我们班有个叫邓超的男孩,一直在和白血病抗争。他眉清目秀,却脸上乌青,唇似杨梅,看着让人心疼。我走进邓超家,一眼看见走廊上放着炭炉子,上面扑哧扑哧地冒着热气,空气中弥漫着浓重的中药味。一张齐腰的方桌,已经脱去了油漆的外衣,方桌旁有跛脚的方凳和吱吱响的靠背椅。邓超的妈妈见到我抱歉地笑笑,手忙脚乱地用衣服擦拭着板凳,反复调试着板凳的平稳。我顺势看看房间,衣柜上的镜子斑斑点点,早已失去往日的明亮。松垮的柜门,不能咬合的抽屉,一 Our class has a boy named Deng Chao who has been fighting leukemia. His eyebrows, but his face black, lips like bayberry, looked distressed. I went to Deng Chao home, a saw the corridor on the charcoal stove, the above Puyue Puchi braved the heat, the air was filled with a thick taste of traditional Chinese medicine. A waist-shaped square table has been taken off the coat of paint, the square table has a lame side of the bench and squeaky chair. Deng Chao’s mother saw me sorry to smile, scrambled with the clothes wipe the bench, and repeatedly adjusted bench smooth. My homeopathic look at the room, the mirror on the wardrobe stained, long ago lost the bright. Loose cabinet door, can not bite the drawer, one