, just die like this...

At this moment, in the gradually blurred vision, a figure appeared faintly. The man held a large aqua blue umbrella to shield her from the rain that was beating on her body.

"Why should I lie down in the rain to sleep? I have a more comfortable place, old man. Would you like to take a look?"

These words came to her ears along with the sound of rain, and then she fell into darkness completely.

When she woke up again, she found herself lying in a log cabin, the bed under her was not even a mattress.

Is this what the old man called "a more comfortable place"?

She looked at her hands, the wounds had been treated, but the fingers were broken, what's the use of keeping them?

The heavy rain outside has not stopped, the sound of the rain is pouring into the house, and the humid air gives a gloomy feeling.

She stared up blankly, as still as a puppet.

"Hey, are you awake?" The wooden door was opened, and an old man walked in. His hair and beard were messed up, as if he hadn't taken care of it for a long time, and looked like a beggar.

"The old man brought you hot porridge. The girl from the neighboring village made it. It tastes good. Get up and eat it?"

She didn't respond, her whole body was dead.

The old man put down the food box, took off his sackcloth, and said to himself, "Don't lie down, you will also hurt your fingers a little bit. If you can run and jump, get up and eat by yourself."

Did your finger hurt a little? She closed her eyes in pain.

Having lost her family, her husband, her children, her dignity, her identity, and now she has lost her hands to survive, what is left of her?

She has... nothing.

"You really don't eat it?" The old man said casually while chewing something, "The fragrant hot porridge and the roast chicken that is tender on the outside and tender on the inside are very delicious."

very noisy! Can't she just die quietly?

The aroma lingers in the nose, making people feel impetuous.

The old man ate happily, and from time to time he would like to say a few words.

She was unmoved and didn't even look at him in the end, but her stomach honestly reflected her hunger.

The old man made a few noises, packed up the dishes, turned around and walked out of the room, and the surroundings returned to dead silence again.

The next day, the old man showed up in the house with the food again, and he ate it happily without forcing her, but just said some incongruous words.

On the third day, he came again.

At this time, she was so hungry that her eyes were blurry and her limbs were weak, but she still held a breath.

The fourth day...the fifth day...it's very strange, she is obviously weak to the extreme, but she is not dead.

It wasn't until the seventh day that she couldn't bear it anymore, and shouted in a hoarse voice, "Why save me? Why don't you let me die?"

The old man smiled and said: "Even if you look at it one more time, it's fine, these green mountains and green waters, all kinds of grass and red leaves."

After saying this, the old man left with his hands behind his back, and did not appear again the next day.

She curled up on the bedboard, feeling the life force slipping away.

Just like that, let her die in peace, let her die in peace.

She has been living alone until now, it's enough, it's enough...

What's the point of continuing to live?

"Even if you look at it one more time, it's fine, these green mountains and green waters, all kinds of grass and red leaves." The old man's words suddenly surfaced in his mind.

She opened her eyes, looked at a dim room, and suddenly felt so cold.

One more look, one more look, okay?

She propped her body up with difficulty and moved towards the wooden door step by step.

Raising his bandaged hand, he pushed open the somewhat old wooden door.

The sunlight outside the house shone on her instantly.

She covered her eyes with her hands, and slowly adjusted to the outside light through the gaps between her fingers.

Putting down her hand, she slowly opened her eyes. Beneath the boundless sky, the peaks and peaks rose and fell, and the mist was shrouded in the distance, like a sea of ​​clouds waving tides. The trees are lush, swaying in the wind, and reflecting a little starlight in the sun. Birds chirping in the empty valley, spring water gurgling, fences, stone mills, and jasmine bamboos are like picture scrolls.

The floral fragrance is pleasant, and the warm air is intoxicating.

Walking out of the dark wooden house, under the sun, looking up at the sky, I felt sad for no reason, and tears welled up in my eyes.

"The scenery here is unique, isn't it?" The old man's voice came from behind.

She turned around and saw that he was sitting on the steps at will, with a bamboo basket woven in his hands. Although he was dressed in sackcloth and sackcloth, he was in high spirits, his eyes were stern, and there was a kind of transcendent wisdom.

"Since you're out, come and sit with the old man." The old man patted the empty space beside him and pointed to the refreshment on the stone table, "There is tea on the table, drink it if you are thirsty."

She walked slowly to the stone table, hooked the teapot with her thumb, and poured a cup of tea tremblingly. Then he held the teacup with both hands and took a light sip.

The sweetness on the tip of her tongue made her slightly stunned.

What kind of tea is this? So fragrant?

"How does it taste?" The old man smiled. "This is the tea that the old man made with his own hands. You can't drink it if you don't drink it."

She put down the teacup, walked silently to the old man's side, sat down, and stared into the distance in a trance.

The old man pointed at her and smiled: "You should look in the mirror, you look like a beggar with a sloppy appearance."

You don't seem to care much.

She glanced at the old man first, and then lowered her head to look at herself. It was indeed a mess, and she could even smell her body. However, the bandages on her hands were clean, apparently the old man had changed her several times while she was asleep. The fingers are not as painful as before, just a little itchy.

"Your hands," the old man said when she saw her staring at his hands, "it's actually fine."

"Is it okay?" She smiled bitterly. "The old man doesn't need to comfort me. I know how badly I am injured. Even if my bones heal, I will not be able to be as flexible as before. I rely on embroidery for a living, without these hands, I'm a jerk."

"The old man never comforts people." The old man waved his hand and said, "The old man said that if there is no serious problem, there is no serious problem, but your body has suffered excessive losses, and I am afraid that you will not live long."

Certainly not comforting...

"I have no love for life, I will die if I die." If she hadn't met this old man, she would have been dead.

"That's not good, you haven't repaid the old man's life-saving grace?"

She didn't want to be rescued at all, did she?

"Didn't you say it too?" she said lightly, "I won't live long. If I want to repay your life-saving grace, I have to wait for the next life."

"The old man doesn't like credit." The old man said confidently, "Don't worry, the old man will let you live until you finish reporting my life-saving grace."

"How long was that?"

"About two years."

I didn't expect to live two years.

"Two years..." she muttered to herself, "then two years, but I am a waste, what's the use?"

"This is the matter of the old man." The old man laughed and said, "Do whatever the old man asks you to do."

She didn't answer, a person who has nothing, what is there to fear?

So, she stayed in this cabin.

The old man goes out every day and is often absent for a few days. Usually, a 13 or 14-year-old girl will take care of her, bring her meals, and help her change her medicine.

The old man had never asked about her past, and seemed not at all interested in her identity and experience.

He has a peerless medical skill and is very knowledgeable, but he never pays attention to appearance and behaves casually; he likes to do handicrafts, chop wood and grow vegetables, and he enjoys it; No wonder the little girl always called him the old fairy.

She guessed that the old man was probably the legendary hermit who had great talent but devoted his love to mountains and rivers.

Before she knew it, more than a month later, her injuries had gotten better.

After removing the bandage, her fingers were as stiff as she expected, and she was a little reluctant to hold the cup.

The once pair of white jade-like fingers became the scarred remnants now.

She can no longer play the piano, no longer embroider, or even maintain a basic life.

She flicked the teacup off the table, half-clenched her fist, and hit the table hard.

"Crippled, cripple, you are a cripple!" She burst into tears.

Why is she still alive? Why are you still alive? In this world, is there still something she is nostalgic for?

"Hey, the old man managed to heal your hand, so don't break it again." The old man walked into the house and shouted at her, "You still have to keep your hand in repayment, take it easy."

She turned her head away and wiped away her tears.

"Okay, go wash your face quickly, it's ugly." The old man said with disgust, "Come out after washing, there is something for you to do."

She stood up silently, washed her face stumblingly, and walked into the yard.

The old man pointed to the dustpan on the table, and instructed, "Go and peel the peanuts for this old man. The skin on the peanut kernels should also be peeled off. The old man only needs the pulp of Baihuahua."

She sat down at the table according to the words, picked up the peanuts, and laboriously peeled them off one by one.

Fingers are weak, and it takes a long time to peel a peanut. But she had no qualifications to complain, and repeated the same action with a numb expression.

It took her a whole afternoon to peel a small peanut, and her fingers were sore and sore.

This little pain was nothing to her.

"Come over for dinner." The old man greeted from inside the house.

"I haven't finished peeling it yet, I'll eat it after peeling it." She had no plans to get up, as if she was competing with herself, and continued to do her work non-stop.

The old man came over and said with his hands on his hips: "If you are told to eat, just eat, be careful if you don't obey me, and I will punish you for memorizing your hard work!"

She stopped and walked into the house under the old man's stare.

She staggered, her back arched slightly, like an old woman. She was only in her forties, but she lived like an old man in her eighties or nineties.

The old man asked behind her, "Little woman, what is your name?"

She paused in her footsteps and replied with difficulty: "My surname is Qi, Qi Surong."

Even if she lost everything, she didn't want to throw away her name.

No matter how humble she is, she is still Qi Surong...