"Sanmao, this life is only for you to be sentimental - plum"

At 7 o'clock in the morning of November 4, 1991, the medical staff of Rongmin General Hospital in Shilin District, Taipei City, made an early round of the room and found that Chen Ping, who had just successfully operated on, was not in the hospital bed due to endometrial hypertrophy. The medical staff inspected the bathroom in the room and saw that Chen Ping's body was half hanging above the toilet and he had died of exhaustion. At 10:10, the procurator and the forensic doctor went to the scene to investigate and found that Chen Ping was using a flesh-colored stocking, tied and hung on an iron hook specially hung by a hospital above the toilet toilet for patients to hang a little dripping injection, and then put the stockings on the neck to commit suicide. The time is about 2 a.m. The inspectors believe that in the bathroom toilet where Chen Ping committed suicide, the hospital has a toilet handrail, and as long as Chen Ping has a little desire to ask for business, he can immediately support the handrail and save his life. There was no suicide note, and during the examination of the body, the inspectors found that the "Chen Ping" on the examination form was the writer Sanmao, who was 48 years old at that time. Isn't that painful? Isn't it lonely? Remember once seeing your inner world, the apple hanging from the tree. You ask, "Isn't it painful?" Sanmao, I have read your first novel, "Confusion", signed by Chen Ping. Writing about the illusion of being lost in the "portrait of Jenny" in your illness pours out the pressure of your heart that you can't communicate with the world. I have been keeping myself closed and happy once I have received affirmation. I understand you very well!

Sanmao, later you said, "There is nothing safer in the world than to be with the dead, because they are very quiet, very gentle people." You have not opened the shackles of your heart. I'm heartbroken!

Sanmao, it didn't take long for you to meet the most important turning point in your life - a young painter. He was different from him, he was not a teacher but an artist who devoted himself wholeheartedly to creation. You intuitively accept him. I'm happy for you, heartwarming!

Cinderella's spring, in a good mood, smiled. Everything is different, and with a loved one in your heart is the first step you are willing to take in the world that you have hidden yourself. I know it!

Sanmao, after that, you will write "The Rainy Season Will Not Come Again" very seriously, which is a real love, painful but sweet. My heart was tormented!

Sanmao, you didn't hide, and with shyness agreed to the first date. So you and I went on our first date in this life.

Sanmao, "My First Love" has not been cultivated to a positive result. Begging and begging, crying and crying, boldly proposing to each other, the result is that the other party can't commit to yourself, and you finally have to admit that you are hurt. I myself was forced out of my feelings!

Sanmao, later you met a painter, because you feel that others are of good character, you feel that two people love each other is enough, and all the problems in life can be solved. Later, you found that the man who swore to love himself was a husband with a wife. I finally got it!

Sanmao, such a life, old, thin, existence has no meaning. Only by suffering, it is better to live than to die. You finally let go, and your heart is light. This light life has also come to an end. I am sad!

Hate is a weight, and love is a weight. And Sanmao has no love and no hate, what a pity! I wish for an afterlife, I wish for an afterlife, sanmao you are no longer so light. I think Sanmao in heaven will understand!

I spend most of my time alone in the house, and when I look at myself, I feel lonely at a glance. This kind of loneliness and emptiness can sometimes force oneself to the brink of extinction.

I once thought, the truth of my life, what kind of woman am I, can I do something else? Love someone, even if it is someone else's husband, have a child, even if you are a single mother, and then write a book, even if it will be a long time and can not be published... It does not matter, life is hard, only afraid of light!

So I pray and believe that he in my life can give me a dream tomorrow. I believe in loving love! It really doesn't matter, I just want to say to you: not afraid of hardship, not afraid of disease, not afraid of desire, not afraid of poverty, not afraid of pain, not afraid of waiting. Only afraid of light! Only afraid of endless wandering! I remember you saying, "You love strawberries!" You will spend the rest of your life pampering her and hurting her. I believe it! Plum Gakujo November 16, 2012 at 2:42 a.m