我八岁那年夏天的一个晚上,我和姐姐妹妹们在楼上嬉闹,叽叽喳喳的尖叫声简直要把屋顶掀翻,任妈妈怎么呵斥,也没能降低我们的噪音。这时候爸爸走上楼来,我们以为他会像往常一样参加我们的嬉闹,可是没有,爸爸的脚步很沉重,当他出现在门口时,我发现他的脸色很不好,好像在忍受着很 One night I was eight years old that summer one evening, my sister and sister were playing in the upstairs. The twittering screams almost overturned the roof, and I was not sure how much my mother scolded and did not reduce our noise. At this moment, my dad walked upstairs, and we thought he would join us for fun as usual. But no, my father’s pace was heavy. When he appeared at the door, I found his face was not good and seemed to endure