Wei Liangxiu’s daughter took out the book and quickly opened a page. Pointing to a tree above, he said, this is the family tree that the teacher taught us to draw in our moral society class. Family tree? Well, my daughter nodded and pointed to the leaves of the big tree. This is me. The little hand then went down and reached the branch of the big tree. My wife and I's names were written next to it. The little hand continues to move. This should be the grandparents, but I don't know their names. I found a piece of paper and wrote my parents' names neatly on it. The daughter looked at it and carefully wrote her grandparents' names on the roots of the tree. After finishing writing, she straightened up and looked at the finished work carefully. After a while, she raised her head and asked with a smile, why are my grandparents’ names so rustic? I smiled slightly and told her that this was due to the general environment at that time. At that time, people's names were all "rich" and "root". Your grandfather and grandmother's names were even more rustic! After hearing what I said, my daughter immediately became energetic. Dad, what are my grandfather and grandma’s names? Seeing my daughter's serious look, I suddenly felt a trace of self-blame and embarrassment. Because I only know my grandfather’s name, and my grandmother’s name has never remained in my memory. I can only confess to my daughter. She was still unwilling: "Grandpa and grandma have passed away, so who are you going to ask?" I was speechless. After my daughter went to bed, I rummaged through the boxes and cabinets, trying to find text messages about grandpa and grandma. However, even though I rummaged through all my old stuff, I only found two yellowed black and white photos. That familiar yet unfamiliar face suddenly became clear in my mind. When I was a child, my grandfather loved me the most. I heard from a former neighbor that he once saw my grandpa sitting on a stone bench in front of his house with a sullen expression, smoking a cigarette. When asked why, the old man frowned and said, "Xiaoxiu's hand was scratched, and I was in so much pain. !” The neighbor told me that because of my accident that I didn’t even bleed, my grandpa didn’t eat for two whole days. I learned my grandfather’s name when he was in hospital. I was in elementary school at the time and was led to the hospital by adults. At that time, my grandfather, who was speechless, held my hand tightly, and tears welled up in his dry eyes. At that time, I didn't know what to say, let alone what to do. When the adults were shouting to my grandfather, I quietly glanced at the medical record card on the bedside. It was only then that I learned the name of the person who loved me the most. As for my grandma’s memory, I only vaguely remember her feeding me. I suddenly felt that I was really heartless. I really couldn't open my mouth to ask my other elders and neighbors, lest they blame me as a thirty-year-old person for my lack of filial piety, lest my question would tarnish the love of my grandfather and grandma. Until now, I still think about the fact that our grandparents and grandparents, who treat us like treasures, know our joys and anger, our likes and dislikes, and were the best people to us when we were young, but we don’t know their birthdays and memories. I can't remember the anniversary of their death, and I don't even know their names. I only know that they have appeared in our lives and loved us very much. Is this the so-called love debt? How can we repay this love debt?