The King of Advertising

The morning of September 3, 2019!

People who have just gotten up, whether they use their mobile phones to surf the Internet, turn on the TV, listen to the radio, or read the newspaper, they all see the same push message or news.

"Famous writer, thinker, winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature, Qiu Xu, who created outstanding literary works such as "That Man in That City", "Chasing", "Dream", "Me and You", and "Ten Years" Sir, due to lung respiratory failure caused by gradual freezing, the treatment was ineffective, and he passed away at 3:25 am today..."

……………………………………………………

"What time is it, still sleeping?"

Hearing this unpleasant voice in a daze, Qiu Xu just realized that it was not good, he heard a pop, and then there was a fiery pain in his chest.

He got up and sat on the bed suddenly, and saw that he was very familiar and kind, but with a slightly strange face.

This is a middle-aged woman's face, still charming, although the face is sullen, it is difficult to make Qiu Xu really afraid.

Seeing that the woman's raised hand was about to be waved again, Qiu Xu blurted out and said, "Mom, mom, don't fight, don't fight."

"I will get up..."

Speaking of this, Qiu Xu was suddenly stunned.

Am I able to speak?

Am I able to move?

Am I dead?

"What are you doing in a daze, why don't you wake up to eat breakfast?"

"Don't look at what time it is now?"

The muttering dissatisfaction voice of the middle-aged woman awakened the suspicious Qiu Xu from the daze.

He stared at the woman in front of him blankly.

Isn't this the little Qiu Xu's mother Meng Ying that I have always seen in my dreams?

She is so real, her voice is so clear, she is no longer as erratic as she used to dream.

Qiu Xu looked around the room again.

There was a guitar hanging on the opposite wall, a skateboard, a basketball, and two pairs of roller skates.

In front of the window is a somewhat old desk with table lamps, desktop monitors, laptops, water glasses, empty drink bottles, bicycle helmets, t-shirts and other items in a mess.

A small bookshelf stands on the right side of the desk. In a prominent position, there are professional books on design and computer such as "Graphic Design Technology", "Logo Font Design Bible", "AboutFace3 Interactive Design Essence".

At the bottom of the bookshelf, there is also a complete set of old must-read series of world literary masterpieces such as "The Man in That City That Year", "Chasing", "Me and You".

The scenes in front of me were extremely familiar and strangely strange.

The reason for being familiar is that in the twenty years that Qiu Xu was trapped in a wheelchair or a hospital bed due to illness, he dreamed of this room almost every day, and this little fellow named Qiu Xu.

From the time he was born, he went to work until he graduated from university. To put it in exaggeration, he has not been absent every day of his life.

Unfamiliar, because every time he dreams of this little Qiu Xu, he is watching his growth day by day from a bystander perspective, and the perspective is still vague and unreal, like a thin layer. Thin gauze.

Now, it has suddenly become the first perspective.

Moreover, the vision is so clear; the smell is so real.

Qiu Xu couldn't help but twitch his nose again.

Is this mixed with a touch of wine, sour smell, and smell of smelly shoes?

Qiu Xu has always believed that this continuous dream of the same person for 20 to 30 years is an illusory life experience formed by various reasons such as his own illness and the second personality caused by the split personality.

To a certain extent, the Sims in this dream are another compensation for their gradual freezing and illness.

It's just that such a lively mother in front of him, now the lifelike scene and five senses make him very uncertain.

Could it be that the things I have been dreaming about become reality after my death?

Or is it true that the things I dream of have always existed in the so-called parallel space?

Qiu Xu turned his gaze to Meng Ying and saw her face becoming more ugly, and said tentatively: "Mom, you hit me again."

"This time, hit harder, don't bear it!"

This strange request stunned Meng Ying.

After that, she reached out her hand and twisted Qiu Xu's ears, and shouted angrily: "Smelly boy, you are too courageous, and you dare to challenge, right?"

"See if I won't twist your ears off..."

The heart-piercing pain came from the left ear, and Qiu Xu couldn't help but wailed: "Mom, don't twist it, it hurts, it hurts really."

"Ears are about to fall, really are about to fall..."

Meng Ying released her hand and poke Qiu Xu on the forehead again, shouting: "Get me up quickly and have breakfast."

When Meng Ying left the room, Qiu Xu got out of the bed, gently closed the door with his bare feet, and sat back on the bed, looking at his slightly darker hands and feet...

Suddenly, he covered his face and started to cry quietly.

In the late stage of the illness, for more than ten years, I can clearly feel the soreness and numbness in every part of the body, as well as everything in the outside world, but I can't move my fingers, as if my soul is confined in a jar.

People who have never experienced this kind of pain will not really feel it personally.

Qiu Xu thought that once he died, he would be completely relieved.

Unexpectedly, God gave him a chance to live again in this way.

Whether this is a parallel world, or whether the imaginary world becomes reality, or whether the soul is not bound by the body, it has completely integrated into this imaginary little Qiu Xu, making his own perception extremely real.

At this moment, Qiu Xu could only be grateful.

Thank God for allowing him to experience a healthy life.

He soon changed from crying to laughing, and his body couldn't help but danced in the room, his movements getting bigger and bigger.

Decades of imprisonment, once liberated.

It is really hard for Qiu Xu to hold on to himself. He can't wait to release all his desires for health, sports, and freedom that he has accumulated over the past few decades.

He couldn't control his mouth, making a weird cry...

With a bang, the door was slammed open.

When Qiu Xu saw Meng Ying go and return, his movements were stagnant.

Especially when he saw the clothes rack in Meng Ying's hand, his skin tightened all over his body, holding his head and begging for mercy: "Mom, mom, I can explain..."

"Ouch..."

"Oh, mom, I'm your son..."

"Ouch..."

On a square table in the restaurant, porridge, fried dough sticks, fried buns, boiled eggs, and small pickles have been placed.

A nearly fifty-year-old man with thick eyebrows and a square face and slightly gray hair, and a beautiful girl with a long ponytail and youthful breath, were sitting at the dining table having breakfast.

Hearing the howling of ghosts and wolves in the second bedroom, the beautiful girl stopped her chopsticks and gave a smirking smile.

This made the small dimple on her left cheek more obvious.

"Dad, my brother just owes something to clean up."

"Beating him like this every day guarantees that he will be honest and not dare to be a demon."

The middle-aged man glared at the Xiuli girl, turned his head and shouted at the second bedroom, "Okay, just hit Panasonic twice."

"My son has to go to work, his face hurts, he will be laughed at by his colleagues..."