Chapter 11 Kite

In winter in Beijing, there is still snow on the ground, gray and black bare tree branches in the clear sky, and there are one or two kites floating in the distance, which is a kind of surprise and sadness to me. The kite season in my hometown is spring and February. If you hear the rustling sound of wind wheels, you can see a light-ink crab kite or a tender blue centipede kite when you look up.There is also a lonely tile kite, without a wind wheel, and flying very low, looking haggard and pitiful all alone.But at this time, the willows on the ground have already sprouted, and the early mountain peaches have sprouted many buds, echoing the children's decorations in the sky, blending into a gentle spring.Where am I now?All around is still the severe winter, but the long-gone spring of the long-lost hometown is rippling in the sky.

But I have never liked kite flying. Not only do I not love it, but I also hate it, because I think it is something made by worthless children.Contrary to me is my little brother, he was about ten years old at that time, he was very sick and very thin, but he liked kites the most, but he couldn’t afford them, and I didn’t allow them to fly, so he had to open his mouth and stare blankly. Lost in the air, sometimes for as long as half a day.The crab kite in the distance suddenly fell down, and he exclaimed; the entanglement of the two tile kites was untied, and he jumped for joy.All of his things, in my opinion, are laughing stock and despicable.

One day, I suddenly remembered that I hadn't seen him very much for a long time, but I remembered seeing him picking up dry bamboos in the back garden.As if I suddenly realized it, I ran to a hut where few people went to store debris, pushed open the door, and sure enough, I found him in the dusty pile of debris.He was facing the big square stool, and sat on a small stool; then he stood up in panic, lost color and shrank back.Beside the big square stool is the bamboo frame of a butterfly kite, which has not been pasted with paper, and on the stool are a pair of small wind wheels for eyes, which are being decorated with red paper strips and are almost finished.In the satisfaction of uncovering the secret, I was very angry that he hid it from my eyes, and came so painstakingly to steal something for a worthless child.I immediately stretched out my hand and broke one of the butterfly's wing bones, and threw the wind wheel on the ground, crushing it flat.In terms of age and strength, he was no match for me. Of course I won a complete victory, so I walked out proudly, leaving him standing in despair in the hut.What happened to him later, I don't know, and I didn't pay attention.

Yet my punishment finally came, long after we had parted, and I was middle-aged.Unfortunately, I happened to read a foreign book about children, and then I realized that play is the most legitimate behavior for children, and toys are children's angels.Then, the scene of torture and murder of the spirit when I was young, which I hadn't recalled for twenty years, suddenly unfolded in front of my eyes, and my heart seemed to turn into a lead block at the same time, and fell heavily. But the heart doesn't actually fall to the point of severance, it just falls very heavily, falling.

I also know the way to make up for it: give him a kite, agree with him to fly it, persuade him to fly it, and I will fly it with him.We yelled, ran, and laughed—but he already had a beard, like me. I also know that there is another way to make amends: to ask his forgiveness, and wait for him to say, "I don't blame you." Then, my heart must be relaxed, and this is indeed a feasible method.Once, when we met, many stripes of "birth" and hard work had been engraved on our faces, and my heart was very heavy.We gradually began to talk about the old things in our childhood, and I narrated this section, talking about my ignorance in my youth. "I don't blame you at all." I thought, when he was about to say it, I was forgiven immediately, and my heart was relieved from then on.

"Has there ever been such a thing?" He said with a surprised smile, as if he was listening to someone else's story.He can't remember anything. What is there to forgive when there is utter oblivion, when there is no resentment?Forgive me without complaint, just a lie. What more could I ask for?My heart has to be heavy. Now, the spring of my hometown is in the air of this foreign place again, giving me long-gone childhood memories, but also carrying uncontrollable sadness.I might as well hide in the bleak winter, but, it is clear that the severe winter is all around, and it is giving me a very cold and cold air.

January 24, 1925