There was an accident at home some time ago, and my grandfather passed away in a car accident. The update has been delayed. I'm sorry to everyone. It may be delayed in the next few days.

I'm sorry for not informing you as soon as possible. Because at first I just got the news that my grandpa was seriously ill with IU, so I rushed back to my hometown. I didn't imagine that this would be the last time I saw him. I just watched his condition from the time he was in a severe coma.

deteriorated and eventually passed away.

My grandfather is a veteran cadre, but my family is very ordinary. Can you imagine that the child of a veteran cadre would be a laid-off worker? Few, very few. I admire my grandfather’s character very much. He hates relationships. When he was young, he was too

He is too strong-willed and gets into trouble with his superiors. He is a stubborn old man with a tough temper. I like this kind of perseverant person. Maybe it is for this reason that I have many cute and stubborn old men in my works.

I like the ordinary, and I like all the people who live in the ordinary, because only in the ordinary can there be truth, can we share weal and woe, and can we have many of the most beautiful things in human nature.

My grandfather is an ordinary old man in his eighties. He gets up at six o'clock every morning for a walk, and then buys breakfast for his grandma to eat. When he meets acquaintances on the road, he will smile and chat with them. Sometimes he will

He suddenly wanted to travel and sketch. He loved painting and was self-taught. A famous contemporary painter once wanted to accept him as his disciple, because art also emphasizes mentorship. Without mentorship, you cannot become a master. But he was rejected by this stubborn old man and was unreasonable.

The reason is that I am self-taught and cannot lie to others or say that I was taught by you. So I lost my only chance to truly become a famous painter.

So people often come to your door and trick this old man into opening art exhibitions. Why do you say it’s a lie? Because you have to pay for it yourself, and you have to carry the paintings to other places. The old man is not a smart man, so he often works and works on his own to hold art exhibitions. In the end

Of course, he was not the one who made the profit, so all the people he promoted liked to look for him. He could trick him into buying a bunch of weird things with just a few words, which made grandma very angry for a time. She couldn't even bear to throw away the washing water. How could she tolerate it?

Spend money randomly

Yes, my grandfather has never been a smart man. If he were smart, he might be able to be in a high position, he might be able to become a famous painter, he might be able to let all his children enter public institutions, and maybe Mo Mo's life would change as a result.

There will never be another chance to write a novel

It's a pity that he has never been a smart man.

But this kind of character may be the most lacking and precious thing in this era. Sadly, if I didn’t tell him, and his relatives and friends didn’t tell him, no one in this world would know what this stubborn old man had done in his life.

What.

He passed away peacefully, just like his paintings and his life. This may be the only thing worth celebrating.

He often told me during his lifetime: Your ancestors starved to death in those years. Those years were too hard and too poor, so you generation should cherish them.

The thing he is most proud of is that he thinks I am a "writer" but in fact I can only be regarded as an online writer. The old man cannot distinguish these things.

He would ask me what I had written, and he wanted to read it. Every time at this time, I would feel as if I was facing a powerful enemy, so horrified that if this stubborn old man watched "The Demon", my skin would be peeled off.

He wanted me to get my driver's license and drive him around China. As soon as the car stopped, he would sketch and I would write novels, eat and sleep in the open air, and enjoy life.

I said okay, okay, after a while I will go to school and take you around the world when my waist no longer hurts. But in fact, I was just perfunctory. Life is not about poetry and distance, you have to live in peace and quiet. I think so, but

Now I regret it.

I once found a painting from my childhood in my grandfather's painting folder. It was the "proud painting" I drew for my grandfather on his birthday one year. Looking at it with the eyes of my elementary school, the painting was simply perfect. It was Kakarot.

The vivid image of the Great Demon King Piccolo is displayed on the paper.

But looking at it with my adult eyes, I am quite speechless, because even if the characters are ugly, there are actually seven or eight muscles drawn on the arms of the two characters. I am even more convinced that I will never have the talent for painting in this life.

Already.

But these two paintings were carefully collected by my grandfather and placed together with his painstaking paintings. I bet he didn’t even know who these two characters were.

I don’t know what I’m writing, and it’s a bit messy. I’ll try my best to update it to compensate everyone when the ink mood calms down and I have the status.
Chapter completed!