The sunset slowly dyed the sky a soft shade of red.
Weihao: "It's getting late, I should head home for dinner."Kanghui lived in the same direction as Hao, so the two walked together.
At the corner near Kanghui's house, Hao waved goodbye and continued walking home alone.
Step by step, memories rose in his mind.This road—he used to walk it every day as a child, but after moving, he had never returned.Looking up at the glowing sky, he thought quietly to himself:"Maybe Heaven gave me this chance… to mend the regrets of my past."
When Hao arrived home, the first thing he did was shower.When he came out, he noticed his father had just returned.
Mother: "Wait until Dad finishes his shower, then we'll all eat together. Later, go call your brother and sister."Hao: "Okay…"
He went to their rooms, passed on the message, then lay on the couch to rest.Without realizing it, he drifted into sleep.
Someone nudged him awake.It was his younger sister: "Second brother, it's time to eat!"
Still groggy, Hao shuffled to the table.
Mother: "Out playing all day, and now you even fall asleep when it's dinner time."Hao said nothing.Only when his father picked up his chopsticks did the rest begin eating.
He filled his bowl with food, eating quickly—maybe it was his growth phase, but he had a big appetite.When finished, he washed his own bowl."I'm full, I'll head back to my room."
By then, the family had a color TV, but it was always his father who decided what to watch.Hao returned to his room, turned on the radio, and studied while listening.
Then—the door opened softly.His mother peeked in."Do you want some fruit?"
Hao froze, staring blankly at her. In his memory, she had never asked him that so gently.Hao: "…No, it's fine. I'll read a bit more, then lie down."
She nodded and quietly closed the door.
From the room, Hao could hear the muffled sounds of the TV, and the laughter of his siblings with their father.He finished the page in his book, then lay down on the bed.
He left the radio on.Maybe he feared the silence, maybe he feared loneliness itself.
—And the lonely are always most afraid of loneliness.