Hard work after winning the lottery

The differences in personality were laid bare at this moment, on the small exercise book.

The eldest son, Si'an, stood ramrod straight.

He imitated his teacher, holding the pencil firmly with three fingers, his wrist suspended, his eyes focused like a primary school student.

One stroke.

One stroke.

He wrote slowly, and every turn, every stroke of his pen, revealed a composure and seriousness beyond his years.

Half an hour later, his exercise book only had a neatly written line of his name.

Neat handwriting and even pressure are the kinds of homework that Teacher Wang likes to collect the most.

The second son, Sile, has a completely different style.

He muttered to himself as he wrote, giving himself a voiceover: "A roof radical, a 'le' radical below, go for it!"

He moved incredibly fast, the pencil making a rapid "scratching" sound on the paper, as if he weren't writing but competing.

After finishing one, he would immediately hold up his notebook and proudly show it off to his friends: "Look! I'm done! My name is Hua Sile!"

His writing, though fast, also carries a hint of impetuosity, with strokes often flying out of the grid. However, it is full of spirit and vitality.

What gave Teacher Wang the biggest headache was Lao San Si Tao.

For him, sitting quietly and writing was pure torture.

He kept shifting his position on the small stool, either dropping his pencil or losing his eraser.

After finally managing to concentrate on the notebook, the words I wrote were full of boundless imagination.

He can write the "十" (ten) radical under the character "华" (Hua) as if it were a fork.

In his writing, the "兆" on the right side of the character "淘" often transforms into a small, menacing crab.

He always forgets the stroke order, and often draws a frame first and then fills in the parts.

The written names are less like characters and more like simple line drawings full of postmodern style.

But he was completely unaware of his own work, and instead, holding his "masterpiece," he ran to the teacher like a treasure, saying, "Teacher, teacher, look at my 'mischievous' work, isn't it cool?"

Teacher Wang looked at the tangled mess of black lines and didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Days slip by amidst these mundane yet childlike antics.

Until one ordinary evening.

That day, the kindergarten organized a painting activity themed "My Dad".

The children used their innocent paintbrushes to draw what their fathers looked like.

Some dads wear glasses, some drive big trucks, and some wear police uniforms.

The triplets' drawing paper was completely blank.

They had never seen their father.

In their world, home is their mother, grandparents, great-grandparents... but there is no one called "father".

On the way home, the atmosphere in the car was somewhat subdued.

Hua Yun saw in the rearview mirror that the three little heads were all resting against the car window, watching the scenery rushing past outside without saying a word.

She had a vague idea of ​​what was going on, but didn't say anything.

She knew that some problems were unavoidable and would come eventually.

Sure enough, before going to bed that night, Hua Yun tucked them in and was about to turn off the lights.

In the darkness, the second brother Sile's voice, tinged with a hint of cautious probing, rang out softly.

"Mother."

"Hmm?" Hua Yun stopped and spoke gently.

"Today, Dongdong drew his dad."

Sile said.

"His father can operate an excavator and dig up a huge pile of dirt."

Hua Yun's heart trembled slightly.

She walked to the bedside, sat down again, and looked at the three pairs of eyes shining brightly in the darkness by the dim moonlight coming through the window.

"Yes, Dongdong's dad is amazing."

"Mom," Sile's voice was even softer, "where's our dad?"

This question, like a fine silver needle that had been brewing for a long time and finally pierced the skin, was not sharp, but it carried a dense and clear pain, piercing Hua Yun's heart.

Her hand, which was tucking the blanket around him, paused almost imperceptibly for a moment.

The air seemed to freeze at that moment.

She had rehearsed this scene countless times and thought of all sorts of answers.

To say he sacrificed himself? That's too heavy a burden.

To say he doesn't want you anymore? That's too cruel.

In the end, she chose the gentlest, yet most elusive, answer.

She took a deep breath and said in as calm a tone as possible, "Daddy..."

"Dad works in a very, very far place. It's so far away that he can't come back for the time being."

"How far is 'far'?" Si Tao, the most curious, immediately asked. "Farr than Beijing?"

"Hmm," Hua Yun patted his little head, "It's much farther than Beijing."

"When will he come back?" Si'an asked, his voice carrying a barely perceptible longing.

Hua Yun's heart clenched again.

She could only continue weaving this white lie: "When you grow up and behave exceptionally well, he might come back."

The three little ones nodded, seemingly understanding but not quite.

"Then we must grow up quickly." Sile clenched her little fists, encouraging herself.

"Mmm, sleep well, my babies."

Hua Yun kissed each of them on the forehead, then got up and gently closed the door.

The moment the door closed, she leaned against the cold door panel, feeling as if all her strength had been drained away.

She knew that this answer could only be temporary.

Children's curiosity, like vines, will continue to spread as they grow, and one day it will touch the cold wall of truth.

The impact of this event was quickly evident in the children's games.

A few days later, on a sunny weekend, the sun was shining brightly.

Hua Yun was tending to the flowers and plants, while three little ones were playing house on the lawn not far away.

In the past, they played the roles of Sun Wukong, Ultraman, or the owner and customers of a roast lamb restaurant.

But today, the theme of the game has changed.

The eldest son, Si'an, found a tree branch somewhere to use as a cane, and imitated his great-grandfather, Zhou Yinchuan, walking with his hands behind his back and taking square steps.

He cleared his throat and said in a deliberately profound tone, "I am Dad!"

Sile and Sitao immediately surrounded him, looking up at him and calling out in their childish voices, "Daddy, Daddy, you're home from get off work!"

"Hmm!" Si'an nodded seriously. "I worked in a very, very far place today. I'm exhausted."

He imitated the tone of voice that Hua Yun had heard other men in the village say when they returned home.

"Dad, did you bring us something delicious?" Sitao tugged at his clothes, her face full of anticipation.

"Of course I brought them!" Si'an pulled a few pebbles from her pocket and solemnly distributed them to them. "These are chocolate chips, eat up!"

"Thank you, Dad!"

The two little ones happily held the pebbles in their hands as if they were treasures.

Si'an patted his chest again, mimicking the tone of heroes he'd seen on TV: "Don't be afraid, Dad will protect you from now on! Anyone who dares to bully you, I'll beat them up!"

Hua Yun stood not far away, holding a handful of wildflowers covered in mud, but she froze on the spot.

The afternoon sun shone warmly on the grass, and the children's laughter was as clear and melodious as silver bells.

But this scene, as seen by Hua Yun, stirred a series of subtle, bittersweet feelings in her heart, as if she were soaking in astringent plum juice.

She always thought she had given them all her love.

She thought that her love could fill everything.

But it was only at this moment that she realized with absolute clarity that the role of the father was a real and undeniable void in the children's lives.

This void is something that no matter how much maternal love she gives, she can never fully fill.

They longed for a tall figure who could lift them above their heads.

They need a broad shoulder to lean on when they are frustrated.

They imagined an all-powerful father fighting for them in that "very, very far place," who would eventually return.

This is an instinctive longing for fatherly love that comes from nature.

Hua Yun's eyes welled up with tears, and she quickly lowered her head, blinking to force back the tears that were about to spill out.

She can't cry.

She slowly straightened up and placed the wildflowers in her hand into the vase on the windowsill.

In the sunlight, her shadow was stretched long, yet exceptionally resolute.

Yes, she can't conjure up a father.

But she can make herself stronger, more resilient, and more capable of anything.

Thinking of this, a bright smile returned to Hua Yun's face.

She called out to the three little ones on the lawn, "Daddy and babies, the game is over! Mommy grilled your favorite lamb skewers, come and eat!"

"Here I am!"

The three little ones immediately abandoned their "dad" role, cheering and running towards their mother like three happy little lambs.