When I said the word uncle, I deliberately emphasized my voice. It made him frown, but he didn't say anything until I went upstairs.
The sound of two people laughing soon came from downstairs.
"Mr. White, this is the medicinal food I made for you. I'll feed you."
"You are so mean. Just eat, why bite someone's hand?"
"Don't you know whether I need to be supplemented? Do you want to try tonight?"
I covered my ears and turned up the volume of my phone, but I couldn't avoid it.
In the end, I just let go and let my tears soak the corners of the quilt, but I just covered my mouth tightly to prevent myself from making any sound.
When I was fifteen, my parents died unexpectedly. Jason’s father was my grandfather's comrade-in-arms. He took me to the White Family and handed me over to the youngest son Jason to take care of me.
I did call him my uncle for five years and it was him who accompanied me out of the pain of losing my relatives. He would help me attend parent-teacher meetings, remember my birthday, always take me out when he goes out and even cook brown sugar water for me every month when I have my period.