Just when I let my guard down, Dean Hua rushed out of the trap and sounded the alarm. The whole hospital sounded like an air-raid siren. I rushed out and kicked him down and shouted, "Go to hell!"! I don't want to be high-energy! Before the security guard rushed in, I quickly escaped from the office and rushed downstairs to the corridor. Just as Monica ran out, I grabbed her arm and said, "Hurry up!" The security guard in the corridor had caught up with me, and I pulled Monica out of the small building, rushed out of the hospital gate desperately, and returned to the highway along the fork road. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. Shanghai-Hangzhou Railway CRH train. In the evening, in the opposite direction from the morning. There's no need to spend the night in Hangzhou, and I can't leave my mother at home alone-even though I'm not a high-energy person, I still recognize her as my mother. After listening to my story on the train, Monica gasped and stared at her hybrid eyes. "God, it's like a science fiction movie where you get your face changed?"? You had a car accident with a person at the same time, you were disfigured at the same time, and that person died, so the dean transplanted the face of the deceased to your disfigured face-so that you became the deceased, and you entered his life with his face. And the dead guy had a fake face with your name on it. "But there are still a lot of loopholes. Now that I have been sent to the hospital and have returned to the face, does President Hua have such a great ability to create a fake artificial face based on a disfigured face?"? And I didn't look the dean in the eye, so what he said could be a lie. "You should use your mind reading skills more." From a legal point of view, the real me is already dead? I'm just resurrecting in a high-energy life with a high-energy face. I looked at the night outside the car window and said,tile profile factory, "They are reincarnated, and I am reincarnated by face." Yes, I suddenly remembered that the Blue Clothes Society had replied to me on the "Secret of the King of Lanling" BBS. "I'm sorry, the heir of the King of Lanling is dead." Blue Clothes Society knows all this, he knows that the real successor of Lanling King, High Energy, has already died in a car accident, and I,stainless steel tile edge trim, who replaced High Energy, is actually just a fake! Dean Hua and the Blue Clothes Club are also in the same group? Is that why the Blue Clothes Club knows so much? Maybe it was a conspiracy? No, I don't care what other people think, I only care about my own life, do not want to carry other people's names for a lifetime, do not want to forever or in a high-energy life. Just like when I just woke up, how eager to know who I am? Expecting to have a different life, a rich family? A successful dad? A glamorous life? Even a beautiful girlfriend? In the past six months, the shadow of high energy on me will be swept away. I am no longer a wretched man who is submissive, nor a coward who is indecisive, nor an unemployed youth who has been laid off and returned home. Goodbye, high energy. I want to find myself! As I fantasized about the real me, Monica poked me and said, "I don't want to call you high-energy anymore, metal trim manufacturers ,stainless steel edge trim, but I don't want to call you anonymous either, because you have a name now." "What?" "Isn't it clear?"? You are the one who was in the car accident with High Energy, who died long ago, but came back to life in your body; and you are alive, but your real name has been declared dead. Yes, I just remembered the two names I saw in President Hua's computer. One was "high-energy", and the data showed that he was in a deep coma. The other was "ancient hero", and the data showed that he died in a car accident. I am not high-energy, my name is ancient hero! Who am I? It was like going through the birth canal again, naked and curled up in a ball, and the pain of childbirth pushed me into another world. The amniotic fluid had broken, and I struggled to breathe, pushing forward in labor pains, breaking through the wet dark sky until there was a white light in front of my eyes. Second rebirth. When I opened my eyes, like a baby was born, I saw my mother, a high-energy mother. And my mother, the mother who gave me a second life. She touched my face, and the warm maternal love brought me back to my childhood, which had disappeared with my memory. I held my mother's hand subconsciously, although the years made her hand rough and old. Neng Neng, you finally woke up. It's nine o'clock on Thursday morning. I remember that Monica and I returned to Shanghai from Hangzhou last night. I got home as soon as I got off the train, so that my mother would not be afraid. I got up and touched my mother's face and said, "Mom, I love you." My mother put her arms around me again, just like the beginning of this story, when I woke up in a coma for a year and was held tightly by her in the hospital. After breakfast, I took a pair of scissors and hid quietly in the bathroom. This is where the father committed suicide. Although I have scrubbed the bathtub countless times, it seems that there are some stains that can never be wiped off. It is my father's blood-I don't have his blood on me, but he loves me and I love him. I face the mirror. Seven months ago, the night I woke up from a coma, I felt alone in the bathroom of the ward and saw my face in the mirror for the first time. From then on, I didn't want to look in the mirror very much, and I felt that my face was nothing to see, just one of thousands of ordinary faces on the street. Now, when I look at my face, it's a completely different feeling. This face doesn't belong to me. Belongs to a man long dead. His name is High Energy, and now I'm wearing his face, and I'm him. Touch this face with both hands, there is nothing, touch it to sum up warmth, pinch it to feel pain, and even a pimple is brewing and about to erupt. This face has been on my head for more than a year and seven months, and it has become a part of my body, an inseparable part, although it belongs to someone else-under someone else's skin, my own muscles and bones,aluminium tile trim profiles, which fit so well that they have deceived me for so long, as well as all the people in the world. Touching your neck and sideburns, have you really had a face transplant? Why can't I see any trace? Can be described as perfect as expected. jecatrims.com