C12

To be a teacher, one had to be able to endure loneliness and protect poverty. In this profession, it was fated that he would not rise in rank and become rich, nor would he bring glory to his ancestors. Actually, I don't like this job. I only do it to earn a living.

When I was young, I wasn't a studious person. It was my mother who taught me that I could only change myself when I studied. At that time, I didn't know what I could change either. Since teaching, I had gone to work every morning in the morning, and at night I had gone home with the sunset, and lived my days in the ordinary light of day, which, though the most true, was so true that from the age of twenty-eight I had been able to foresee life at the age of eighty-two. However, since he had made the wrong choice, he might as well do as he was told.

I often think of when I was a child and my mother dragged me to school. In my mother's heart, the school is so sacred." My mother, who had never read a book and didn't even know her own name, understood the suffering of illiterate people. She didn't want me to repeat her story from yesterday. As I grew older, my mother's memory and reflexes became worse, but she remembered our childhood so well, even when I was born. I was born at six o'clock in the morning, because the cable on the wall announced the time. Under the eaves by the window, a few sparrows were chirping, and my mother's skinny old sow was starved to the arch. Nana had boiled a big pot of boiling water in the outer kitchen, and from time to time she leaned against the door and looked inside. The steam from the pot made the roof fall off. [My milk, sitting beside my mother, is flipping through an old book. It says that I am not allowed to touch the earth or travel on the day I was born. However, I was born in this book …] Sometimes I wondered why my mother remembered things so long ago, and when I thought about it, I understood that memories tended to be fond of suffering rather than happy times. His days were tough, so he felt that it was too long and his memories were naturally deep. What he could leave behind were all engraved in his memories and worries. A mother has a good memory of her children's childhood, only letting her children understand how important we were to them. I always took time out of class to visit her, and every time I gave her all the money I had in my pocket, but I didn't have much money because my monthly salary at the time was only enough to buy four bags of flour. In 1998, there was a massive flood in the Nenjiang River. There was not a single grain of soil in the house, not even firewood in winter. His father drove a carriage through the mountains to pick up water-soaked stalks of crops. It was during this winter that my father's hair turned white, like dried grass on a roof in the cold wind. I called my half brother and told him about the disaster at home, and he only said a few nonsensical things to me, and a lot of things to say, because I called him from a grocery store on the side of the road, and the shopkeeper was standing next to me, counting up to one yuan a minute, and in the final settlement, the shopkeeper wanted nothing more than to get to the eighth place after the decimal point. That year, when her elder sister married, her mother was determined to get the wedding gift, but she had no other choice. Life was just too difficult. It was with this money that my mother paid for my half-brother's wedding. Unexpectedly, his sense of being a small farmer, in addition to his tainted philistine habits, became completely exposed at this moment. Not only did he not think about his parents' kindness, he even did not return to the village to visit his parents after they had suffered. After that, every time he came to visit his mother, he would go around bragging about himself. That kind of ugly expression really made people snort in disdain. The true virtue is not the ornament, but the manifestation of a good heart. His mother had raised six children, but when she encountered difficulties, she was alone and miserable. To make matters worse, after a few days, the only two horses in the family worth some money were also stolen. My father was calm, and I knew it must have been my father's act. He just didn't want me to see the pain in his heart. Today's society was a society where benefits came first. People were good at observing people's words and emotions in order to adjust the way they interacted with others and follow their personalities. However, there were very few people who observed their parents and experienced the feelings deep within their hearts. Of course, we are in this society. We should always be on our guard and not let our emotions become the object of exploitation. If you don't want to be controlled, you have to control your emotions and disguise yourself when necessary. All in all, a person should be like a spring water, unable to see the bottom of the bottom, to hide the bottom, only then the opponent will be unfathomable, unable to scheme against you. This winter, the only vegetables in the house were the radish and cabbage grown in the garden during the summer. At their parents' table, radish and cabbage linger through the winter. Remember there is a saying in Chinese medicine: winter eat turnip summer eat ginger, do not need doctors prescriptions. This winter, his father ate so many radishes, but also did not live long, the heavy burden of life crushed him. Chinese medicine also has many proverbs: eat radish cabbage, do not attack all diseases. Good people live long, while evil people live short. Wait a minute. Practice has proved that these are all nonsense. Traditional Chinese medicine is vast and profound, yet it is also mysterious. Essence and dregs coexist. Truth and falsehood are the same things that ordinary people like us cannot understand. But we all know that the people who live the most in this society are officials and hooligans, who live long lives. Maybe by the time I'm ninety-eight, I'll have a better idea of it. During the winter, my brother became depressed. He lay on the kang all day long, talking to himself at first, laughing to himself for no apparent reason. Although he was smiling, his face was expressionless. In the end, he did not utter a single word or laugh. Sometimes he would lie on the kang with his eyes on the roof, singing by himself, and the song he often sang would be "Little Girl Under the Lamp," "Under the Lamp, there is a little girl crying …" "My dear, little sister, please don't cry. Where is your home, I will take you back …" He was already like that, yet he still had to send a little girl with a street light home. His heart was still quite kind. "Later on, he found an old Chinese doctor to treat him. The old man with white hair and beard told him that his younger brother's mental disorder was due to amorous thoughts, unfulfilled emotions, depression, anger, stagnation of the liver, continuous burning of the fire, burning of the sputum, confusion of the sputum, disorder of the mind, and perturbation of the behavior …" Old Chinese medicine prescriptions for a drug: Guutuo, South Tianxin, Coptis, bamboo, Bupleurum, Rhubarb, Calamus, Calamus, Yujin, white peony, Glycyrrhiza, Kindling. One dose a day, water fried, divided into two warm clothes, seven days can be improved. But heart disease still needs heart medicine doctor, this heart medicine is the love of the opposite sex, but he is already like this, where to find such heart medicine? One could say that his heart had already died, and that if one could not die from a heart dying, then there was no hope. One could die from a heart dying without hope, but one could not die without hope. From then on, my father used the wine to relieve the depression in his heart, and eventually he drank his liver out. Five years later, his father ended the torture of his illness and left the world forever. The thing his father feared the most in his life was to cause trouble for others. Even under the torture of illness, he persisted in his work and did not think about resting. In the end, with a bloated stomach and labored breathing, he went to a hospital in the countryside and only bought about thirty yuan worth of medicine, but it was of no avail. Later, his sister took him to a hospital in Qiqihar, where the doctor said he was in the late stage of liver cancer and that no medicine could save him. His sister didn't tell him about her illness, only that she would be fine for a while, but his father knew that he wouldn't be able to make it this time. His father had caught a cold when he was young and was on the verge of death, but he had survived. Then came the tuberculosis, and then the horse broke his leg, and his father's life was full of hardships. As he boarded the train out of Qiqihar, his father took one last look at the city and muttered, "The last time I've been to this city in my life!" After saying that, tears began to shine in his eyes. When his father was young, he was a cleaning worker in the city. During the three years of natural disasters, he was so hungry that his eyes were almost popping out. At this moment, he met Han Lao Wei, who was running around everywhere. Old Wai said, "I can eat until I'm full. I eat sticky bean buns everyday." Actually, Han Old Wai was just spouting nonsense. His father thought that it was true and followed him back to their hometown. His mother said that his father's behavior during the past six months had been quite abnormal. He always said that he was greedy and wanted to eat meat. When Mother came to the market, she asked for five yuan a catty of pork, and the pigskin was one yuan a catty, so she carefully took a handkerchief from her pocket, took two pieces from the small pile of coins she had inside, bought two pounds of pigskin, cut them into strips and stewed them with soybeans. When Father finished eating, he wiped his mouth with his hand and said, "Delicious!" When I learned that my father wanted meat, I bought the best pork for him to eat, but my father was no longer able to eat anything. Father looked at me with a yellow face and said, "Don't drink anymore from now on!" All I could do now was prepare for my father.

From the time his father lay in bed until he passed away, only half a month had passed. This half month was his father's time to stop working and rest. After that, he would rest forever. Some people can't rest, just like my father. To him, resting meant giving up, because he still had many things to do, and in his mind, since he had to work while living, he could do what he could and not trouble others. Being alive is common to all of us, but because it is so common, we often ignore its value. How wonderful it was to be alive, to be able to feel the light of the sun, to experience the beauty of the clear moon, and to have many beautiful things. In fact, the point of living is to experience, to enjoy the sweetness and tears that life brings us, and to do what we can to bring out our own value. His father did not know the meaning of nobility. He only knew how to live a frugal life. However, he used the most humble language, the most simple behavior, to explain his life. He was very ordinary, as ordinary as a speck of dust. Even if he were floating in front of everyone's eyes, it would not attract their attention. However, the patience, tolerance, and kindness in his body caused others to look up to him with reverence.

His father had been lying in the poplar forest at the east end of the village, on the ground soaked in his own blood and sweat. The land he had worked on before finally accommodated him, and his father would become one with the land, becoming the mire of spring.

My father in the grave, and my mother on her way to the grave...