CHAPTER 117

1.7K 30 0
                                    

July is full, summer vacation.

    When Xie Tingyu woke up from the hospital, the exams at the school had been completed one after another. He missed all the exams because of this car accident.

    Ye Qingshui has already started the summer vacation, but he still has to rush back to school to take the make-up exam.

    Apart from household items, the new house has no daily necessities. So the task of moving fell on Ye Qingshui.

    Xie Tingyu has accumulated a lot of miscellaneous objects over the years, and he is still a nostalgic person. No room can hold his things. Ye Ma found a truck that pulled goods and ran several times.

    In the hot summer, Ye Qingshui was busy inside and outside his house. She wore a dark blue checkered skirt with two braids tied with a silk ribbon. She looked very elegant and light.     Ye Qingshui finally took out all his belongings. Many of his books were very precious materials. Ye Qingshui took extra care when packing them up.     She tried to find a box to pack the book, but she found a dusty wooden box from the corner. When Ye Qingshui opened it, she was stunned.     This box has been used for a long time, and the paint on the edges of the corners of the box has worn away a lot. Ye Qingshui remembers it. Xie Tingyu used this color box when he was in the country.     Ye Qingshui's eyes lingered on the box, she stared blankly at the stuff inside, and was in a daze for a long time.     She stretched out her hand and picked up a pale yellow grasshopper in the box. The grass grasshopper was old, and its tentacles were damaged by air drying.     That dilapidated body, it can be seen that it was meticulously repaired with paste, and the thing she made up at the time has been preserved for three or four years.     This is the one time Ye Qingshui ran into Xie Tingyu's sadness and made up to coax him.     Three years have passed, and it has long lost its golden luster. Grasshopper grass also became extremely brittle.


















    Ye Qingshui picked up another pile of things again. This was a yellowed test paper with her immature handwriting on it, along with his carefully marked comments.

    "On June 10, 1976, she made great progress but still needed to work hard. She was a little unconvinced."

    "On July 26, 1976, I was injured and couldn't

    hold the pen. Shui Ya took care of me." "1976.10.6, very physical. Good, but the Chinese language is still weak."

    …

    "After silently finishing an ancient essay in the winter solstice of 1977, she promised to go home with me to celebrate the New Year."

    "In the autumn of 1977, I watched the stars with her in Valley Field and made up my mind to send her and her children A ray of light." With a

    thick stack of test papers and scratch papers, Ye Qingshui saw from the beginning to the end, flipping through them one by one, as if seeing through them the young man who wrote these words at the time frowned and sometimes bends. Lip corners.

    Ye Qingshui sorted them page by page, smoothing the curled corners.

    Ye Qingshui suddenly realized that this wouldn't be... the box he never allowed her to touch, right?

    In the spring of 77, he finally let go of the box, but when Ye Qingshui opened it, all he saw were books. He didn't expect it to contain these "useless" things.

    Ye Qingshui recalled his previous life, and couldn't help feeling deeply.

    In her previous life, she had always been sorrowful, sad and sad for Xie Tingyu's harshness and reprimand.

The Rebirth Wife Of The Seventies (MTL) ✓Where stories live. Discover now