My uncle has a Tianjin " Feige ", but I have never seen what the new time looks like. My uncle came to my house to visit my grandma and put the bicycle in my yard. My father and uncle were sitting in the room drinking, so I quietly turned the bike with my hands next to the bicycle, turning constantly and violently. The rear wheel rotated rapidly and made a unique sound of the flywheel, as if it was very pleasant.
Network pictures
Grandma saw it with a plate of hot tofu, and she shouted, "Don't waste the car." If it is broken, how can your uncle go home? I didn't look at my grandma, but my hands stopped moving, and I stopped moving there, and I was silent. Later, when I heard grandma's footsteps go away, I quietly pushed the bicycle out the door.
My uncle is a doctor. When my aunt married him, they didn’t have a house and just slept in the trench. Now their family is in a good mood, they have built a new house and bought a bicycle.
Network diagram
Uncle’s special skill is to show people sores. In that era, due to hygiene problems, people often had pustules on a certain part of the body. My uncle’s job is to let go of the pus and apply medicine. He recovered soon. The person who was cured was grateful, so he gave him some small money, and some gave him two bags of cake. My uncle asked for wine when he got the money.
My uncle is very good at seeing sores. He has a sharp knife, and some patients are very brave. When I saw my uncle's knife, I fought. My uncle then curled the knife into his cuffs, pretending to be fine, checking the condition. When you were not mentally prepared, the knife had come forward and you had not reacted yet, the operation had been completed.
Network diagram
uncle's medicine is prepared by himself, two differently. It is also white powder, and it is also yellow powder. The medicinal noodles contain borneol, and the spicy and cool smell of borneol often rushes into our nostrils. There is also a herb called musk. This medicine is expensive and I have never seen it before. I don't know the others. This is a ancestral craft, my uncle has never told us.
Aunt was feeding seventy or eighty fat pigs in the production team. She didn’t have time to see her grandmother, so she ordered her uncle to come often. She brought a bag of cake every time she came. There were no other side foods in that era, just cakes and biscuits. The price of cake is more expensive than that of cookies. After my uncle left, I rushed into the house like a cat, couldn't wait to take one piece into my mouth, and then quickly evacuated it with another piece. Grandma didn't know the inside story, so she scolded the cat sleeping soundly in the sun in front of the window. I was secretly happy. By this time I had finished eating the cake and playing with something else.
Network pictures
After a while, my uncle came again, and the bicycle was placed where I was, and I was still there. They ignored me and just drank alcohol. I will repeat the last gameplay, turning, rotating and brake with my palms. Then push the door out and walk around the street. Later I tried to pedal with my feet, but the bicycle pressed me to the ground mercilessly several times. Later I learned to ride a bicycle with my legs in a very indecent posture, which was to extend my legs to the pedal on the right in the triangle hole under the beam. At that time, bicycles had beams, unlike now, where the beams were bent downwards, making it easy to get on and off the car.
learned to ride a bicycle, and I almost went crazy. As soon as my uncle came, I quietly rode my bicycle out. My uncle had no choice. He looked helpless when he looked at me without saying a word, and then he went to the house with his father to drink. Once I rode my uncle's "flying pigeon" to the market, which is eight miles away from our village. The chain was broken in the middle, and there was no choice but to carry the chain in one hand and push the bicycle in the other, and go home step by step. My uncle was wandering at the door of my house, and he was waiting for his bicycle. The sunset shone on his anxious face, and the father stood aside and kept saying, "Where did this child play?"
■ Text/Excerpted from "Rural Background" (Author: Bai Qingguo Publisher: Huashan Literature and Art Publishing House)
■Editor/Wang Xiao
■Copyright, no reprinting of
may be done without permission
