Editor’s note: Yaoyao has a tragic fate. Lu Junmei adopted Yaoyao, and Yaoyao and Lu Junmei developed a relationship, and things took a turn. Lu Junmei died at the hands of his wife, and his wife committed suicide by jumping into the river. A ghost is visiting tonight. Through the ghost’s narration, it is telling the sad love. The story behind the ghost is actually a sad story. A regretful love. Throughout the full text, the idea is clear, the plot is exquisite, the language is concise, without losing a good article, and greeting the author!
1
I’m waiting for her, um, to be precise, I’m waiting for a ghost.
The weather outside didn’t seem to be very good. It was raining and the wind was very strong, making the window in front of my writing desk bang.
However, this does not affect my mood.
I found that since the afternoon I was very excited and fidgeting.
There is a good cloud on the table. I can give her a cup of hot tea to warm her hands as soon as she comes, although a ghost may not need it.
It was early in the morning when I found this letter, but I just threw it away and ignored it. It was only in the afternoon that I remembered that there seemed to be such a letter, so I looked for it.
There was no signature on the envelope, so I was curious. After reading it, I couldn’t help but feel a little horrified.
The letter said that she was a ghost and wanted to talk to me.
To be honest, the first time I saw it, I was really a little scared, and I don’t remember when I did anything that called ghost angry. After thinking about it, I was less afraid. Finally, in one afternoon, enough to obliterate that little fear, so it became the current excitement.
The big clock hanging on the closet was already pointing to twelve o’clock. At this time, the wind and rain outside were still very anxious. I felt cold, so I poured a glass of water to warm my hands.
c1();
At this time, there was a knock on the door, and I got up to open the door. It’s a polite ghost, I can’t help but think so.
Opening the door, standing outside is a woman in a pink cheongsam with knee-length slits. She is almost in her early twenties, but she is about the same as me.
She is long and quiet, and she seems to be well-maintained. She walked through the wind and rain, her hair is very long, and her wet drape is a bit of pity.
At first I didn’t know that she was the ghost I was waiting for. I was sure when I saw her eyes. It is an extremely beautiful eye, slick, but such an eye is not what a normal person should have. Why is it an eye? That is because the remaining eye is inlaid with a red gem. LookNow, it’s kind of weird.
She wears a pair of leather shoes of the same color on her feet, which are very old in style. I can’t help thinking about her ghost year.
I didn’t show any fear, but let her in. I doubt very much why a ghost can get in the rain.
I politely poured her a cup of hot tea to warm her hands, and then took a hairdryer to blow her hair.
She seems a bit shy, not very embarrassed to talk. It was a shy ghost, if this woman was still alive, she would be considered a beauty-level figure.
c2();
I waited until I got everything done before I sat in front of her with a cup of tea. Fortunately, it was a cold winter rainy night and a long conversation.
She took my hair dryer to blow her hair, so our conversation began in the buzzing sound of the hair dryer.
“What’s your name?” I asked her, picking up one side of the writing board and started graffiti.
She glanced at me, but I was a little horrified by her. Those strange eyes looked too much, and I really couldn’t bear it.
“Call me Yaoyao, he—that’s what he used to call me.” She said that, and my heart shook, but it was just a ghost.
I didn’t insist on asking her name. Since she didn’t want to say it, I didn’t insist on asking.
“So, what do you want to talk to me?” I pushed the glasses on my nose and entered the topic.
She tilted her head to think about it. She seemed to be organizing words to consider how to say it. Finally, she turned off the hair dryer, and the room was quiet, I only heard the clock’s second hand ticking sound.
She pointed to a very classical hairpin beside me, and I looked at her puzzled.
This hairpin was given to me by a friend. He said it was bought from an antique shop. At first glance, I thought it matched me well, so I bought it and gave it to me. I.
“I’m looking for this hairpin.” She said, her hands tugging and pursing her lips and smiled at me unconsciously.
I took the hairpin and looked at her questioningly, “Is it this hairpin?”
She nodded and I came Interesting, is there any story in this hairpin? I looked at it several times, and except for some years, I didn’t find anything special.
“There is one thing missing on the hairpin.” She said slowly.
I put down the graffiti board in my hand and listened to her seriously, maybe, this is a poignant story.