"My brother is in his 20s and hasn't been abroad yet."
When she said this, she pouted and held my arm pitifully, as if she was really wrong.
"What's so fun about the US? The population is dense, the prices are ridiculously high, there's no control over guns, and the law and order is not good. Why don't you just play in the country? It's a big land, and it's safe and convenient.
" Her face was getting worse and worse. I thought she was too tired from work, so I specifically told her to take a good rest.
"It shows how much you know! It shows you are literate! My brother has never been to school and has never seen the world, so he is a foreigner!"
I didn't understand why she suddenly got angry, but I knew how wrong she was, so she just closed her mouth.
Feng Tingting finished venting, seeing that I stopped talking, her mood eased a little, and she said again: "My rural family, you know, I have never had a good life since I was a child, and my elder sister owes my brother too much, so I thought about it. If you can satisfy him as much as possible, if you really can't get the 30,000 yuan, I will sell jewelry to my brother to make up for it. My brother and I had a poor life when we were young. It is his dream to go out and see the world. , is also mine. He was able to accomplish what I was unable to do before as if my dream had also come true.”
After hearing this, I felt very ashamed of my rhetoric just now, and I also felt sorry for this strong woman. Child, I transferred her 30,000 yuan without saying a word.
Maybe I was moved by my generosity, or maybe I felt I owe something. In the days to come, Feng Tingting became better and better to me, even if I never played romance, I never talked sweetly, even when I was dating. If she couldn't make it out, she didn't complain and followed me with all her might.
Sometimes, I even feel unreal. Does such a perfect woman really exist in the world? I once thought that I was lucky enough to meet such a good girl. I swear in my heart that I must not let her down, work hard to earn money, and let her beloved live a good life.
I threw myself into my work, eagerly trying to earn a warm home through hard work and marry this perfect woman.
I consider myself to be ordinary in appearance, and a straight man. Although I have a high-paying job, girls nowadays generally look at their faces, and then their personalities. No one wants a spare tire like me, and I am still busy now. I didn't have time to accompany her at work, but Tingting didn't mind at all, and I felt I owed her even more.
Apart from money, I can't think of any other way to make up for it, so from now on, as long as Tingting borrows money, I will help as long as I can, never ask much, and transfer money directly. Most of the money went to her brother Feng Yubao.
At first, Feng Tingting said it was to reduce the burden on my parents, so I didn't think much about it, but as time passed, the amount of the loan became larger and larger, but I never saw any money back. I began to have scruples, but because of the man's face never mentioned it.
About the Creator
Peanuts and Crackerjack
Bottom of the ninth inning. The game is tied with two outs, two strikes and a man on second. I tap the bat on home plate. The rigid vibrations it creates reminds my aching digits that this isn't over. The practice swing only adds to the heft of mental burnout... Man on second, willing to chance it. Pitcher eyes him but doesn't give in to the dangerous bluff. I kick up dust, readying the peculiar stance I've had since the days of little league. The bat lays stiff upon my cramping shoulder. Pain has no reason to be acknowledged; it's a fleeting afterthought. The sun sits passed high noon, but the stadium lights are on anyway. They trick my brain into believing they are the cause of this sweltering heat. Sporadic clouds are motionless, they too, don't want to miss this exhilarating predicament. Anticipating the next pitch, intensifying roars from the crowd rumble the stadium... Behind me, the crafty catcher adjusts his stance and spits to the dry dirt. Behind him, the staunch umpire doesn't flinch or even blink; he knows how important his call will be. The pitcher winds up, his grip tells me its gonna curve. The release is fierce! Beads of sweat from his hair and face disperse in every direction as the force of his might is unfailing. My left leg lifts—an instinctual move that will increase the power of my swing. It's all down to my two, bloodshot eyes. They lock onto the speeding, white dot as it instantly becomes the target I intend to destroy. The swing is late, but I manage a solid tip. The ball is taking a fast bounce toward the pitcher who is recovering from the almighty throw! Man on second leaves in a desperate rush! I fling the bat to the side with a sense of urgency and make a mad sprint to the only destination I have—first base. Three defenders race inward to be the first to retrieve the skidding ball. Man is almost on third! I watch the open glove of my adversary, wondering if I’ve done enough to win this race. I switch my attention to his eyes, looking for a clue, some kind of reaction that tells me the ball is in the air and heading his way. All I see is frustration. The deafening roar of the crowd spikes! Something happens that I can’t see! My opponent abandons his post right as my left stride touches the bag. I waste no time turning my head to see the pitcher laying on his stomach, pounding the mound with an open glove. He misses the opportunity to out me and the ball has quickly bounced past him. Excitement grows! This isn’t over yet... It's become an imperative fight to tag out the runner heading homeward. The catcher falls to his knees in obvious despair as he watches my teammate make the run of his life. He knows it’s going to be close when he sees the shortstop fumble the ball a second too long. I jump up and down with no plans on leaving first base. All my chips are on the speed and agility of the active runner. His cleats dig into the dirt, trailing a dust-filled cyclone from the rapid and strenuous strides. With a thrusting dive and an outstretched arm, he lands on his chest to begin the crucial slide to home plate. The shortstop fires the ball to the catcher! It immediately begins closing the gap! Nail-biting doesn't begin to describe the anxious vibe permeating the stadium. The bench begins to celebrate even before he reaches the plate. Forty thousand cheering fans reach maximum crescendo, filling the air with a glorious sound. Everyone knows how this story will end… My teammate is met by the entire bench as his fingers inch across home plate, instantly followed by the unmistakable motion of the catcher's glove attempting to tag him out—its milliseconds too late. The ump swings his arms outward, officially calling him safe.
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