"No, none of these. You said I wrote it down, that's it." Wusu said.

I was stunned for a moment, and I understood that Wu Su in front of me would not untie the hemp rope on my hand.

"If you write with paper and pen, then who can see it? My readers will not see it if they don't post it online?" I said.

"It's better if they don't need to see it, I'll just see it alone. You finish writing the last two stories and I'll just read it. You make up enough of the sixty-three stories you told. Then I'll just use the manuscript as an introduction and I'll just put a fire in the room." Wusu said with a smile.

I was stunned and opened my mouth wide. Wusu couldn't understand what she meant. After writing the last two stories, it was my death.

The woman in front of me was about to commit suicide with me. I couldn't help but chill and felt uncomfortable.

Wusu took the paper and pen to bed, and I realized that the bed was big enough. It looked like a double bed, maybe it was the master bedroom of Wusu’s parents.

Wusu leaned on my arm with a pen and said, "Teacher Luqiao, you can start talking, I'm ready."

Under this kind of pressure, I can write any story. I have been suspended for half a year and there is no story at all.

Wu Su was stunned for a few seconds and said, "What? Teacher Lu Qiao, can't you write it?"

"I...I've been suspended for half a year, so I'm not inspired to write about it immediately." I said awkwardly.

Wu Su was stunned and said, "That's right, but Dad has a way."

"Dad has a way?" I repeated Wu Su in confusion.

Wusu held it straight down and pierced it on my thigh, and I screamed in pain.

Wusu said in my ear: "When I was a child, I couldn't write an essay, so my father would prick me. I wrote it in a few seconds. You can bear it soon."

After Wu Su said that, she was afraid that I would not believe it, so she pulled off a little of her pants. She could see adult injuries everywhere on her thighs, which was very scary.

Wusu slaps me for the second time, and I howl again.

I heard the sound of a resident using a broom or something downstairs to the ceiling.

I immediately shouted, "Help, save me."

Wusu quickly covered my mouth and the pencil was tugging deeper.

An old man shouted in a voice: "Nannan, your father abused you when he was a child. We can understand that you abused him when he grew up, but let it go today if it was so late. I saw that you were calm a few days ago, why did you come again today?"

I endured the severe pain and understood something at this time.

I understood why I shouted that I would ignore it. At this time, the neighbors upstairs and downstairs regarded me as Wusu's father.

When I was a child, I was abused by my father and when I grew up, I abused my father. I didn’t say anything a few days ago, and I roughly understood what happened at this time.

Wusu said: "If you call for help or something next time, don't blame you for becoming Teacher Lu Qiao who only has 61 works."

I had already sweated coldly on my forehead, and I lit my head to show that I understood.

Wu Su let go of his hand and said, "Then now, let's start the story? If I can't write it out, I can continue to help you, but I have to change my pen."

At this moment, I saw the bloody water pen in Wusu's hand and said helplessly: "There was a little girl..."

Wusu hurriedly held a pen and wrote it upright. Even though the notebook was stained with blood at this time, I understood what Wusu needed.

It takes a story of righteousness, a story of a bullied girl avenging her parents.

A copy of "The Little Match for Selling Girls" I once wrote, can get away with just a little change.

I don’t know how long I have said it, but I know I said, “Live a happy and fulfilling life, it’s over.”

Wusu looked at the manuscript in his hand and turned to the beginning excitedly, and read it again with relish.

I looked at Wusu's words and were very beautiful.

I can even understand that these words are caused by my father's beating, scolding, or forcing them.

Wusu read it in my arms three times, and then said with satisfaction: "I like this sixty-second story very much. Then the sixty-third story tomorrow and Sunday will end. Let's go to hell together. If you go to hell, you must protect me."

My whole back was covered in sweat and said, "Wusu, right? Can I satisfy my one thing, just a small wish."

Wusu looked at me and said, "Teacher Lu Qiao, you said that."

"Well, can I smoke a cigarette?" I said quickly.

Wu Su smiled and said, "Dad has it, I'll just go and get it. Why do men love to smoke? This is not good. But I'll just satisfy your wish."

Wusu got up and rushed out of the room. I actually didn't smoke at all. But I had to find an excuse to keep Wusu away from me.

But obviously I miscalculated, Wusu's father had cigarettes.

Wusu brought a lit cigarette, with blood and stench of corpse on it.

I can no longer tell whether the blood above is mine or his father's. It should be mine if it looks bright red.

Wusu stuffed the cigarette into my mouth, and I coughed several times without even sucking it.

I knew I couldn't smoke, and Wusu looked at me and said, "What? You can't smoke?"

"No, no." I explained quickly as I coughed.

"Not what?" Wusu said.

"I don't smoke such bad cigarettes, so I can't get used to it. And is this cigarette expired?" I said quickly.

"Will the cigarette expire?" Wusu said.

"Have you been there for a long time?" I said quickly.
Chapter completed!