So, I rode my bike into the crowd, taught those hooligans a lesson and by chance, solved a life crisis for the introverted male student.
Since then, Henry had been clinging to me like a glue.
He waited for me to get out of school, followed me and could not be driven away.
He gave me roses, but I soaked it into the toilet with a cold face and then threw it back at his desk.
He personally made me a shockingly expensive lunch and I gave it to the beggar on the roadside.
My sisters made fun of me for having a rich and infatuated young boy.
Anyone could tell that he and I were not from the same world.
However, when I was beaten up by my alcoholic father and could not go to school, it was him who broke into my private house, picked up the dying me and rushed over to the hospital.
When the doctor helped me sew the stitches, he turned his back to me, his shoulders shook uncontrollably and the back of his hand kept rubbing against his face.
The doctor asked him helplessly and humorously, "It's not you who was injured, why are you crying?"
He said, "I don't know why, but I feel an excruciating pain in my chest."
He still stupidly asked the doctor, "Do I need to have an electrocardiogram check?"