I set you up on a blind date, and you've managed to overcome all the weirdness?

I don't know how long I've been dead.

That young man.

He entered my mind.

Or did I enter his mind?

I can't tell the difference.

Never mind, it's not important. Let him see it if he wants.

My name is Chen Shu.

My dad named me.

Trees are easy to grow; they are not picky about soil and can grow anywhere.

At eighteen, I went to the city to work and learned welding from a master.

I worked on construction sites for seven years, and my skills were pretty good. I also mentored two apprentices.

I saved up some money, just enough for a down payment.

The house is small, with two bedrooms and a living room. The living room window faces north and never gets any sunlight.

But I think it's great. I have a wife, children, and a place to shelter me from the wind and rain.

My child's name is Xiaoming.

I named it.

I flipped through the dictionary for a long time, but I got so sleepy towards the end.

I thought to myself, let's name him Xiaoming, it's simple and easy to raise.

I still remember the day he was born.

The nurse said it was a boy, and both mother and child are safe.

Xiaoming was different from other babies when he was brought out of the delivery room.

He was awake, but he neither cried nor made a fuss.

The nurse patted his bottom several times before he let out a small "ah".

The nurse said it was nothing to worry about; some children are like that.

I didn't think much of it.

My mom didn't think much of it; she just kept saying that the child was well-behaved, didn't cry or fuss, and was easy to take care of.

He is indeed easy to manage.

They're just so damn easy to take care of.

Other children wake up in the middle of the night and cry, but he doesn't.

Other children cry when they are hungry, but he doesn't cry.

He never cries when he poops, peees, feels uncomfortable, or gets sick.

He would lie there, staring at the ceiling, for hours on end.

If you feed him, he will eat; if you don't feed him, he won't fuss.

If you hug him, he'll let you hug him; if you put him down, he'll never reach out for it.

My mom said this child is really easy to take care of.

I nodded, but I had a vague feeling that something was wrong.

I can't explain it.

When Xiaoming was two years old, he couldn't speak yet.

I don't think he's incapable of speaking.

He didn't want to talk.

He can make sounds, he can say "ah ah", but he never says "daddy" or "mommy".

The way he looked at me was almost like he was looking at a wall.

My wife said, "Why don't we wait a little longer? Some kids are late talkers."

I said okay, let's wait a bit longer.

He still couldn't speak when he was three years old.

It can't laugh, it can't cry, it can't point, it can't shake its head, and it can't nod.

You wave a toy in front of him, and he doesn't even blink.

One night, my wife was sitting on the bed when she suddenly started crying.

I asked her what was wrong, and she said nothing was wrong, she was just a little tired.

I believe it.

Back then, we had to rush to complete a big project on the construction site. We left early and returned late every day, and after taking a shower, we would go straight to sleep.

I thought she was just tired from taking care of the child.

When he was four years old, we finally went to see a doctor.

We went to the pediatric department of the county hospital first.

The doctor asked some questions, did a few tests, and then suggested that we go to the city for a checkup.

The doctors in the city suggested we go to the provincial capital.

The bus we took to the provincial capital departed at 6 a.m. and didn't arrive until 2 p.m.

Xiaoming sat on my lap, looking out the window. It was very quiet, without any noise.

An older woman passed by and praised the child for being so well-behaved, not making a fuss at all.

My wife leaned against the window, watching coldly without saying a word.

The corridors of the provincial hospital are very long and crowded.

We asked someone to book an appointment with a specialist, and we waited for three hours.

The doctor who saw me was a middle-aged man.

He looked at Xiaoming for a while, then flipped through the medical report we had brought.

Then they wrote out a few forms and told me to go for a check-up first.

We went for three more days of checkups.

EEG, MRI, blood tests, intelligence assessment—we did everything we could.

On the fourth day, the results came out.

The doctor placed the report on the table, took off his glasses, and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

He glanced at me, then at my wife.

"Congenital neurotransmitter secretion defect".

I didn't understand.

The doctor explained.

Xiao Ming is missing something in his mind: happiness.

He's not unhappy; he simply doesn't have the capacity for happiness.

"Doctor..." I thought for a moment, then asked.

"Is there any way to treat the child?"

The doctor then scanned us from head to toe.

"Currently, there is no mature treatment plan available in China."

"Your condition is a rare disease; there are too few cases, so pharmaceutical companies are unwilling to invest in research and development."

"There are some cutting-edge gene therapies in foreign literature, but they are very expensive and their efficacy is uncertain."

"How much?" I blurted out.

The doctor gave a number.

I forgot how many.

All I remember is that my wife let go of my hand after hearing that.

I know she didn't do it on purpose.

She was just too tired.

Life changed after I returned from the provincial capital.

I convinced myself that it was okay, so be it. He doesn't laugh or cry, so he's easy to take care of.

I should go to work and do my job.

But my wife is different.

She started digging up all sorts of folk remedies, boiling this herb today and stewing that nourishing soup tomorrow.

Xiaoming refused to drink, so she forced him to drink.

After she finished giving Xiaoming the medicine, he didn't cry. He just looked at her, with the medicine dripping from the corner of his mouth.

Later, she collapsed first.

Her condition is getting worse and worse.

I can't sleep at night and I just space out during the day.

Sometimes when I get home from get off work, I see her sitting next to Xiaoming. Xiaoming is looking at the wall, and she is looking at Xiaoming.

The two of them sat there for the entire afternoon.

I advised her to rest, and she agreed, but the next day she was still the same.

One day I came home from get off work and found that she wasn't home.

Xiao Ming sat alone on the sofa, still in the same position, facing the wall next to the TV.

The TV is off.

I felt inexplicably flustered and took out my phone to call her.

No one answered.

They hit him again.

I accepted it.

She was crying on the other end of the line.

I cried for a long time.

She said, "Chen Shu, I can't hold on any longer."

Where are you? I'll come pick you up.

"Don't come again. I left two thousand yuan in the drawer. The password is Xiaoming's birthday."

I opened my mouth, but the words caught in my throat, and I couldn't say anything.

She hung up the phone.

When I called back, the phone was off.

I stood there stunned for a moment.

He glanced at Xiaoming on the sofa.

His mother passed away.

he does not know.

I can't describe how I felt at that time.

It feels like there's something stuck in my chest, I want to curse but I don't know who to curse.

Finally, I went to the kitchen, cooked a bowl of noodles, brought it to Xiaoming, and fed him spoonful by spoonful.

He opened his mouth, chewed, and swallowed.

That was the first time I felt that I might really not be able to go on living like this.

Two weeks later, I received a divorce agreement.

She had already signed it and didn't ask for anything in return.

I looked at it for a long time, signed my name at the bottom, and mailed it back.

The next day, my mother asked me to go and get a disability certificate for Xiaoming.

She heard from somewhere that she could receive subsidies.

The document processing area was on the second floor, and the corridor was packed with people.

In front of me in line was an elderly woman in a wheelchair, and behind me was a middle-aged man missing half an arm.

Why should we come here?

I wanted to leave, but in the end I didn't.

After waiting for half an hour, it was finally my turn.

I handed over the documents.

The person at the window flipped through the papers, glanced up at Xiaoming, and then went back down to stamp the document.

It took less than three minutes in total.

As he left, the person inside the window glanced at Xiaoming again.

His gaze made me very uncomfortable.

I tightened my grip on Xiaoming's hand and left the place.