That bowl of clear soup tastes different.

That bowl of clear soup tastes different.

Class 9, Orchard Department, Changjiang Town, Rugao City, Jiangsu Province (1) Liu Sijia

Sprinkle a few grains of fine salt, garnish with a few fragrant leaves and a bowl of clear soup to show affection.

"Ugh ... Grandma ..." After sleeping for a long time, I finally opened my eyes and struggled to squeeze out the broken and hoarse cry with my dry lips.

No one responded for a long time. I tried to support my weak body and struggled to get out of bed. But this little voice woke grandma up. She walked to the bed in three steps and two steps, pressing my rickety body: "Oh, my little ancestor, finally woke up." Lie still. I'll make a bowl of soup and work hard for a while. "Grandma's voice was a little tired. At the moment my grandmother turned around, I clearly saw the bloodshot in her eyes. Bloody eyes burned my eyes and stung my heart.

Looking at grandma's faltering back, I felt guilty. Alas, I have given grandma a lot of trouble because of my illness! I turned and caught a glimpse of a couch beside the bed, which should have grandma's temperature on it. She stayed with me on this sofa all night!

When I close my eyes, I seem to see my thin grandmother leaning on the couch, her bloodshot eyes full of fatigue and her eyelids drooping from time to time. She tried to keep herself awake. Under the dim light, it is grandma's lonely persistence and gentle waiting.

Soon, grandma came back with a bowl of hot soup in her hand. Grandma bent down, holding a bowl in her hand, and moved her steps carefully, like a pilgrim, holding a rare treasure in her hand.

Steaming soup was served to me. There were some green coriander floating on the oily noodle soup, and the smell was fragrant. Take a sip, and the refreshing soup slides down the esophagus, nourishing my dry throat.

Looking up my hazy eyes, I saw my grandmother reclining on the couch in the fog and falling asleep. Her hair was still messy and she looked a little tired, but her face was full of smiles and her mouth was slightly upturned. I know, this is inner peace, this is liberation. ...

Tears came unconsciously and slipped to the corners of the mouth, salty; Soon it overflowed my heart, sweet.

Quietly drinking the whole bowl of soup, accompanied by tears, I quietly stared at my grandmother. The soup in the bowl is empty, but it is full of love and care, which is grandma's silent love.

A bowl of clear soup is full of affection. Love is only in a bowl of clear soup.

(Instructor: Wang Zhixiang)