C1 Me in relation to twelve

From ancient times until now, there have been twelve lifetimes, twelve hours, twelve months, and twelve years as a cycle. It has been going on for a long time, and it has been going on for a long time.

In both ancient and modern times, there are many phenomena and descriptions related to the "Twelve". The history of the Chinese nation spanned five thousand years, and was recorded as all twenty-four officials of the Lingyan Pavilion of the Great Tang Dynasty. The history of the Chinese nation was recorded as all twenty-four ministers of the Lingyan Pavilion. The Egyptians had twelve constellations, twenty-four letters in Greek, and in the Indian calendar, "twelve" represented twelve lines and twelve winds. There are twelve sects in Israel, twelve disciples in Jesus, and twelve gates in the West.

Was all this a coincidence? Or was it inevitable?

At least I don't know it yet, but this is enough to prove the uniqueness of the number twelve.

Born at 12: 12 on December 12, 1992, my father was sitting outside the delivery room laughing when he learned that he had given birth to me. He was thrilled, thinking that the Chen family had finally arrived.

When my grandfather, who came in after hearing the news, saw me, he pinched his fingers and immediately cried out. He beat his chest and stamped his feet, scolding the heavens for being blind. He really wanted the Chen family to become extinct.

My father, seeing my grandfather like this, hastened to comfort him, saying that this was a good thing, and that you had not had time to rejoice, so why did you cry? But a big fat boy.

Grandfather shouted and hit my father with his backhand. He shouted angrily at my father: "You don't understand shit! This child isn't raised that big!"

Father's expression changed and he said, "Why don't you want your grandson to be better? Why can't you raise him?"

However, at that time, my grandfather didn't say much and just hurriedly ran back, leaving behind my father, mother, and me who was crying for milk in the hospital.

According to his father's recollection, he didn't pay much attention to this matter at the time because in his impression, his grandfather had always been an eccentric and reclusive old man. He didn't live in a good house, but instead built a shack at the back of the mountain.

When my mother was about to move back home after she had recovered, my grandfather suddenly ran to the hospital and said that he would not let my mother leave the hospital no matter what. He also said that the time had not come, and that if he had to leave the hospital, it would be fine until he was dead.

My father flew into a rage when he heard this, but after all, my grandfather was still an elder. My father was stubborn, and in the end, he had to stay in the hospital for a few more days.

When I was born at the twelfth day, my grandfather rushed over anxiously and told my mother to immediately leave the hospital. He even said that today was a lucky day, so if I missed this day, I would have to wait for another six months.

Although his parents didn't know what kind of medicine his grandfather was trying to sell, they thought it was time for them to leave the hospital, so they followed his instructions and went through the discharge procedures.

However, when his parents returned home, they saw that a hole had been dug in the corner of the yard, and beside it was a small wooden box and a locust tree that his grandfather had gotten from who knows where.

His mother fainted as soon as she took a glance, while his father was jumping around the yard. If it wasn't for the fact that his grandfather was his biological father, he might really have started beating people up.

It turned out that the box was meant to be used for the burial of the children who had died early on. The five generations of my family had passed it down through generations. Needless to say, it was definitely meant to contain me.

As for that tree, according to our customs, it was specially planted at the grave of a dead child.

I can't blame my father for his rage. Under such circumstances, no one would be willing to let it go.

Unfortunately, after returning home, grandfather didn't even look at my father and mother before sitting in the courtyard by himself and waiting for me. When the sun reached 12: 12 PM, grandfather didn't hesitate to put me in the wooden box and immediately buried me inside.

Father originally wanted to stop him, but Grandfather took up a knife and placed it on his neck without saying anything. If you dare to stop me, our Chen family will lose two lives today, one is mine and the other is your son's.

My father spat out two mouthfuls of blood, and at last he swung my mother into the room.

Even though my father helped my mother back to her room, he couldn't stop worrying about me, so he stuck close to the window and looked at my grandfather, who was busying himself in the yard, and saw that he buried me in a grave and then silently planted that locust tree on top of it. Then he sat by my grave alone with a kitchen knife, like a cat protecting her cub.

Father saw all of this, his heart was like dying embers, he didn't think that this joyous event would turn into a tragedy in the blink of an eye, he hated Grandfather so much that the roots of his teeth were itching. However, he really had no other way, so he kindly advised my mother from the side.

Actually, there was a reason why my father didn't know what to do with my grandfather. It was because my grandmother passed away after giving birth to my father, leaving behind my grandfather and a father who cried for milk. In other words, my father was my grandfather's son who had grown up through all these years of pooping and urinating, and although the father and son duo didn't interact much with each other due to his grandfather's personality, their relationship was actually deeper than anyone else.

According to my father, when he saw my grandfather do all these things that completely defied common sense and even had the heart to die, he really couldn't bear to leave my mother alone like this. He also secretly felt that there must be a reason for his grandfather to do this, so he waited patiently.

The next day, at 12: 12: 00 PM, there was a sudden change in the sky. The blue sky that was originally ten thousand miles long suddenly seemed to collapse, and in the blink of an eye, it turned dark, especially our small courtyard, where we could barely see our fingers.

So he left my mother and went downstairs, but when he went downstairs, he found that there was a cold wind blowing through the courtyard, blowing the dust into the air. Even the tables and stools that were placed in the yard were blown into the air, but the strange thing was, the locust tree that had only been planted a day ago did not even move in the cold wind, like an old banyan tree that had been planted a thousand years ago.

Grandpa stood alone in the middle of the courtyard like a mountain. He was muttering something, but because the sound of the wind was too loud, he couldn't hear it clearly.

His father wanted to go over, but he found that his body was frozen. He could not take another step and could only stare at the mountainous figure in the hurricane.

After a day and a night of this hurricane, my father finally fainted from the strain. When he woke up, he found my grandfather digging into my grave with a faint smile on his face, as if he were relieved of a heavy burden.

When his father saw this, he couldn't care less about his own weakness. He ran over and began to dig with his hands.

After digging me out, my father took a closer look and discovered that even though I had been buried for two days and nights, my breathing was still extremely weak. He could not help but be overjoyed.

However, when my father went upstairs, he found that my mother had already lost her breath. She was lying quietly on the bed as if she was asleep, and her body was ice-cold.

His father let out a wail, instantly releasing all his anger. He kicked his grandfather, who was stumbling his way up the stairs, directly kicking him down again.

"Scram, scram. I don't want to see you again." This was the last time his father spoke to him.

Grandfather was not the least bit dissatisfied with his father's actions and words. Instead, he laughed out loud and said, "I've finally succeeded! I'm done for!"

After his grandfather said this, he left without looking back.

As my father took me and took care of my mother's funeral, he finally made it through.

However, since then, my grandfather has never appeared again, not until my twelfth birthday.

I clearly remember, that was also the first time I found out that I had a grandfather. At that time, he was wearing a tattered cotton-padded jacket covered in oil and mud, his grizzled beard was dirty, and a part of his face was stuck messily to his face. The wrinkles on his face looked like chapped yellow soil, making him look unspeakably pitiful.

I looked at him in confusion. I felt strange and familiar, so I asked my father who he was.

Father didn't say anything. He coldly looked at Grandfather and indifferently said, "I don't know him!"