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Chapter 45 Big, Big White Porcelain Mug

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    He was dejected and so tired that he lay on the bed.

    In a six-person dormitory, he was on the lower bunk, leaning against the door, and his roommates were coming in and out, busy washing on the rows of faucets outside.  bedding.

    Every day they have to be neatly folded and inspected.  It is necessary to stack the tofu cubes very much, and the tofu cubes are crushed and collapsed.  The quilt is so soft and comfortable.

    The patched quilt cover, cotton fabric, and the blossoming peonies have faded away from all the red, and the white is only faded out in circles of white in a blur of colors.

    He squinted, staring at the gray concrete floor, his eyes were motionless, his chest rose and fell, slowly.  Everyone else has gone out, and the dormitory is quiet.

    The bulging forty-five-watt electric light bulb, the muddy light, makes people very invigorated, and the rough and dirty wooden bed frame.

    The windows are made of iron, and the windowsills are full of dining cups, white paint and stainless steel.

    Hidden behind the glass is another version of the dormitory.  On the dry ground, there were pairs of shoes that had just come off, and two pairs of shoes were too close together, as if two people were facing each other, clasping their fists to fight.

    Another shoe was tilted, as if a person was lying sideways on the ground, andon the dry ground, a pair of slippers came in, and the watermarks of "patter patter" came in, and another person came in, one by one.  The string of marks pressed the previous footprints, and it became wet after a while.  Drag out a hose in the middle of the clearing.

    A pair of black leather shoes is the head teacher.

    The big head became his head teacher.  He stood up.

    The big head didn't seem to see him, so he went straight inside, raised his head and said to Liang Leilei who was sitting on the bed reading, "How did you pass the test this time? Why did your grade slip to the end?"

    When Liang Leilei was asked this question, he blushed and just smiled.  "You do it well, it depends on your exam, don't make it to the end."

    Liang Leilei nodded.  The homeroom teacher lowered his head and took a breath of the cigarette, then spit it out, hesitantly.  Walking with big strides, swinging the other arm, the fat buttocks twisted and twisted out.  He watched, remembering the walk of a fat pig, walking with a wriggling rear end.

    He sat there blankly, pressing hard on the bed board with both hands. He didn't know where the brute force came from, and wanted to crush and crush the bed board. His eyes were fixed on the watery ground.

    In the end, Liang Leilei is not the last, but he is the last.  Because Liang Leilei didn't do well in the exam this time, he slipped to the mid-level, and he was considered to be the last in the middle-level, but in the eyes of the teacher, he was regarded as non-existent.

    No wonder she usually looked at him with such indifference and turned a blind eye to him.  He kind of hated the teacher, hated the teacher for treating him unfairly.  But he wanted to come back again, no wonder the teacher, who doesn't like students with good grades.

    He remembered that at the beginning of school, the teacher didn't know which student was doing well. Basically, every student was called up and had the opportunity to answer the teacher's questions.

    Once his name was called, he stood in a panic, holding the pen in his hand involuntarily, twisting it, putting it down again, taking the textbook, putting it down again, picking up the pen and twisting it again.

    He hesitates, or lowers his head very low, not daring to look at the blackboard. He doesn¡¯t understand the questions asked by the teacher at all.  Any topic seems to have nothing to do with him, he can't read it, and it doesn't want to talk to him.

    He just stood there without saying a word, the teacher frowned, "Sit down."

    He was relieved, and guilt, failure, and loss rose up.  His tears were about to come out.  What are the tears!  If you don't understand a question, you just don't understand it. No matter how much you ask, no matter how you write the answer clearly, you just don't understand it. He knows it, and he is done.  (Remember the site URL: www.hlnovel.com
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