Jia Pingwa's unique talent and achievements are irreplaceable. What is commendable is that after he achieved great success and occupied a high position, he still paid attention to the realistic destiny and historical changes of China as always, and practiced the mission of "recording China with literature". Nowadays, writing for the villagers and preaching for the countryside is no longer his professional habit, but his life and mission. So he took care of China's series of works and gave him life and strength.
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Text/Jia Pingwa
In spring, I was stationed in Gusi Village on the north bank of Danjiang River, probably because I wore a pair of glasses. The farmers call me "teacher". People often ask me to write or give me advice or something. That night, the dew had come up, the moon had climbed over the eaves, and the yard was full of faint cold light. I don't think anyone will come again, just sit under the grape trellis and read the newspaper under the lamp. My heart calmed down when I heard the hiss on the wall. I looked up and found that the whole wall was missing and there was a bald head on the gap. I recognized the old man named Lu in the house of commons; He was lying there with asthma and phlegm in his throat. I asked him to come in, and he squinted and smiled. He wouldn't leave without coming in. And said good morning, he laughed, came in from the gate and said:
"Mr. Xia, I'm interrupting your study."
I said, "It's so late at night, why hasn't it stopped?"
"I deserve it! I have something on my mind, so I can't sleep You have to give me a definite answer. "
He reached into his arms, rustled, took out a towel bag and spread it out on the stone floor. That's a bunch of purple-black and black mulberries.
"Pick while dew. Isn't it sweet? " He sat down with his hands folded and a smile on his face.
"Are you going to write to your son?" The old man is lonely, and his only son works as an engineer in a factory in the city. I always write to him.
"Look at this."
The old man unfolded his sleeve and took out a folded piece of paper. I read it. This is a letter from his son to the effect that he will leave his property to his nephew anyway and then go to live in the city. I am very happy to say that he is blessed to have such a filial son.
"This is the fourth time I have been invited." He said, but his face turned yellow. He reached out and picked a grape leaf, dipped it in saliva and patted it on his temple.
I said:
"You should have gone. In front of my son, there are headaches and hot water to drink. "
He looked at me and began to vomit again, as if his whole body was contracting.
"But my house? Built four houses and three mansions. Mulberry trees are so thick that they pick three hundred catties a year ... "
"You are really, what's in the city?"
"You say the city is good?"
"good!"
"I just want an idea." He said, a drop of saliva didn't hold back and fell. "We are native people, can we leave the soil?" I heard that there is no sauerkraut in the city, the road is flat, and there is no leg weakness when walking on the mountain road; If you die, you will have to suffer another fire! "
I smiled.
"Did you laugh at my old man?"
I said, "Go as soon as possible. It's too lonely to stay here alone. "
"That's true, unlike others."
? He picked up a mulberry and put it in his mouth, pursed his head and pursed his toothless mouth. The moonlight fell on his forehead, clearly showing a few thick wrinkles. He looked at me, his mouth slightly open, revealing a black hole. After a short silence, he finally stood up and said that he was going back. I sent him out of the door, he muttered something, looked at the night sky and said:
"I'm really embarrassed, summer teacher, do you think I should go? In such a tall building in the city, I am afraid I can't see many stars at night. "
I went back to the grape trellis and read my newspaper again, thinking that this old man, when he goes back tonight, will he sleep alone in the courtyard with four rooms and three houses? I heard that he was brave when he was young and had the strength to pull the millstone out of the well. I have run this hospital all my life, and now I want to leave everything behind and go to the city. Farmers in China have been working hard all their lives. Finally, nothing is more difficult to give up than the cooked soil he has cultivated. Can come and go in a hurry, people are old after all!
The next morning, I picked a bucket to draw water on the well platform at the entrance of the village and passed by the old man's yard. The gate is open, and obviously the yard is clean. The mulberry tree by the wall is covered with half a yard of cool green branches and leaves. Mulberries are ripe from time to time, fairies are tender and spattered with juice, and purple-black spots are printed on the steps and tunnels. The door of the building was locked, and the old man sat under the door, with a bulging and heavy croissant hanging around his neck and a shoehorn beside him. The clothes are thick, but the outside is shorter than the inside. He stared at the chicken under the steps and ate the millet. The chicken's legs are tied and its wings are flapping.
"Lu Bo, haven't you got up yet?" I walked in. "Don't miss the time to buy tickets."
The old man looked up. To his surprise, his eyes were almost blue and black.
"Teacher Xia, my legs are not soft enough."
"Shall I send it by bike?"
? He shook his head and asked:
? "What do you mean, my home?"
"Oh, your home again! Is this the golden hall? "
"You don't know me. What have I left behind in my life? This is the house. My ancestors left no rafters, but I covered them, and I was so tired. "
I sympathize with the old man. You can imagine how much effort this house has consumed and how much comfort it has given the elderly. However, the house is getting old, green moss has appeared on the tile trough, the east-west wind has hardened, the gables have begun to peel off mud, and the eaves are somewhat curved. Swallows haven't flown south yet, muttering under the eaves.
"I packed up early in the morning to go. I cooked a bag of corn cob and took it to eat on the way. I brought a shoehorn, too. Straw sandals are not popular in the city, but I want to take them with me. I'll move those big hens, too. But how to bring a pig? The pig is 80 kg, and it will be 120 by the end of the year, which can kill 70 kg of meat! And this mulberry tree, which tree is ripe ... "
As he spoke, he coughed loudly and flushed. Finally, I coughed up phlegm, and my face was full of tears and runny nose. I didn't have any strength and collapsed to the ground like a pool of mud. I can't bear to look at him, and finally said:
"Leave everything to my nephew, you'd better go!"
? He has nothing to say.
"If you feel a loss, sell it to him."
? He still has nothing to say.
I said:
"Well, you are much older and see through the world. Although the house is not yours, what does your son have at home? When he is an engineer, can he lie flat? "
The old man some angrily refused to accept:
"He is brave in front of others. In my eyes, he weighs only a few pounds. I don't know? When I was young, I carried salt for others and propped up seven mouths with one pole. He earns money from them first, and then raises children. "
At this time, there are a group of children poking around outside. The old man jumped up at once, grabbed a bamboo pole and jumped out of the door. The children fled in a hubbub and stood at a distance shouting:
"Iron cock! Iron cock! "
? The old man scold a way:
? "I haven't gone, I'm going to pick up evil? ! "
? He came back and said to me:
"You see, can I go? These children have come to eat my mulberry again. How can I leave? "
I slowly lifted the bucket and went out. The children were still standing there shouting at a distance, and several older ones approached again, looking at the mulberries on the tree and drooling. For a moment, I thought the old man had gone too far. He may have been poor and had a sad experience, but he may have been like these children when he was a child.
? All day, I was busy in the field, but I still thought about the old man: did he ride a horse? I blessed the elderly, went to the city, went to a family full of children and grandchildren, and broadened my horizons. He will be happy to smile for his departure.
In the evening, I walked around the village road to his house. In the distant mountains, clouds began to rise, and the mountains were diluting, diluting the tops and ridges, dissolving, losing the solemnity of iron and lead, and appearing chaotic. A line of geese flying south is a big word "human" I came to the gate of the old man's yard.
The gate is unlocked. Walking in, there was silence, only a group of sparrows jumped there and suddenly flew away, leaving a blank. A lonely leaf is supported by the wind and its direction is uncertain.
"He's really gone."
I muttered to myself, feeling a little sad. I think the nephew of the old man will remember the old man and cherish every grass and stone here after living in this yard. But suddenly, I heard a hissing sound and turned around. At the foot of the gable, the old man was obviously sitting there, taking a nap: his face was covered with mud and he was holding a mud page in his hand. Sputum is sucked from the intestinal cavity to the throat, and falls down from the throat, and the thin body shrinks like a shrimp. The wall skin washed away by the rain has been smeared with mud, but another piece has been uncovered. Hearing my footsteps, he opened his eyes and shouted, "Mr. Xia!" " "
"You haven't left yet?" I exclaimed, almost angry.
"I have a house. This pig weighs 80 Jin. Mulberries are so complicated ..."
? I shouted at him and said:
? "Well, can you take these to the coffin?"
"Teacher Xia!" He suddenly felt sick, bent more severely, his face twitched, so stiff that he couldn't recover for a few minutes, and his hands trembled in the air. "Xia teacher, I also feel bad. I know it will be painful for me to go on like this. My son blames me, my nephew hates me, my child scolds me, but I can't leave. What else can I do in my life? Only in this land can I show my contribution. In previous years, my son and daughter-in-law always followed me when they came back from the Spring Festival. I lost this land and followed them. In the future, they are not good to me. Where should I go? I will stay here until I die. When I die, I don't care about anything. "
? The old man was in tears.
Sunset sifted from the branches and leaves of mulberry trees and swayed in the yard. The setting sun is in a hurry, and the shadows of trees move quickly on the wall of the house, as if the wall were moving. I sigh: alas, the poor old man, this land, this courtyard and this house have won him the pride of life, but they have become the burden of his life!
? Eight, Seven and Eleven Nights in Taibai Mountain
(This article was originally published as Contemporary 198 1 1)