Chapter 2 Section 2 Father ①

① Father Shu Yongshou, who belongs to Zhenghongqi, guards the imperial city, and earns a monthly salary of three taels of silver. I can't stand on my own at all: Is it better to live?Or die?I'm not as good as a little yellow chicken.As soon as it emerges from the eggshell, it will shake its small wings in the sun, and then look for small particles that can be swallowed on the ground and in the corners of the walls.I don't know anything, I have to listen to others completely in my life and death; when I am hungry, I only know how to cry, and the most specific way is to cry!I just want to be full, but my mother has no milk for me.Her breasts were limp against her breasts, and the nipples were just two unseemly pumping black grapes without a drop of juice.What, I'm hungry!My mother and my younger sister just boiled some paste in a small casserole, added some dry noodles, and stuffed it in my little red mouth.Milk replacer and fresh milk were not fashionable in that uncivilized era; even if they were easy to find, my family didn't have so much money to spend on me.The power of the paste is only enough to negatively keep me alive for a while, it can't teach the red and soft skin on my body to leave the bones.I can't even cry so loudly.

If I could be independent, I would definitely not want to be so perfunctory for a long time. Although I am a little sorry for my mother, how can such an ignoble existence be worthy of life? Mother Nature is right.She tried her best to keep me full and warm.As for whether I am still hungry or not, she is more concerned and anxious than anyone else, even myself, but she can't think of a good way.She could only cuddle up to my thin face, and said to me with tears in her eyes, "Won't you be reborn in a good place?" Then she kissed me so hard that I couldn't breathe. It showed a little blood color that was hard to see.

"Sit seven and climb eight".But I can't sit at seven months, and I can't crawl at eight months.I am very honest, it seems that I have already tasted the taste of life after living until July and August, and I already know how to be patient and perfunctory.Except when the little sister pulled me up and staggered, I didn't smile easily.My little blue and yellow face almost showed an air of forbearance and arrogance, so it is no wonder that my aunt always said that I was a "little thing that my grandma doesn't love, and my uncle doesn't love". I guess, I must not be very decent at that time.Although my mother always said how handsome and fair I was when I was young, I still couldn't believe it.If there are ugly children in the eyes of mothers, even if human beings are not extinct, they will probably have to be reduced a lot.When I was seven or eight years old, whenever my eldest sister-in-law came to visit us, he would definitely look at my "little silkworm".After reading it, he seemed relieved, bit his tongue and said—he is a very beautiful person, but unfortunately he just bit his tongue—"Hmph, the second child is fine; back then, it was only the size of a pea!" I don't like to hear this very much, just be a little smaller, and I won't be with peas!However, I am afraid this is more true than my mother's praise. My thinness and ugliness are undeniable.

When I was one and a half years old, I "grammed" my father to death. I can't say what my father looked like, because he passed away before I could remember his appearance clearly.This is a later story, so there is no need to say more here.I can only say that he is a banner soldier with a "yellow face and no beard", because when I was eight or nine years old, I accidentally found the waist card he used to enter and leave the imperial city, with the four characters "yellow face and beard" burned on it. In the year of the Boxer Uprising, I was under two years old, so of course I can't remember the momentum and scene of the fierce wind and fire, and the loud noise of killing.However, since I started to remember things until my mother died of illness, I have heard her tearful account of the crimes committed by the Eight-Power Allied Forces many times.She didn't say much about the images of the various groups of people who gathered in Beijing, because she, like ordinary women in those days, did not dare to go out of the street easily.She hated it deeply, so she firmly remembered the crimes of the foreign soldiers-they came to the door to commit murder and robbery.My mother's narration is deeply imprinted in my heart and is indelible.In my childhood, I hardly ever needed to hear stories of demons devouring children and so on.The foreign soldiers in my mother's mouth are more ferocious than the devil with huge mouth and fangs in fairy tales.Besides, fairy tales are just fairy tales, and what my mother told were absolutely true facts, facts directly related to our family.

I don't remember my father's voice and appearance. In which year he was killed in a street battle with the coalition forces.He is a guard who pays three taels of silver every month, and his task is to defend the imperial city.The coalition forces invaded Di'anmen, and my father died in a grain store on Beichang Street. At that time, neither my mother nor my elder sister dared to go out, my elder brother was just nine years old, and I slept on the kang most of the time. We really had no way of getting any news from my father—how many regiments, soldiers, and innocent people just disappeared like that. !

Thanks to my uncle's second brother who came to report.The second brother is also a banner soldier and works in the imperial city.Defeated, he passed by the grain store and went in to get some water.It was a hot day.All the employees in the store had fled, only my father was lying there, his whole body was swollen and unable to speak.He gave the second brother a pair of cloth socks that had been taken off due to swollen feet without saying a word.When did my father suffer so much and die, no one knows. Father's weapon is an old-fashioned carrying gun, which can be loaded with gunpowder as it is released.Several guns were lined up in one place, and a lot of gunpowder was scattered on the ground.The bullets of the foreign soldiers ignited the gunpowder, and my father had gunpowder on him, so...

In the chaos, the second brother was too busy to take care of himself, unable to carry his half-dead uncle back, looking for a car but no car, no one to find someone, didn't even the emperor and the queen mother run away? After entering the door, the second brother burst into tears and gave the pair of socks to my mother.Many years later, every time the second brother mentioned this matter, he felt sad and condemned himself.But none of our family blamed him.We hate the Eight-Power Allied Forces! It is not difficult to imagine the pain and difficulties my mother experienced at that time.The city was full of flames and cannons, and the rich people fled one after another, while the poor people ran out of water and food.My father is the head of the family. When he is alive, our family has some old rice to eat; when he dies, we have to fend for ourselves.The mother must be strong, not resigned to fate because of grief.She worked day and night, for a small wage, and saved her children from death.Mentally, I was a melancholy child, because I knew when I knew something.This bit of pain is not a prominent example.How many children were sold or died of hunger and cold in those years!

When the coalition forces invaded Beijing, it is impossible to count how many people they killed and how much treasure they robbed.This is a debt that will never be repaid!Killing in words is really killing chickens and dogs.The chickens of every household in Beijing were captured by foreign soldiers.The dog that dared to make a sound was stabbed to death immediately—my big yellow dog died under the bayonet.Stealing chickens and killing dogs shows the bravery and prestige of the occupants.In terms of robbery, the occupiers are indeed "civilized".They are not as rough as the heroes of the forest, who plunder the treasure and rush away.No!They all have high stealing skills. They patiently and meticulously go from house to house to search, pick and scrape, as calmly and delicately as a girl combing her hair.

The small alley we live in is not even accessible by cars, so it has never been seen.The residents there are all poor working people, and the most valuable thing is Aunt Zhang's wedding ring (perhaps made of white copper), or a silver-headed hairpin of Mrs. Li's wife. Alleys, there are groups of three or four, and I don't know how many groups come a day.Our doors must be kept open all day long, and women, with their scissors hidden in their bosoms, sit silently at the base of the walls, waiting for the robbers of civilization—executioners, open flames, and thieves.When they arrived, they first went to search for chickens, and then went to the house to rummage through boxes and cabinets, taking everything of slight value in a calm and pervasive manner.If there are any omissions in the first batch, there will be a second and third batch to come to Jiayi for selection.

On our kang are two old broken wooden boxes.I am sleeping near the box.The civilized robbers are at it again.Our yellow dog has been stabbed to death by the previous group of robbers, and the blood is not yet dry.They turned the box upside down and poured out all the broken stuff.After the robbers left, my mother came in, and I was still locked in the box.I must have slept soundly, or else they couldn't find anything good, and nine times out of ten they would give me a bayonet when they heard the cry of the child.What does the life of a Chinese person mean at that time!Besides, I am such a thin, unseemly child!