Chapter 5 stroke-2

From the time I left Shanghai when I was nine to the time I flew to America when I was thirty-eight, I lived in the east coast city of Fuzhou for thirty years.These thirty years have occupied the most precious years of my life. No matter from which aspect I recall it, whether it is joy, sorrow, joy, ups and downs, it is an extremely precious treasure to me.I remember that when I arrived in Fuzhou from Shanghai, I was sent to the nursery of my parents’ unit.The nursery is located in a large yard of a one-story house. There are not only trees and lawns in the yard, but also a piece of dirt. This makes me feel very novel, because I have never seen a dirt in Shanghai.Especially after it rains, the soil becomes soft and slippery, and it is really fun to step on it.The large space allowed me to relax physically and mentally, and my mischievous nature suddenly expanded, so I was often punished by the teacher and locked into a room with broken tables and chairs.My mother took time to visit me, and she could only stand outside the window and look at me like a prisoner. Sometimes she would give me a cookie for five cents. I looked at the blue sky and ate the cookie, and this prison life was brilliant. .When there are "friends in prison", I divide the cookies into several pieces, and everyone is happy to share.I had only been in daycare for a year before I officially started elementary school.The school is located in a residential area near the Minjiang River. I remember that there was a huge banyan tree in front of the school, and the thick leaves covered a large area.But the classroom where I teach is in an old and dark wooden house outside the school. I have studied in this wooden house for a whole year.So it is entirely because the fire of the Cultural Revolution had already begun to burn in the second year, and the school was smashed into a mess within a few days.Teachers and students have been incited to rebel, who dares to teach and read?I couldn't read the books anymore, so I went with the adults to the provincial party committee compound and Dongjiekou to read big-character posters, to watch the "capitalist-roaders" and "the land rich against evil rightists".I can’t even read it. It’s just to watch the excitement. I envy those senior students wearing red armbands. All of them are Red Guards. They can take the train to Beijing to meet Chairman Mao, or pull up a team to visit Gutian Ruijin in West Fujian. , So I had the courage to go to a school branch called "Outpost" Red Guards, and asked to join the Red Guards.A little girl with shofar braids and a military cap looked at me from toe to head and from head to toe and said, "You can only join the Red Soldier." I asked the Red Soldier if I could take the train to Beijing to meet Chairman Mao.The little girl glared and said, "Who says no? We will pull him off the horse and put another foot on him if he says no, so that he will never turn over again!" After speaking, the little girl asked my family's composition.I said my father was a worker.She asked my grandfather what the ingredients were.I thought about it and said it was a middle peasant.She spread her fingers and said to herself: "Poor and lower-middle peasants, poor peasants, lower-middle peasants...middle peasants, middle peasants can't do it!" She turned me away.In those few years when I was free and unrestrained in society, I heard and witnessed all kinds of scenes of the Cultural Revolution, and contained a large number of images of class struggle with the empty heart of a young man, and took who is our enemy and who is our friend as the only criterion for judging people.At that time, my father joined an organization called the Workers' Red Guard, which belonged to the royalists, and specifically sang against the rebels.I remember very clearly that once the rebels wanted to drive an American-style jeep in the unit to the factory for revolutionary use, but my father, who was the chief of the supply and marketing section, was determined not to drive the car, so the rebels forced the driver to drive away. I saw my father standing alone at the gate of the factory, blocking the jeep with his arms outstretched.The rebels in the car shouted: "We are a revolutionary action! You are not allowed to stop it!" My father said: "We must grasp the revolution and promote production. This is a production car and cannot be driven away casually. You have to drive away from me. Drive over." The image of my father's righteousness and dignity is a bit like Li Yuhe in the later Peking Opera model "Red Lantern", which is firmly engraved in my memory.At that time, the rebels had already snatched many guns from the army, and their power was growing day by day. They often attacked and captured the royalists in the dark, and the atmosphere was very tense.My father offended the rebels by blocking a car, so he was put on the "blacklist" by the rebels.That night, my father didn't dare to sleep at home, so he huddled in the simple kitchen opposite.In the early morning of the next day, a friend led the way, and my father followed more than ten meters behind, and both rode towards the sports compound located in the suburbs.If an abnormal situation was found in the front, my friend would signal to my father with gestures, and my father would immediately turn around or take a new path.The day went smoothly, and my friend came back at noon to tell my mother that my father had arrived at the destination safely.Father hid in this heavily guarded royalist stronghold for half a year.I later saw similar tension in many films about underground struggles.Later, the various factions finally "greatly united" and "three-in-one", and revolutionary committees or revolutionary leading groups were being established everywhere.Chairman Mao sent golden yellow Pakistani mangoes to the working class in the capital. Hearing that the working class in the capital was selfless, he distributed a mango to the working class in Fujian.On that day, thousands of people flocked to Wuyi Square, and finally a float covered in red cloth slowly drove over. At the highest part of the frame was an exquisite square glass cover, and a huge mango lay inside. , Glittering golden in the sunlight.Thousands of people cheered and sang, I squeezed in the crowd, and I also took a look, and I was so happy that I also sang and sang with others.Within a few days, people heard rumors that this mango was fake and made of wax. A real mango could not be so big, nor could it be so shiny and golden, and it would not be so fresh for such a long time without rotting.A few days later, I heard rumors that they wanted to investigate the rumors, saying how could the mangoes given by Chairman Mao be fake?Of course the mangoes shipped from the golden city of Beijing will be shining golden!It is said that Pakistan is one of hundreds of millions of mangoes, so there are such big ones.Moreover, all of them have been specially processed, and they will not rot for several years. Not only will they not rot, but they will always be fresh as if they were just picked from the tree.So everyone rejoiced.Soon, the school began to "resume classes and start a revolution", and we walked into the long-lost school again, into the empty classroom, without desks, chairs, glass windows, blackboards, and textbooks, but it didn't affect our enthusiasm for going to school at all.We went to school with a small bench every day, and the teacher walked into the classroom with a small soft leather blackboard under his arm, hung the blackboard on the wall and started class.In Chinese class, "Chairman Mao's Quotations" is taught, and in arithmetic class, some simple addition, subtraction, multiplication and division are taught.The school is paramilitarized, and the system is organized according to company and shift. I still remember that I was in four companies and one row and three shifts.Not long after, the school established the Little Red Battalion, and the school’s revolutionary leading group actually announced that I would be the battalion commander of the Little Red Battalion, and even allocated a room for the headquarters of the Little Red Battalion.This made me appreciate the charm of power for the first time. I gave orders to the companies and platoons in the battalion headquarters during the day, and read the four volumes of "Selected Works of Mao" in the battalion headquarters at night. I read through the four volumes of "Selected Works of Mao" three times. Several large notebooks.I read "Selected Works of Mao" at that time, and it was inevitable that I swallowed it all, but the accurate, simple, clear, smooth and vivid style of writing in "Selected Works of Mao" had a great influence on me, and it still has an influence today.As soon as the school was on vacation, I and a few platoon cadres of the red soldiers took turns staying on duty at the school to strictly prevent class enemies from sabotaging activities.I remember one time, my father passed by the school and wanted to go to the toilet in the school to relieve his hand. I stopped him at the door and asked him to walk a little longer to the public toilet to relieve his hand.My stern and selfless behavior at the time was like that Soviet soldier standing guard who stopped Comrade Lenin who forgot to bring his ID.Not only was my father not annoyed, but he recounted the incident to his colleagues and friends, praising me for being thorough in "fighting against private interests and criticizing revisionism" and that I could be a red successor.I have been the battalion commander of the Red Army for several years, so I have accumulated a lot of experience as the "top leader", but I have obviously done a lot of wrong things, such as organizing the Red Army to stop some suburban farmers from selling seasonal vegetables at the street corner of Xincun , It's called cracking down on speculation and so on.Thinking about it to this day still makes my heart heavy, and I feel very guilty.I soon "graduated" from elementary school and entered middle school to study in junior high school. The middle school was also empty. The middle school should be called No. 23 Middle School, but everyone called it No. 23 Kong, which seemed to be an abbreviation for the number of the Air Force.The freshmen are also assigned according to the company schedule, but the school unexpectedly didn't assign me any level of position, not even second-line idle positions such as life committee members.Anyway, I was also a battalion-level cadre, so I was lost for several days just to move to the end. Later, I understood and deeply sympathized with the loss of those retired cadres who left their leadership positions.During that period of time, I was as relaxed as if I had let go of a heavy burden. I devoted myself to practicing hard on the basketball court, trying to make it to the Bayi Boys Basketball Team. In the end, I didn’t exceed 1.8 meters in height. I was only called up by the school basketball team, and I still sat on the bench. backup defender.The feeling of sitting on the bench is really uncomfortable, because in the last year of elementary school, I was also the main player to help our little-known elementary school win the championship of the district elementary school basketball game.The favor and glory of the past are no longer, let me lose and make me uncomfortable, and let me taste the taste of life without being arrogant.At this time, the school started the "teaching reform", and courses such as industrial basics, agricultural basics, chemistry, English, etc. were brought back one by one like lagging sheep.My interest in learning was ignited, especially in the composition class, not only writing critical articles, but also writing narrative essays, which aroused my interest even more.Once in a Chinese class, the Chinese teacher read a composition of mine in class.It made my heart surge with bursts of uncontrollable pleasure.I think it must have something to do with these irrepressible pleasures that I later immersed myself in writing novels.The "teaching reform" in the school has not been carried out for a long time, and it is considered to be a revival of the revisionist education line, and waves of criticism have been carried out throughout the school.At the same time, a new thing was born in Fuzhou——Beifeng Branch School. For a while, all middle schools set up branch schools on Beifeng Mountain in the outer suburbs.Every few months, the school pulls each company to the branch school to go half-farm and half-study.At the beginning, they pretended to attend some classes, but then they gradually slackened and turned into full-time labor. Students thought of various ways to ask for leave and return to the city.One of my classmates had a stomach problem and wanted to ask for leave to return to the city. The teacher said that he needed a certificate from the doctor at the commune health center, so he sent me to accompany him down the mountain to the commune health center for treatment. The doctor wrote after the diagnosis: "As for going back to the city to rest and treat , is determined by the school".It must not be allowed for this matter to be decided by the school.The classmate was frowning all the way. When I was resting on the way up the mountain, I took the medical records and looked again. I suddenly saw that the word "you" was written in a rough and sparse manner, so I took out a pen and changed the word "you" into the word "wang". No trace.After returning to the branch school, he showed his medical records to the teacher and was allowed to return to the city that night.The next day, he went down the mountain with his luggage on his back, with a painful expression on his face, and he only squeezed his eyes when he saw me.More than ten years later, I worked as an editor in a newspaper. Someone asked me when I started to be an editor. I said that I started this job when I was sixteen.To go back to the city from the branch school, you have to walk for more than two hours to a small town, and then take a shuttle bus into the city. It costs 60 cents to buy a ticket.The school requires students to learn the "zip training" of the People's Liberation Army to return to the city, and throw their luggage on a large truck to transport back to the city. The students lined up early in the morning to walk back to the city. The "Scuds" went far ahead, and most of the rest were female students and the infirm.At that time, because I secretly liked a girl in my class, I deliberately took the wrong way to go around to the back of the line, and then strode to catch up with the line. While telling how "unlucky" I was, I went the wrong way, and at the same time, I bravely helped the girl with a backpack.Then I organized everyone to hitchhike on the highway, and refused to stop after seven or eight cars were stopped. I told everyone to hide behind the big rock on the side of the road, and I asked two prettier female students to stop the cars. Just stop.At the same time as the two female students jumped into the cab, everyone swarmed up and climbed into the trunk, yelling and yelling that it was like a movie, and then singing all the way into the city.Two years of junior high school and two years of high school, I just finished tossing about studying engineering, agriculture, military and participating in various political movements. After "graduating from high school" (this high school graduation requires a lot of discounts), except for a small number of students who stay in the city to recruit workers into factories, most of the other students go to the countryside to receive re-education from the poor and lower-middle peasants according to the policy.I could have stayed in the city and recruited workers to work in a factory, but I insisted on going to the countryside.There are two reasons for this. One is that I have already started writing novels, and to write novels about rural life, one must first experience rural life; And happy mood to go to the countryside. In the few months before "graduating from high school", the school has already begun to mobilize and express its views on "going to the mountains and going to the countryside" to raise everyone's awareness of the great significance of "going to the mountains and going to the countryside".Everyone wrote letters of determination and applications, which were posted all over the wall. I only wrote two sentences on one page of homework paper: "Chairman Mao waved me forward, 'go to the mountains and go to the countryside' to make revolution." Then I signed my name. .I feel that I am determined to "go to the mountains and go to the countryside", so I don't need to yell bold words.But when my father came to the school to attend my parent-teacher meeting, he saw that I only wrote two lines of familiar and vulgar slogans in my determination book, unlike other people’s overwhelming rhetoric, so he felt that my writing was too boring, so he sat on the sidelines during the meeting .

A few years ago, a group of "old educated youth" on the west coast of the United States initiated the establishment of a Chinese educated youth association, and there was an overwhelming response. Then, an award-winning essay on the subject of educated youth was held, and the winning works were published in newspapers. The response was extremely enthusiastic .I also wanted to write an article and submit it, and then I thought about the ordinary life of jumping in the queue and settling down, without any thrilling ups and downs, so I gave up this idea.I remember that when I was deciding where to jump in the queue and settle down, my parents thought of my hometown in Jiangsu and wanted to send me back to my hometown to work in agriculture.They think that going to their hometown is better than going to a strange mountain village, no matter what, they will have relatives and friends to take care of them.Even if you can't be transferred back to the city in the future, you can return to your roots in your hometown.At this time, their unit contacted a brigade in the suburbs of Fuzhou, and set up an educated youth spot in one of the brigades on the condition that they help build a brigade and run a factory.So instead of going back to my hometown in Jiangsu, I went to a place called Ebi Village under the North Peak of Fuzhou to jump in and settle down.This is a small team of only thirty households, and dozens of educated youths poured in at once, creating a situation where there are too many monks and too few groceries.So the team flexibly arranged the educated youths to work, called everyone to help when the farming was busy, and let everyone go back to the city to rest when the farming was slack, so that both parties were happy.Because I was selected as the captain of the educated youth in the second year, I had certain responsibilities on my shoulders, so I stayed at the educated youth spot most of the time.This allowed me to experience rural life better and deeper. Because I consciously became one with the peasants, I made friends with almost all the men, women, and children in the team. , The boundary between urban people and rural people.More than three years of rural life have given me a deeper understanding and understanding of the countryside and farmers, and a transcendent understanding of land and food, which has had a fundamental impact on my future life.Of course, in the past three years or so, I have suffered a lot, but compared with the educated youth in the Great Northern Wilderness under the blizzard, I am much luckier.They climbed snow-capped mountains and crossed grasslands, but I just went up the mountain to fight guerrillas, so there is no comparison.The reason why I talk about and nagging about me is nothing more than telling people about my life experience.It can be seen that my life experience is very ordinary. Although it is full of ups and downs, it is not too rough in general.A bit unique maybe, but largely the same as my peers from my era, a product of that particular era.

The ten years from my primary school to my "high school graduation" were exactly the ten years of the Cultural Revolution, and the country was in a turbulent and absurd period, which ruined the normal opportunity for me and my generation to study and grow up.This is the country's misfortune, but also my personal misfortune. The country had a stroke, and I also had a stroke.At such an extraordinary time, literature came to me like a beautiful girl and became my first love.When I was in junior high school, I found several bound Chinese textbooks for high school workers in a cardboard box in a neighbor’s house. I read a few short stories in it, one of which was "Lotus Lake" by Sun Li. One is "Mr. Warwick" by Zhang Tianyi; one is by Lu Xun; one is "Fanka" by Russian writer Chekhov.My closed heart seemed to open several windows at the same time, and the sunlight pierced in like a sharp sword. I don’t know how many times I read it. It was at this time that I decided to write novels and take the road of literature.This is a very firm and pure desire and belief, which makes me pursue it all my life.I started to collect novels to read, and spread out homework papers to write novels.I threw away other courses, deliberately alienated my classmates and friends, and devoted myself to writing novels like later professional writers, writing three to four thousand words or more every day.I wrote one after another, and when I finished, I copied it neatly on the grid paper, put it in the mailbox very sacredly, and sent it to literary magazines and newspaper supplements in this province and other provinces.Then live every day with deep anticipation.At that time, I felt that the postman was my closest person, although he disappointed me again and again, and one rejection letter after another was like a heavy punch after another, which made me staggered.But I didn't get down, I kept reading, writing, copying, submitting and accepting rejections.It was like this in middle school, it was like this when you went to the countryside to jump into the team, it was like this when you were transferred to a factory, and it was like this when you were seconded to a government office. It was like this for ten years.Reading and writing have become my most important life. If I don't read or write for a day, I feel that this day is meaningless and I strongly question myself.In the past ten years, I have received more than 300 rejected manuscripts, which filled my three drawers.I went from disappointment to despair, from despair to numbness.But I firmly believe that my novels can be published, as long as I write one after another.I spent all my money on books, newspapers and periodicals. In ten years I spent five or six thousand yuan on this, which was a huge sum in the 1970s.When I was just an apprentice in a factory, I subscribed to more than thirty newspapers.I not only read literary works, but also books on politics, history, philosophy, economy, art, aesthetics, psychology, geography, medicine and even cooking and meteorology to enrich my knowledge in all aspects.I am still grateful to my parents. They never say a word about my expenses in this area. When I ask them for money, they always try their best to satisfy me.They don't know what kind of climate I will become in the future, but they believe that reading and writing are always good things with a simple idea, and they will always be useful in the future.They never blamed me for constantly receiving rejected manuscripts and never seeing me publish a novel, and they seldom even asked. They just silently shared the heavy burden for me in their hearts.Once my father took a draft of my novel and drove to the provincial newspaper in the north of the city by bicycle to hand it over to a familiar editor.My father used to be the captain of the "Worker Propaganda Team" of the provincial newspaper. He wanted to use his acquaintances to "go through the back door" for me. I was very frustrated, and I advised my father not to do this kind of thing in the future. I said that I would definitely publish novels. Seeing how calm and determined I was, my father nodded his head and agreed. Although I have received hundreds of letters I rejected the manuscript, but I never complained to any editor for a word. I always find faults in my novels, and constantly think about how to write a good novel. So far, I admire my tolerance. My tolerance has helped I have two big things to do, one is to study novels better and deeper; the second is to temper my tenacious character. This is of profound significance to my composition and life. In May 1980, I wrote a novel, I sent it to "Beijing Literature", which was well-known in the literary world at that time. After more than a month, I received a letter from "Beijing Literature". I thought it was another rejection letter, so I threw it on the desk. After dinner, I sat down Writing at the desk, I opened the letter and saw that it was a letter from Mr. Fu Yonglin, the editor of the magazine’s novel, saying that my novel should be kept. I was so excited that I burst into tears! After ten years of writing, I wrote more than one million words of novels. Publishing a novel for the first time made me feel that the life of literature is really hard and tiring. Looking at the two piles of drafts and hundreds of rejection letters in the bookcase, I was speechless all night. Being able to publish a novel is very important to me or a literary youth like me. It is very important to the author, and it is an important sign of recognition in the literary world. Manuscripts copied with pens and ballpoint pens are meaningless, and can only be meaningful when they are printed in type, especially when they are published in some prestigious national newspapers. , then the meaning will be even more significant. A few years later, I became an editor of a newspaper. When I edited the literary supplement, I edited and distributed two short poems by a young man serving a prison sentence in Xinjiang. I quickly forgot about it after the bill. One day four years later, this young man brought his new wife to the newspaper office to find me, gave me a big bag of wedding candy, and told me that he was deported to Xinjiang to serve his sentence. Desperate, never thought that the newspaper would publish his poems, so he vowed to be a new man. So today he came to see me with his wife not long after the wedding and expressed his gratitude. It can be seen that editors often save people. I was "Beijing Literature" I saved a life, and I accidentally saved that young man. Since the 1980s, luck came to me, and my novels were published one after another. In the second year, I was absorbed by the Provincial Writers Association I was a member. At that time, I had already recruited workers back to the city to become a worker, and was borrowed by the bureau to work as a substitute for work. "Replacing work with work" was a unique product of that era, that is, you worked as a worker Cadres work but do not enjoy cadre treatment. And if you want to come, you will come, and if you want you to go, you will go. It is a series of slogans: come when you are recruited, you can fight when you come, you can win if you fight, and you can use it That’s how I borrowed from bureaus three times, entered and exited three times, and finally returned to the factory. At that time, newspapers, radio stations and TV stations were recruiting from the society. Two of my colleagues invited me to apply for the job. As a result, my writer’s association membership card and A stack of works of fiction helped meBusy, he was hired by a newspaper, and he was transferred to a state cadre by the provincial personnel department on the grounds that he was self-taught on the grounds that members of the writers association enjoyed the treatment of intellectuals.The whole staff of the newspaper took good care of me, made an exception for me to be rated as a journalist, and funded to send me to Fudan School of Journalism to study for two years.Later I was transferred to a magazine and was promoted to be the director of the editorial department.After living in the United States, because the libraries of famous universities such as Yale and Harvard collected my novels, I met the conditions for outstanding talents in art, and was approved by the Immigration Bureau to obtain a green card.This series of luck is all due to the light of literature. The "stepping stone" of literature has helped me open one closed door after another and solved one problem after another in my life.However, these are not the most important to me. For me, the most important thing is that I want to write a good novel.I will make a lifelong effort and pursuit for this. I hope that I can enjoy a happy ending. If I can’t enjoy it, I have no regrets, because I have already enjoyed the process of working hard and pursuing this happy ending.

The great price I paid for coming to the United States was the separation from my son.He was only nine years old when I left, and now he is fifteen years old, and his height has grown to 1.75 meters. When I saw him again, I felt that I could no longer beat him.If the father can't beat the son, the father's majesty will be reduced by half.The vast Pacific Ocean separates me and my son on both sides, and there are only endless thoughts.I wrote a short poem titled "Missing": Missing/is a needle/passing through a heart that can't beat/passing through/the needle bends in pain/faces red with tears.This is what I wrote about.But it was also clear to me that the separation had become a fact, and crying and screaming would not help.So I often wrote letters to my son, talking about my experience in the United States and discussing various issues.Since my son was young, I have consciously regarded him as a friend, talked with him on an equal footing, discussed and discussed various things, and at most guided or induced him.I rarely reprimand him, let alone beat him.I am firmly opposed to beating my son, and I am most opposed to a father beating his son in anger. I think it is the incompetence of a father.I remember that I only "slapped" my son once, and that time he was too naughty. After thinking about it calmly, I decided to "slap" him.I suddenly became "full of anger", shouted fiercely, and then waved my hand and hit his ass with a "side kick".He yelled in horror, and immediately restrained himself.This not only achieves the role of teaching, but also does not hurt the son's flesh.Although communication by letter is profound, it is far less direct and real than communication by telephone. The voice makes the distance disappear, and the voice is so kind that I feel that my son is right in front of me, and the sound of breathing makes me feel close to my son's heart.So I often call my son, even if there is nothing to do, even if I am greeting, chatting and joking.Many people don't understand my behavior, especially my father, he feels distressed when I call back, and repeatedly asks to hang up on the other end of the phone, so as not to waste money.But I still call, and I know in my heart that in fact, greetings, chatting and joking are the best way to maintain the relationship between my son and me.Once when I was chatting on the phone, I laughed out loud, and my son said on the other end: "I really love to hear your laughter. Why do you laugh so happily? I feel very happy when I hear it." During the phone conversation, I often emphasize to my son in a firm tone: "Son, Dad, I am right behind you. No matter what you encounter, you will always have Dad." No matter how vast, the love chain between our father and son is tightly linked and will never be lost.

My son is amazing and makes me deeply proud and proud to be a father.The son has two valuable qualities, one is his hard work in self-study; the other is his tenacious perseverance.The first point made him study hard, to the point where he couldn't extricate himself, and he would study at his desk again after school.The whole family went to relatives and friends' homes for dinner, but he asked to stay at home to study.That kind of self-consciousness can only make people marvel at his precocity, but his family members often persuade him to rest so as not to be too tired.His son's overall grades are always among the top three in his class and age group, but he still feels that he is not good enough, and always goes forward bravely to win the best.I have repeatedly suggested that he come to the United States to attend middle school. He said that the American middle school curriculum is too low, and it is boring to read. He should finish middle school and university in China before considering coming to the United States for further study.My son's self-confidence and maturity made me intoxicated for a long time.The second point is fully proved from his successful weight loss.Since his son was ten years old, he was getting fatter day by day, and at the age of twelve, he had reached his peak. Putting on a fleece sweater and trousers, he looked like a cute "ball" person.After admiring his cuteness, I suggested him to go on a diet to lose weight.My son said on the other end of the phone: "I love to eat." I said: "I also love to eat. We are out-and-out father and son 'gourmets'." As a father, I can eat paofan Realm, naturally I know the pain of dieting, so that I go further and further on the road of fattening.Therefore, I am also cautious about my son's suggestion of dieting and losing weight, because my son can push my suggestion out of the country with a single sentence.But my son has started to go on a diet and increase his exercise time every day.Every time I call back, I get the triumphant news of my son's weight loss.Not long ago, my friend Xiaoding’s family took my son to Quanzhou, Xiamen, and took a lot of photos and sent them to me.I was really pleasantly surprised that my son has grown into a thin and tall man of more than 1.7 meters.Facing the photo of my son, I secretly made up my mind: "Dear son, Dad, I must follow your example and go on a diet to lose weight." But I was determined to run into trouble during dinner, and I really couldn't resist the temptation of rice.This made me admire my son even more.In letters and telephone exchanges with my son, I often praise him, and I praise him from the bottom of my heart.I feel that a father's praise of his son has a special impetus.The son calmly said that he had not done enough and needed to work harder.But I could feel he was clearly inspired.My son sometimes compliments me as a father, which is a great reward for me.Sometimes our father and son would say to each other on the phone: "Son, Dad is so proud of you!" The son also said: "Dad, I am so proud of you!"This kind of mutual praise and even flattery between father and son may seem quite nasty to a third party.My father couldn't understand it. He thought that the relationship between father and son was so ambiguous, and the father's majesty would be damaged, which was not conducive to educating his son, and it would easily make him proud and complacent if he praised his son like this.During a phone conversation, my father once sternly asked me to stop this practice.

My father looks exactly like the "Li Xiangyang" in the movie, with a Chinese character face and strong facial features full of majesty.My father loves us very much, but he put all his love into majesty, deliberately being a strict father, he thinks only in this way can he be like a father.From childhood to adulthood, my father always spoke to us in an imperative manner, and there was little room for negotiation.When Dad throws a tantrum, we suffer, and the only thing he can do to stay sane during a tantrum is to limit his spanking to the buttocks.I was beaten many times when I was young, and the feeling of being beaten was very bad. First, it hurt my self-esteem;If you can be lucky enough to avoid the pain of flesh and blood, then a sharp reprimand is absolutely unavoidable.Father's voice was like a torrent of bells, and his reprimands were like overwhelming mountains. Even if you have thousands of reasons, it's hard to argue against it.My father usually talks to us very seriously, and then gives us some instructions. He never jokes with us, doesn't make jokes with us, let alone express affection to us.When I write a letter to my son, it is natural to write "Dear Son" at the beginning, and then I will write "Daddy hugs you tightly" and other sweet words at the end.But I would never write like this to my father, because it would feel very awkward to write like this, so I can only call him "Dad" calmly.My father also laughed at us, but I always felt that his laughter was very blunt.The father is the same with his two grandsons. He usually reprimands them in a serious manner, and the grandsons are used to his reprimands. Sometimes he wants to make out with them, but when he greets them with a smile, the grandchildren run away in fright.As the head of the family, my father practiced the "one-word hall" and patriarchal system at home, so when family members communicated with him, it was difficult for them to state their opinions calmly. They often reprimanded and argued, and the atmosphere was always full of gunpowder.When we became adults, the reprimands from our father naturally decreased, and gradually evolved into another form of conversation, using interrogative sentences to express each other, and sometimes the whole conversation turned out to be all interrogative sentences: "Are you still awake? "What am I doing when I get up?" "Can't you exercise?" The dialogue that cares about the content has become a burden because of the form of the dialogue.Because I write novels, I naturally pay special attention to various types of dialogue forms between characters.But over time, I found that this kind of situation is not only in my family, but also in the work units in the society, and people's hearts seem to become impetuous.I decided to start with me and change this situation.So when I had a conversation with my son, I paid great attention to listening to his statement, and I praised his son for his reasoning.I also stated my opinion to him in an equal tone, and then asked him to make a final decision, never imposing my opinion on him.When our father and son had conversations, we not only respected each other equally, but also used humor, so every time we finished talking, we were always full of joy, especially after we were separated on both sides of the Pacific Ocean.Our call was more sunny and hopeful.At the turn of the millennium in 2000, I called my son on the other side of China from the United States. I said, "Dear son, you are now my 'Lao Tzu'." My son was a little surprised: "Why am I your 'Lao Tzu'? I am your son." I said, "You are my 'Lao Tzu'. Because China entered the year 2000 thirteen hours earlier than the United States, you now I'm 1015 years old, and I'm only forty-four years old. You're my old 'Lao Tzu' and more than that." The son giggled over there.我说：“你现在行使'老子'的职权吧，怎么指导我教训我臭骂我甚至隔着太平洋打我都行。”儿子说：“那我也像爷爷当年那样，打你屁股两下，啪！左边一下，啪！右边一下。”我顿时“惨叫”两声，儿子哈哈大笑一阵，没有再滥用“职权”。我在跟儿子的愉快交流过程中，渐渐感觉到儿子的成长，分享到儿子的成熟。后来儿子开始关心我的身体，每次在电话中，总要询问：“老爸，你最近身体怎么样？”有一次他看到我的照片后在电话里说：“老爸，你还是很胖啊！听说你高血压很厉害，你自己一定要，一定要当心身体！”儿子居然教训起我这个当父亲的，儿子教训老子！可是我突然感到被儿子教训很幸福。老子教训儿子，儿子教训老子，老子教训儿子，儿子教训老子，历史好像就是这么走过来的。

来美国淘金一般要经过三个“五年计划”，第一个“五年计划”，站稳脚跟；第二个“五年计划”，谋求发展；第三个“五年计划”，溶入主流。我到美国已经第六个年头，基本完成了第一个“五年计划”，站稳了脚跟。五年前飞来美国，是我人生中一个重要转折点，我离乡别国，从地球的那一头跑到地球的这一头，从东方世界跑到西方世界，从发展中的社会主义国家跑到发达的资本主义国家，我的命运情感尊严思维兴趣关系交往表达甚至食欲等等，都发生了撞击摩擦磨合冶炼膨胀转向，我像被推上一个转盘，经过飞速的旋转之后，又被推下转盘，我顿时迷失了。渐渐我又清楚了，清楚之后又模糊了，模糊之后又清楚了。一天又一天的日子，我就是在这种清楚和模糊的交替中度过。我怀疑我是不是中风了！我搞不懂我为什么来美国？也回忆不起来我是怎么到美国的？才五年前的事就已经消失了线条，变成了糊状，很清楚的事变成了很模糊的问题。在许多个夜晚，我强迫自己把很模糊的问题还原成很清楚的事。“我为什么来美国？”我强迫自己回答问题。我是为了出来看看外面的世界，可是看完以后我为什么又没有回去？我想改变自己的命运？命运反而改变了我，把我推入生活的底层。我是想改变一下生存的方式？可是在国内生存似乎更适合我。我是为了将来儿子能出来留学而开路搭桥？又显得牵强。那么我出来是为了挣美金一圆淘金梦？为什么又整天忙着中美文学交流？不仅不挣钱，反而心甘情愿贴钱？我没有什么文凭，不懂英语，没有任何优势，又以三十八岁“高龄”飞来美国，为什么？我为什么来美国？而且我在国内有儿子房子位子票子还有乐子，我为什么还要来美国？我不是搞错了吗？我是不是搞错了？我搞不懂，我是不是中风了？中风了才会模糊。但是有时候我又很清楚，不像是中风，而且我也没有什么中风的症状，只是感觉上的模糊，这反而让我感到不安。如果有明确的中风症状，医生可以下药，还有希望医治。我父亲经过打针吃药，目前已经日渐好转就是明证。如果没有中风症状却有中风后果，那才是真正要命。那会不会是精神中风？我不知道有没有“精神中风”这一说，我搞不懂。这就更令人感到恐惧！我强迫自己对一件具体的往事作出清楚的回忆，以证实我是否精神中风。我是怎么来美国的？我闭上眼睛，打开记忆的黑幕。我记得是五年前的冬天，一个阳光灿烂的日子，是在上午，我老弟送我到福州南郊的一个机场。我没有让我儿子来送行，因为那样会出现父子离别的伤感场景，将会一辈子敲打我和儿子的记忆。我把离别淡化处理，在十几天前就告诉儿子我要去美国，但是哪一天走我却没有说。我那几天照常与儿子来往，我还给他买了一辆新款自行车，临走前一天晚上，我还带他坐着轿车在城里转了一圈，我仍然没有流露离别之意。到了美国以后，我才打电话告诉他，我说：“儿子，我现在在美国，在你脚下的那一头。”儿子惊奇的说：“那我钻个洞就可以到你那里啦？”然后我们嘻嘻哈哈一阵，好像做儿戏一样。但是随后，那种离别愁绪就开始漫延。我到今天都在怀疑这样做是否好，会不会反而起副作用，好像父子之间的关系太随便，没有什么骨肉联系，可拆可离无所谓。我搞不懂。我再回忆，我那天乘坐的是从上海飞来的东方航空公司的麦道飞机飞往香港的，飞机沿着台湾海峡的福建沿海一侧飞往香港，我在香港点了一个顿号，又乘台湾中华航空公司的747飞机飞往台湾，飞机沿着台湾海峡的台湾沿海一侧飞往台北。为什么又往回飞呢？为什么不从福州直接飞越台湾海峡到台北而非要拐一个大角去香港点一个顿号呢？听一个写小说的人说，台湾海峡中间有一块顶天立地的透明玻璃墙。说的有点娇情，但是好像说的也是那么一回事，所以飞机直飞不过去，要拐到香港然后再飞回台北。为什么人们会设置一些人为的障碍呢？在台北又点了一个顿号之后，我又乘同一家航空公司的另一架747飞机，飞越太平洋。十几个小时之后，我就飞到太平洋彼岸，飞到地球的另一头，飞到另一个国家和另一个世界。飞机停在纽约的肯尼迪国际机场，肯尼迪国际机场与我原先想像的完全不同。怎么个完全不同？还没有等我去比较，我已经发现我少了一件行李箱。我一共带了四件行李箱，可是我从复式旋转带上只取到三件行李箱，我反复找都没有找到另一件行李箱。我当时是无比愤怒！心想这显然是超级大国给我的下马威，但是要知道中国人是不好惹的。我冲到三个站在一边的美国人跟前，用我仅知道的几句英语，严正责问：“I（我），箱子，有，One（1）、Two（2）、Three（3）、Four（4），现在，只有One（l）、Two（2）、Three（3）。”我中文英语加上连比带划，那三个老美猜都猜出来了，但是他们只是耸耸肩。我觉得他们是在装疯卖傻，又重复的说了一遍，其中一个黑人指引我找到华航办事人员，才解决了问题。到底是黑人兄弟，关键时候帮了忙。从此我开始在异国他乡生活，语言障碍和文化休克使我体会到人和家园的骨肉关系。我为什么离开原先生活的东方世界而来到陌生的西方世界？我搞不懂。但是我乘坐十几个小时的飞机，就从地球的那一头跑到地球的这一头，使我感到地球并不是我原先想像的那么无限大，那么走不到尽头。特别当我在高空中，透过机舱窗口遥望深邃的宇宙的时候，我更感到地球的有限，好像一个句号。我凝视着无限的宇宙，那一刻周围异常的宁静，我不停的问，宇宙有没有尽头？尽头的尽头的尽头……又是什么？有科学家解释那是黑洞。一想到没有尽头的黑洞，我就毛骨悚然，还是感到地球的实在，感到国家的安全，感到家园的可爱。这是不是就是人和土地的关系呢？我不知道这样解释有没有牵强附会，我搞不懂，却又想搞懂，所以就有力不从心的困难。我回忆到此，不知道有没有把“我怎么来美国的”这件事回忆清楚。我好像清楚了，好像又模糊，我无法确定自己清楚还是模糊。这是非常要命的，我不得不怀疑我中风了。可是我中风了怎么有时候我又很清楚呢？那么我没有中风。可是我没有中风怎么有时候又那么模糊呢？是不是我在装疯卖傻？好像是好像又不是，我搞不懂。我最终好像也想通了，这世界搞不懂的事太多太多，我又何必苛求自己？我是不是中风了，或者是不是精神中风了？搞不懂也没有什么关系。不管怎么样，我都要活下去，快乐的活下去。我有幸来到这个世界，我就要珍惜每一天，过好每一天，享受每一天。

草于1999年11月25日 改于2000年2月8日 再改于2003年12月23日