Time: 2009-3-311:35:56 Words: 3271
In the 1970s and 1980s, the mountain people here used their family power to determine their status in the village. Fighting for power depended on the strength of the number of people. The prestige of the powerful family in the village would tilt accordingly. The number of people meant that they had the right to speak in the village. The strong preyed on the weak and bullied the weak to fight for the mountain. A single family with a single surname had to grow on barren land, and they had to bow down to the big family name. Everything was for survival, for the needs of survival, for a weak foothold. In order to show the unquestionable dignity of the family in the field, fists were the most effective way to resolve all disputes. Ignorance and prejudice were born in the poor and backward old mountains far away from modern civilization, which was also one of the reasons why the preference for sons and daughters was rampant in the poor mountainous areas. Endless battles prompted people to give birth. There was no happiness of having more children and wealth here, and it was difficult to see the perfect ending of children being noble and mother being honored. There was only the supreme and fearless satisfaction of having a lot of children and grandchildren. The women in the mountains did their best to fulfill their responsibilities, to protect their men and their family's mission of bringing honor to their ancestors.
With the development of society and the progress of civilization, the new wind of reform and opening up blew across the north and south of the country. This spring breeze also blew into this closed and backward mountain tribe without exception, waking up the people's ignorant and single thinking that had been sleeping for a hundred years. It also brought exciting and curious news from the outside world. The outside world was even more exciting, shaking the false respect that had been waiting for several lifetimes. The superiority of having many children gradually lost its prestige in the face of the rich material wealth of the weak. With the spread of the law, the people's awareness of self-protection increased. Fists became redundant and weak in the advanced civilization. They lost their former prestige and power. Waving their fists alone could not replace material enjoyment. The sturdy fortress could withstand the invading guns and could not withstand the impact of the new era. The stubborn will instantly shattered and fell into the valley behind the house, passing through the towering mountains and rolling far away. Following a loud and positive call, the narrow vision of the people in the mountains was reversed. The people who woke up smashed the shackles that had been imprisoned on their bodies for many years, shook off the primitive dust on their coarse linen clothes, and washed away their decadent and backward ideas with the spring water that had flowed for thousands of years. They renewed their unchanging beliefs. A heart that had been lost for a hundred years was revived in this century where all things were renewed, the season where all things were revived. The tentacles of his conservative thoughts gradually extended to the outside world, searching for his almost forgotten self and his still beating heart, crossing the impassable boundary set by his ancestors for ten thousand years. The surging tide broke through the seclusion of the secular world and chased after the tide of reform. The tide led the villagers of the mountain village to the forefront of the pursuit of creation. The tide of reform surged with the yearnings that the mountain people dared not expect for generations. The waves were the bright and colorful tomorrow in the dream world of the mountain people. The fragmented feudal ignorance was trampled under the feet of the rushing forward and abandoned in the rolling dust of history. The distant horizon was connected with the sea and the sky.
Thus, the man in the mountains shook off his shoulders and took the first difficult step towards the outside world. He had waited for this step for too long and had thought for centuries. He had to endure the experience and suffering of relying on the heavens to eat and begging for food in the cracks of the rocks. The harsh living environment of the mountain people had trained their strong physiques. Their straightforward character proved that they were not suitable to step into the dizzying world in one step. They could not adapt to the tomorrow full of passionate competition. They were destined to carefully try to enter this unknown space that did not know if it could accept them. The men in the mountains walked out step by step along the road that their ancestors did not dare to walk out of the mountain. The thick calluses on the soles of their feet had worn away the sharp corners of the gravel. They chased and ran all the way. He groped his way forward, his sweat soaking the tomorrow he held tightly in his hands. Yang Wu and the others were the epitome of this group of simple mountain men. In a different, non-specific environment, Zhiyuan was also moving forward in the whirlpool of the rapids like the mountain men. Zhiyuan's progress was not only to pursue his dream, but also to pursue his youth's fantasy and the Jianghu complex. His abandoned studies made him have no way to retreat.
Zhiyuan was also drawing his own yearning in this world full of temptations, using sweat to draw the hope for a better tomorrow. Although this hope often appeared in his illusory world, Zhiyuan was still unwilling to give up his naive and abnormal dream in the face of difficulties and setbacks, because he believed that he had gained a lot from his hard work in reality, and he was slowly correcting the strange idea at first. He had paid a lot, but the price was heavy. He had waited for a long time, but there was no light or heat in the rainy sky that could make him feel warm. He had not waited long enough. If he persevered, there would be a day when the rain would clear up. The dark clouds would slowly disperse, and the sun would eventually care for his lonely position. The kind starlight would secretly sprinkle the most dazzling starlight on his body in the night sky after the rain, illuminating him and reincarnating his lonely figure from the shortest to the longest ten thousand times. Zhiyuan foolishly thought of begging God to let him stay in the darkness before dawn on this warm night, so that his tired body could feel the long night that he had not had for a long time. Looking back at his childhood, the bright moonlight shone on Zhiyuan's body. Zhiyuan was lying lazily on the small bamboo bed under the parasol tree in the courtyard. His mother sat by the bed and shook the cattail leaf fan to drive away the mosquitoes for Zhiyuan. There was a slight breeze in the courtyard that brought a trace of coolness. The big black dog raised its head vigilantly at the gate and watched the toad slowly crawl into the dark corner. Zhiyuan fell asleep. In his sweet dreams, Zhiyuan enjoyed everything that his age should have enjoyed. It was late at night, and there was no noise from chasing, fighting, and hide-and-seek. The surroundings became much quieter. Occasionally, there would be the barking of dogs, and the grasshoppers in the corner would sing tirelessly. The cicadas on the trees had also stopped singing for a day. The temperature in the house had dropped, and it was not as hot and humid as it was in the evening. His mother carefully carried Zhiyuan into the big bed in the house. When she carried Zhiyuan, she called out softly," Little Yuan 'er, let's go back to the house." The mother wanted to carry Zhiyuan's soul into the house. The child, who was sleeping soundly or frightened, had to call his nickname in the original place to let the child's soul return to the body. His mother placed Zhiyuan in her own body and gently covered Zhiyuan's stomach with the only blanket in the house. She was so careful and serious. Her love for her child was always so selfless and great. She didn't need to deliberately modify it. It was always unintentionally revealed. It was a touching feeling that would be remembered for life.
The next morning, Zhiyuan set off again under the instructions of his second uncle and aunt. He did not come back to sleep today. Zhiyuan had not slept well for the past two days, probably because he was in a new environment. Zhiyuan wasn't in the mood to go to the city to play either. Having no money and no good mood would only increase the pressure in his heart. Zhiyuan had never felt relaxed since he dropped out of school for more than two years. The future and the future were a huge mountain in his heart, and it made Zhiyuan feel suffocated. Zhiyuan felt like a wandering child, wandering at the edge of the world, living in a corner that no one cared about. Zhiyuan felt that everything was created by his own rashness and should be borne and faced by himself. After all, the young heart shouldered the burden of adults. Zhiyuan cried weakly, his eyes wide to stop the tears from falling. Zhiyuan twitched and tried to shift his thoughts. He wanted to escape from the encirclement of sadness and stop the invasion of cowardice. Zhiyuan knew that his parents, who were far away in his hometown, had been worrying about him. His head turned white from worry, and his father, who could not fall asleep for a long time, leaned against the headboard and smoked a cheap cigarette. The smoke flickered, like the sparks that Zhiyuan had created when he stumbled along the way. No, it was more like his parents following Zhiyuan's erratic figure. His father took the last puff, and the faint red light reflected his father's tightly knitted brows. His father swallowed the thick smoke. His father needed this short period of anesthesia to relax his tense nerves and spit out his turbid feelings. His mother tossed and turned on the other side of the bed. It was still the same bed. In front of his mother was the place where Zhiyuan had spent more than a thousand days and nights with his head on his arm when he was young. The memory was warm. It was Zhiyuan's peaceful and sleeping smile. His mother seemed to be able to hold Little Yuan in her arms when she reached out her hand. Reality was merciless, longing was cruel, separation was helpless, and it was the long road that forcibly pulled the distance of sight.
Two days of tiredness dragged Zhiyuan down. Zhiyuan braced himself and began a new journey. Along the way, Zhiyuan was no longer in the mood to look at the scenery. They soon arrived at the brick kiln. Zhiyuan carried the simple luggage into the simple brick house next to the kitchen. There were only bed legs made of bricks, covered with wooden planks and a layer of straw fence for covering bricks. Zhiyuan tidied up the spot against the wall and spread the old quilt he brought from his hometown. Even if he stayed, Zhiyuan was reluctant to bring a new quilt out. He did not know what the outcome of this trip would be. He had left the quilt in another country when he ran away a few times. There were no tables or chairs in the room. There was a small platform in the middle of the room that was used as a table. A quilt was still very cold at this time of the year. When she came from her second uncle's house just now, her second aunt asked Zhiyuan to bring a quilt from her house. Zhiyuan refused, saying that he was not afraid of the cold and that spring was coming. Indeed, spring was coming. Zhiyuan did not feel the warmth creeping towards him because of the arrival of spring. Spring was the season to sow hope. The branches were green, the peach blossoms were red, the grass was covered with a brand new coat, and the water in the river was flowing, conveying the message of spring to the distance as if it was telling the words that had been brewing for the entire winter. Zhiyuan was afraid of the arrival of spring. People planted their hopes in spring. Zhiyuan didn't know how he spent the past few springs because he had no hope to plant. He didn't know what his future would be like. In the beautiful season, Zhiyuan stood by the river with willow catkins fluttering, watching the spring pass by. Tomorrow, he would be there, praying and hoping. Zhiyuan remembered that when he was young, he would go to the river in front of the village with his friends every day in spring. He would break off the willow branches that were as thick as chopsticks and play the willow flute. They would compete to see whose flute was louder. In the evening, the village would be filled with the sound of the willow flute. The sound of the willow flute rang in Zhiyuan's heart from childhood to youth.
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