Chapter: 266
...
That photo was taken seven years later. Noble was also a good-natured kid as an adult, curious about his camera.
"Brother Qiao, I heard people say that this thing will capture people's souls , is it true?"
"Brother Qiao said that he could keep the portrait as a thought, but can he still harm you?" Lai Baoniang scolded her son.
He fiddled with the camera and told Noble: "It's like a portrait, it just leaves an image."
"How long can this image last?" Noble asked.
"It will be a long time."
"Ten years? Twenty years? One hundred years?"
"Yes, one hundred years."
Unexpectedly, the word became a prophecy.
...
Later, Lai Baoniang became terminally ill. Although he knew about the birth, aging, sickness and death of human beings, Xue Lingqiao couldn't help feeling sad when he saw the death of acquaintances. Lai Baoniang took his hand and said: "Mr. Xue has helped our mother and son too much, but my wife still has a request before she dies. I wonder if Mr. Xue can agree."
"Ma'am, please tell me, as long as I can do it, I will never refuse."
"The thing I'm most worried about is my son. His reckless temper and going all the way to the dark will suffer a lot sooner or later, and he still asks Mr. Xue to take care of him."
With a move in his heart, he nodded in agreement.
...
Not long after, the doctor came, and after checking the pulse, he shook his head while watching him.
"This kind of tuberculosis can't be cured. I work hard on weekdays, and I'm useless. I'll prescribe some medicines for cough and pain relief. You can ask Noble to pick them up later."
Noble panicked instantly, and begged him, "Brother Joe, can your foreigner doctor friend save my mother? You said that you can live if you cut people open, right?"
He shook his head: "Noble, that's not the same thing."
"If... If that doesn't work, Brother Da Qiao must have other ways. There has never been anything that Brother Da Qiao can't do!" Noble looked at him with longing eyes.
He couldn't bear it, but he still told the truth.
"Laibao, you know in your heart that your mother's illness is hard to cure, and people are born, old, sick and die. This is the law of nature. Spend your last days with your mother well."
Noble's eyes darkened, and his heart was ashamed.
He put that photo in the mezzanine of the emerald box as one of his most cherished objects. Over the centuries, everyone he encountered, good or bad, was eventually compressed into memory.