Chapter 2 02

After leaving ○3 Institute, the "Old Master Hu" first sighed in his letter, and then praised, saying that although I left my major regrettably, and I was a bit "recluse" negative, thank God I finally got out of the fierce and senseless fights. I was freed from it—this is also something to be thankful for... Reading these letters, I was speechless for a while.I think he will never understand me again. It's a pity—it's a pity really.My older brother and mentor should have been his kind, and he should have consciously taken his side.The bright red blood my brother spit out at the end should have splashed on his body, maybe that would make him remember something.I feel even more indignant that he is unconsciously trampling on something, which is the most precious thing in my heart... Also, he thinks that I have retreated and fled-will I?

The age of retreat is over.There was no chance left for me to retreat.I was destined to meet it, to bear it, to bear it all.I said I belonged to a special family, and when I slowly recognized that, I knew what to do.I have only one ending, which is to go up and run to the place where I should go.It's very honorable. I left the noise just to get a better view.Also, I want to lick the pain.I want to sort out my muddy thoughts and chew on the reserves of love and hate.I will cherish every minute of my life. Bai Hui, it's time today. I will have a good talk about your father when I have a chance.

…Lost the opportunity to tell you this in person, it is probably a lifetime of regret.Fortunately, I can still talk about it; and we are all people who have experienced it, so we have another kind of insight and peace.When I was in college, in front of you, I was a burning boy in the mountains, terrified and unable to utter a coherent sentence—especially when my family and my life experience were involved.I just remember my mother's admonition to me when we broke up: never mention your father to others... Because the lilacs were in full bloom that spring, the strong smell made me dizzy all over.In a trance, I forgot my mother's warning.

So retribution ensued. I was born in a small town in Cape Dengzhou.There was a period of abnormal prosperity here in the early years of the Republic of China, relying on a natural good harbor, and maritime trade made it increasingly developed.The people of the small town are well-informed, and they are fortunate enough to meet some very interesting people here from time to time.Those who have been written once or twice in the modern history of China had a few pairs of feet knocking on the streets paved with green bricks in the small town.Some emerging industrial owners and big businessmen have come to this small town to expand their careers.My grandfather's family came earlier, and the locals remember that there was such a prominent family here from the beginning.Their main industry is not here, it is just a comfortable place for them to live.The blue bay, dense forests and white sandy beaches are sunny and sunny for more than half of the year.Moreover, the traffic here is convenient, the atmosphere is civilized, and it is free from the congestion and noise of the metropolis.

The previous generations of my grandfather were all engaged in industrial properties, and there was an official in the Qing Dynasty at the earliest. As the first batch of "gold mine supervisors" appointed by the emperor, he came to the Cape of Dengzhou to "dig the valley".I believe that the "supervisor" was a fat job back then, and the prosperity of the whole family is obviously traceable.Anyway, in the grandfather's generation, no one can tell how much assets they have.My grandfather followed the path of most famous children at that time: studying in a big city, looking for opportunities to study abroad—if it wasn’t for an unexpected marriage, my grandfather would have gone abroad when he was around 20 years old.

He was completely crazy at the time, desperate for his grandmother.The grandmother was just a small maidservant in their house, and they were inseparable, and later they fled from the harbor together.During the years of wandering abroad, my grandfather got acquainted with some revolutionary parties; finally, he followed a Dutch doctor to study medicine and went to Europe.Both parents passed away when they returned, and both grandfather and grandmother returned to this small town.Here is a strategic location, because there is a port, and it is close to the largest gold mine in the country, several political forces gather and compete here.One of the most important things my grandfather did when he came back was to open the first Chinese and Western hospital in the local area and serve as the president himself.

To what extent he was involved in local political disputes, I could not know much from my grandmother and mother.My grandfather was dead when I was born. From his desperate love, I knew that my grandfather was a person with passionate ideals and pursuit of perfection.He could enjoy the inheritance of his ancestors at will and spend his life without any worries.But he would rather let this life be full of ups and downs and thrills than repeat a stale old life.He bravely devoted himself to the era when he only met once, and did what a man should do. Such people often do not die well. A man who burns with hope cannot be afraid of sacrifice.Sacrifice was a constant occurrence for him.

My father grew up with his uncle and grandpa, a bureaucratic businessman.Because the uncle and grandpa have no sons, they attach great importance to their father.But this did not prevent him from becoming a professional revolutionary - he was already a well-known figure in his twenties, and later even served as the deputy political commissar of an army. Later, due to the needs of the struggle, he had to take off his military uniform. My father got acquainted with my grandfather's family before and after he served as the deputy political commissar.My grandmother later said that when he came to the compound, his eyes lit up when he saw the tall and lush magnolia trees.It was a spring... Father frequently traveled between the small town and several other big cities.Now, everything he has done is lost in the dust and smoke of history.His deeds have not been written into textbooks or recorded. I can only learn a little bit from the words of my grandmother and mother, which are kept in my mind for continuous weaving.

About the second year of my father and mother's marriage, my grandfather died.He has been a thorn in the side of the ugly local forces for many years, and the enemy has threatened to "get rid of him" more than once.They knew the weight of their grandfather, and fully understood that to realize their conspiracy, they must eliminate this huge and unshakable existence in the small town. My mother said that it was an autumn afternoon, and the weather was extremely hot and muggy.The whole family didn't take a nap, and walked around restlessly for some reason.My father left for another place, and there were only mother and daughter in the compound, and one or two helpers who were often in the hospital.They seemed to be thinking about something at the same time. "Master" hasn't come back yet—"Master" has gone to a meeting... In the afternoon, soon, the sun was red, as red as blood.A gust of wind made the leaves rustle, like a team of horses galloping past the wall.At this moment, something knocked open the main gate of the compound—everyone saw grandfather's big red horse walking in, but there was no one on the horse!

There was a wet patch on the horse's back. Mother reached out and touched it, and it was red.Grandmother barked at the red horse, and the red horse turned and ran away.The whole family followed closely. The big red horse ran, ran, and ran for a long time, and came to the outskirts of the city, where there was a short pine forest... Grandfather was ambushed there.He lay still, the white sand and layer of pine needles under his body were stained red. This is the death of my grandfather.It was nearly ten years before my birth.That great misfortune, the unimaginable grief, which was completely excluded from my vision, inevitably left a scar in my heart that will never be erased.Because our life has left his mark everywhere—every interesting book I read after I learned to read, if I ask him, is left by him; and those exquisite small utensils, such as a lacquerware, a music box, A western clock is all left by him.It's more of a story. In the dead of night, my grandmother can't help but recall those beautiful or frightening years.My grandfather became a mysterious, handsome, martyred man in my mind.

He did not usher in the liberation of the small town, although he had fought for it all his life.I don't know if this is a blessing for him.The father's experience can give people a little inspiration, because they have walked the same path, and it is not meaningless to use them for cross-reference. The town was liberated in the second year after the grandfather was killed.As the victor, my father accepted flowers from people and was cheered by many people... But he was not intoxicated, and soon put himself into a busier job, and hardly touched the family——Mother said he had completely forgotten himself, It has simply turned into an organ in the body of the revolution.There were so many things to do at that time, his mood was sometimes heavy and sometimes joyful, and his eyes were often shining with moving light. It won't be long before the light goes out.Strangely he had no premonition.Because if a person is burned by ideals and has an unquenchable hope in his heart, then life does not belong to him.He even did something on the eve of liberation - something I'm sure will haunt him for a long time, especially near the end of his life. As I said before, he has been with his uncle and grandpa since he was a child. He used to be a poor boy in the mountains.Uncle Grandpa was a big bureaucrat in the provincial capital, who took him away from the mountains, washed the dirt off his body, sent him to school, and brought him up.Both the old man and his wife had spent a great deal of care on their father's part, and they were his indisputable benefactors.Then the father flew away from them.When the war in the plain area came to a decisive moment, my uncle and grandpa personally planned several major actions, which caused huge losses to the revolutionary forces.It is also a kind of fate. The old man was captured when he returned to his hometown.This was a big event at the time, and my father was ordered to participate in the trial of his uncle and grandpa. The result can be imagined.Uncle Grandpa was executed.According to my mother, the father and son had a conversation on the eve of the execution, and both of them looked calm... In fact, everyone knew that there might be only one person on the entire plain who could save the old man's life, and he was my father.But he didn't do that. This is a man in a special moment: pure and brutal.He loves and hates deeply, to an extreme. But he didn't expect that in the second year after the liberation of the small town, he himself was arrested.This incident alarmed the people of the whole city, because it was so sudden and unexpected.He got involved in a case that will never be cleared up. It is said that this case can explain everything the day it comes to light: the disappearance of revolutionaries one after another in the dark ages, the failure of struggles, the bankruptcy of plans... This is impossible, because Most of the arrests of my father were based on speculation, or a larger conspiracy.Anyway, I believe what my mother said: She thought her father was innocent at the time.A father never betrays.It was his fidelity that brought him to such an end. Since then, our family has entered a period of terror.There is no day of peace in the compound, and some strange people keep pouring in, most of them are people we don't know. The mother cried day and night, and then fell ill again. It was the grandmother who persuaded her, comforted her, and asked the doctor to treat her... Today I think: my grandmother can be said to be the most unfortunate woman in the world. This is her only daughter! My mother told me that what she regretted at the time was that she did not follow other people's advice and left the compound as soon as possible, nor did she move her father's things out.Soon some people arrived in a carriage, and without any explanation, they loaded the cart with the things accumulated by generations.The grandmother ran like crazy, reached out her hand to stop them, saying that it belonged to the husband and you had no right to take it away.The leader sneered and said: What is Mr.? "Sir" is my grandfather, because at that time it was no longer possible to call him "Master".My God, a person who has worked hard all his life and shed the last drop of blood for the liberation of the small town is nothing to the victor.Grandma sat on the square brick floor in the yard without making a sound.She seemed to understand that the winners were the survivors, and it was very easy for them to betray and forget.They can do whatever they want, as long as they have an excuse. Now their excuse is that there is an "enemy" in this compound. This person has just been arrested, so there is a full investigation here... Our family is a person who gave his life, blood, and all his enthusiasm. Poor us until Finally understand: We are not winners. It is impossible to count how many things the carriage pulled away that time.Some say twelve carts were pulled, others say more.Anyway, at that time, I was afraid, angry, and shocked, and couldn't care about other things.All the things were brought to a newly established management committee, most of which were piled up in a big brick house, and some parts may be transferred to other places later. Mom's illness is cured.Strangely enough, she persevered in tougher times.She settled down with her mother and went to see the commander in the city alone.The commander was quite polite to her and listened to her statement patiently.My mother mainly pointed out that her father was a martyr who dedicated himself to the revolution. Since we have won, we should respect him and everything about him.The commander thinks it makes sense, but he also thinks that my father's things (they may be evidence of a crime) cannot be distinguished from my grandfather's things at once, so I put them away together for the time being—the day of returning them is just around the corner. Mom returned with a glimmer of hope. As a result, it took a long time to send back a message, asking someone to claim the item.Both my grandmother and my mother went, and what I got back were some old clothes worn by my grandfather, and old-fashioned furniture that were not very valuable.You must know that my grandfather was very simple back then, and all his savings were spent on the establishment of the new hospital. At that time, medicines and medical equipment were very expensive, and many of them had to be imported directly.Mom said that most of these medicines were secretly transported to the revolutionary team... What is gratifying is that almost all the books have been brought back, which makes my mother happy.She said: "That's when she understood that predators were people who didn't read. I know that my grandfather, my father, and the equally unfortunate "reactionary politician", who is said to be the uncle and grandfather of my soft-hearted father, are all educated. They read non-stop.At that time, I felt that my mother was dividing people into "people who read" and "people who didn't read", not just "good people" and "bad people".It wasn't until I grew up that I realized that there are many ways to divide people, such as "good people" and "vicious people", "simple people" and "complex people", "pure people" and "dirty people". The "human", "the vile", and the "sublime" . . . the divisions are endless. The compound has been uninhabitable since then, especially since there are only a few women left.There are too many smells of the past, and the distressing nostalgia and memories bite people's hearts day and night.Grandmother and mother are thinking about how to get out of here. This was obviously a very painful decision. Soon, new instructions came from above, saying that part of the compound, actually two-thirds of the house, would be confiscated (or requisitioned).From a practical point of view, the population was now so pitifully small that there was no need for so many houses; but that was just another question.Looting for no reason, and dealing with the legacy of such an old man, is infuriating.Mom stepped forward again this time. After repeated negotiations with my mother, the relevant agency officially answered us that this is only a temporary "expropriation" and its ownership still belongs to us-"Why do you want so many houses? Now you have won..." The person who answered my mother's question officially After announcing the decision, he asked again in such a puzzled manner. Mom was speechless.Yes, what do you need so many houses for?That is useless indeed.As for saying "victory", my mother quite disagreed, so she said casually: "You are the ones who won, we didn't..." Yes, we were excluded from victory from the start.It seems that history keeps showing: Some people just give everything, including their lives, just for victory; but victory has nothing to do with them.How strange this is, and how strange it is that I still struggle with it. Our whole family was driven into the few remaining houses; in order to make a difference, they built a wall between the houses, and the original small corner door in the backyard became the gate of our family.A new era has begun. Not long after my father was arrested, those people who lived in our house left one after another.Strictly speaking, they were not servants before that.Because the grandfather does not allow the division of master and servant.The first thing he did after presiding over the affairs of the compound was to distribute coins and things to them, so that they could each have their own life.Later, only two people remained: one was the aunt of the family, and the other was the orphan girl rescued by the grandfather.None of them have a home.The murder of the grandfather made the grandmother and mother miserable, but the aunt of the family suffered the fatal blow.She said, "I'm going with my husband," and committed suicide by taking poison a few days later. This aunt is called Mrs. Shu, and of course I have never seen her before.According to my grandmother and mother, she is an extremely gentle and generous woman, kind to the extreme.Her man disappeared in the Northeast from a very early age, and she has been a widow.She was extremely fair, tall, with ink-like hair, and a pair of eyes like two pools of water.When my mother mentioned her, she shed tears, and my grandmother sighed: My sister, life is really hard. It is never wise for two women to stay here for a long time.But they're waiting here for that man—my father. During this period, the rumors became more and more serious, and my mother ran away for a long time about my father's affairs, but finally realized that there was no hope.It is said that my father was taken to a large mountain without trial, and there he served hard labor.Mother went to visit once, but did not see her. Harassment of all kinds keeps popping up.A compound that has survived two catastrophes will never enjoy peace again.Mother began to look for a place where she could stay quietly and wait for my father.At that time, my mother was still very young, and my grandmother was already in her seventies.She had to serve her mother, to wait.There was a moment when my mother went blind—with so much horror in her voice when she told me later.She said that the doctor had come to see her, and she said she was suffering from "huomeng", that is to say, her eyes were covered by something because of a rush of urgency.Then she knew that a new disaster had come.I don't know how much time it took and how many medicines she took, but her eyes finally saw light again.She was moved to tears.The grandmother said with tears: "My daughter, my man, and our family have never done anything bad. The gods will bless my child's eyes." Today I think: If my mother's eyes could never recover at that time, what a terrible thing it would be!Whose eyes in the world are brighter and more beautiful than mother's eyes? I say this not because she is my mother, but because I know her best.My mother's eyesight has recovered. This is the greatest happiness I cherish in my life, and it is also the luck of our family's misfortune. Since then, she has deliberately protected her eyes, because she wants to use them to look at the future road: her man will return on this road, and then walk on the unknown road... During this time, she learned about the whereabouts of the servant beside her grandfather a long time ago.That man was tall and thin, and he was the most loyal servant back then. He was left over from the previous generation, and he was only one year younger than his grandfather.Back then he kept calling "Master" and refused to leave no matter what.His grandfather gave him a lot of money and forced him to support himself.He left the compound crying.Later, he went to a wilderness, plowed the land, ran an orchard, built a small hut, and lived there alone.When his mother struggled to find him, he knelt down as soon as he saw his mother, and her mother quickly pulled him up.He inquired about the master, inquired about the family, and then rolled on the ground crying... He said, I really shouldn't leave the master! He mistakenly thought that if he was with his master, the master would not be in danger. Since then, the mother and daughter have lived in the hut in the wilderness for more than half of the time.It is tens of kilometers away from the small town.When they were in the small town, they cut off contact with their neighbors, and others were afraid of getting involved, so they avoided these two unclean and ominous people.When we came to the wilderness, my mother was worried that the man would suddenly come back and find no home, how sad he would be—his woman didn’t wait for him!Because of this worry, my mother returned to the city. She waited with difficulty. About five years later, my father returned.Later, I was born.However, before I could remember my father's appearance, my father left again. This time my father was escorted to a water conservancy construction site, where there were also many mountains.This time it was said to be "exit", but in fact it was the second time he was imprisoned, because he was not allowed to visit his home, nor was he allowed to live in his family. Not long after my father left, our real migration began.Mother hired a carriage and pulled all the things that could be moved to the wilderness hut... We have since lived in this sparsely populated place, very close to the sea; and we have begun a life that is very different from previous generations.From then on, the mother and grandmother began to wait for the second time. I grew up slowly.I also started waiting.I imagined what my father would look like, and kept asking about the past, the past, and those mysterious legends about our family... At this time, some new villages gradually appeared on the wasteland, as well as a state-run gardening farm and forest farm.I get it: every inch of ground will eventually find its owner. Those villages were not far from us, and the small orchards around our little hut belonged to the gardening field.We ourselves were only allowed to keep a small piece of land, a few trees.And it turned out that the surrounding land and trees were reclaimed and planted by the grandfather—the servant of the grandfather by himself! We began a very difficult and strange life.My mother went to work as a part-time gardener to support my grandmother and me.I spend more time with my grandmother and listen to her telling various stories.All the chores and heavy work at home are almost done by the grandfather.He worked on and on without saying a word.I found that he was surprisingly reserved in front of his grandmother and mother. He always lowered his head slightly and lowered his hands when he spoke.His mother called him "uncle", and he was a little flustered.In autumn, he carried some fruits outside to exchange for some grain; the weather was getting colder: he collected dry firewood in the miscellaneous woods, and sometimes dug out the stumps of big trees and chopped them for firewood. I remember that my mother would sit around the small kang table with my grandmother every winter to draw flowers on the days when the land was covered by heavy snow.To this day, those gorgeous and fresh colors, images of various flowers, birds and birds still appear in front of my eyes.The dish containing the colors was also brought from the city. There are many grids on it, and each grid is a color.It was cold, and there was a big brazier on the table, which burned charcoal made by my grandfather after autumn. It is very interesting to watch the old man make charcoal every late autumn.He dug a fire pit first, and then put the split wood on it to burn in batches—he kept his eyes on the red charcoal fire, took it out when the time came, and buried it in the soil on one side without stopping.The charcoal burned in this way is neither old nor tender, durable and does not generate smoke.Grandma said that when we were in the compound, we had to prepare a lot of charcoal every year.The best charcoal is of course made by the old man. He was still young, ingenious, and learned everything without saying a word.The old grandpa came and went in and out of the small hut, which easily reminded my grandmother and mother of the long ago.What kind of era was that, the world at that time was so strange and magical to me.War, assassination, smuggling, arms, rescue... It all seemed to be written out of a legend; to my disbelief, my predecessors were in it. My world at this time has entered another kind of strangeness and richness.For example, if I escape into the woods alone, I will immediately become intoxicated.This boundless wilderness, the wilderness that has given me the comfort and longing for my whole life, really had everything I needed at that time.All the gratitude and curiosity are born from it.Spring, summer, autumn and winter, all seasons are festivals for me.I can stare at how spring comes step by step, and I can distinguish its footsteps exactly.It will make a sound when it steps on the accumulated snow powder and cool sand.Sometimes it kicks over a dry leaf, and the dry leaf slides and rolls on the ground, which amazes me.If I wake up at night, I just smile and close my eyes, imagining how it crept across the fields.Spring is a tangible and invisible creature, approaching quietly and hesitantly.Although this creature is incredibly meticulous, sometimes it can't help but be reckless, for example, when it wants to cross a river that has just started to melt, it crushes the river ice with a loud rattle... The moment when the clumps of sandy river willows sprout leaf buds and grow small fluffy pompoms, no one will be indifferent after seeing it.At that time, there was a smell of fresh celery leaves in the air, and the little warblers as big as thumbs were attracted by this smell.They dance carefully among the willow branches, making some inimitable tiny sounds.Big and big colorful butterflies are dancing, followed by bees: big ones, small ones, yellow ones, black ones, and even red ones.A kind of bee that is as shy as a girl and has a slender waist is very careful every time it lands on the branches and leaves. The weight of my gaze makes it always want to stay and go...Sand bugs, small grasshoppers, all One after another, spring came in full swing. I walked up and down alone in the spring wilderness, joy and depression alternately emerged in my heart.In order to feel the warm sand, I took off my shoes and lifted my feet into the sand, walking up and down.There was no noise, no other shadows.Sometimes I step on a high sandy hill and look to the south - the blue mountain shadows beat in the water vapor, as if they have life and pulse.How beautiful that mountain is, just like the fairy tales my mother read to me at night.Would it have tortured one man so cruelly—my father? My father is said to be in this mountain far away. I don't remember what my father looked like, he walked away when I was a little over a year old. In countless times of missing, my father was imagined by me as a giant, digging stones day and night.When this giant is unleashed, everything will be new for us here.At that time, my longing was like the surging tide in the north, one wave higher than the other, and there was a puffing sound on the shore of my heart. Spring is spent in imagination and longing.Every thought is interrupted by the shouts of grandpa or grandma.What they are most worried about is me - there are no wild wolves or other ferocious animals in the wilderness at this time, so what are they afraid of?There was always panic in their shouts, which amused me. But I dared not delay, and ran quickly from my hiding place to them. In summer I go to the beach to watch fishermen.It was from a nearby village. They cast a large net in the sea, and then formed two long lines at both ends, yelling to pull the large net up.I have to look at the online landing every time, although this is often a long process.When the arc of the net drifter gets shorter and shorter, the surface of the water it surrounds boils.I even heard the cries of the fish, squeaking and screaming, all screaming for survival.Sometimes they jump suddenly, a white light flashes in mid-air, and then fall into the water with a snap.It tried to jump out of the seine, although it didn't succeed, but how heroic it was, it still had to fight hard in the end-I think if I were a fish, I would probably do the same at this time! Large pieces of fish were surrounded by large nets to the sandy shore.I will never forget the moment they left the water for the rest of my life.They were all terrified, twisting, shouting, and biting each other on the catch.I was taken aback by some unknown, never-before-seen aquariums, they looked so weird.That's when I recognized squid, jellyfish... The people pulling the nets were all naked—the nakedness of adults left me dumbfounded.At that time, when I thought that I would grow into such a rough and ugly appearance in the future, I felt terrible in my heart.Standing by the sea for a long time, the result was that his body was quickly roasted red by the sand and the sun, causing bursts of burning pain. Fire-like summer, I feel that the whole field is breathing green flames.The long grasses and reeds are blown by the wind, and the vines that break the bowl are slowly burning in the lower places.I dare not step on the white sand with bare feet, and cicadas cry all night long.At night, my grandmother called my mother, grandfather and me to find a piece of white sand to lie down with dried wormwood and straw.Overhead is a big tree, and stars are shining through the gaps in the tree.The wind blew slightly, and the singing of small insects blew over.The old man was lying down under a tree in the distance, and he lit the dried mugwort leaves for us.This way the mosquitoes avoid us. I pestered my grandmother to tell stories until I was sleepy and fell asleep with my eyes closed.When I woke up, I was the only one left, with the faint morning sun imprinted on my face, itching. Maybe he was afraid that I would be lonely, so when the grandfather left, he took the dog to my side and tied the chain to the tree stump.It looked at me waking up sadly, rolled its tongue, and started yawning again.Its timetable is different from that of human beings. For it, daytime is the time to sleep. I can't forget this dog.Its name is Daqing, heroic and handsome.It has the blue eyes of a foreigner: the face is longer, which is the same as all dogs; its nose is so hard that I often tap it with my fingers.Sometimes when we are together and there is no one else, there is a terrible, violent passion in me-I can't help it, and I just pull its face hard, so that our faces are pressed together.It doesn't move, it knows this is an important moment for us all.For a long time, I waited for something in my heart to pass... Later, we looked up together.It stared at me for a while, and turned away happily and embarrassedly. Daqing's silence left an unforgettable impression on me.When I close my eyes, I can still think of its silent expression.Its amorous eyes look south--does it see the blue hills?When it turned its face again, it lowered its head, thoughtful.Its heavy heart can often infect me and let me walk into silence with it.At that time, I looked at the back of its head and often thought: what is it thinking about?Does it have a very bad past?Is its long worry tormenting it?At that time, I vowed to love and defend it forever, whoever dares to bully it, then well, I will fight him desperately...