Like I told the classmate who messaged me especially to offer comfort, “I’m really doing all right.”

I just don’t want to look sad in front of other people, so I pull myself together and pretend nothing is wrong.

I just don’t want to open WeChat. I’m afraid of seeing the three pinned profile pictures that have all changed to mushrooms.

I just don’t want to think, “From now on, I don’t have a grandpa anymore.” But every so often the thought returns, and something inside me feels hollow.

The last time I went back to Chengde—and the time before that—Grandpa solemnly sat me down for a long talk. At the end, he said, “If anything ever happens to me or your grandma, don’t come back. Study hard out there. Don’t let people our age hold you young ones back.”

Grandpa, I did what you told me.