Sixteen years passed in a blink of an eye. Li Zhuo once wrote a letter from the United States and mentioned that he fished in Yuanmingyuan . He is studying for a PhD. He said that he bought an old "Toyota" very cheaply, and drove the car to travel during the summer vacation, from Chicago to Arizona, and saw the Colorado Grand Canyon. "It's a pity that our brothers are not together." He said. He said that the United States was really good, but he could not forget every second that it belonged to others. He said that after he returned to China, "our brothers will also take a trip and go back to Qingping Bay to have a look." I said don't forget, you won't have a "Toyota" by then.
There are two roads from Beijing to Qingping Bay. One is to take the road in Xi'an, which is easier. Another way is to take Taiyuan, take Jiexiu, then change the car to join the army and cross the Yellow River, rest overnight in Suide, then change the car to Yongping, get off the car and walk on the mountain road for thirty or forty miles. In those years when we were jumping in line, we took this road most of the day. Going south, we could save a few dollars. This road is poorly constructed and maintained. When it rains or snows, the car may not be able to drive in any of the small towns along the way. We spent 30 cents to find a seat on the long kang of the Car and Horse Store, hoping that the weather would clear. Thirty cents was just enough to lie down straight on that long quilt with a blanket on your brows; I originally took this route to save money, but of course I wasn't willing to spend another fifty cents to rent a shiny quilt.
I went back to Qingshuihe last year and took the first road that day.
Several people traveling with me helped me get into the sleeper car with a mop and a strap. It was the first time in my life that I sat on a sleeper berth. Going back to the last time I took a train, I was cutting in line.
Beijing Station There is no Higanbana. It is almost the same as when I went to jump in line sixteen years ago, but the color of the crowd on the platform has changed. At that time, they were all blue, gray, and national defense green. If you saw a little red, it was definitely an armband or a quotation book. Nowadays, shawl hair, jeans, and popular colors are everywhere. After more than ten years, the pace of history is not slow. It would be right to put it another way: more than ten years! Not too slow? Or what counts as slow? I think: History is moving forward at its own pace, no one else is watching.
The train started smoothly again. It seems like just yesterday.
The eyes of the rain gradually opened up. The sound of the train moving in the wilderness seemed weak and light.
Wherever there are lush trees, there is a village.
No one in the village even looked up when they saw the locomotive.
In our place, many wives have never seen a car, let alone a train. There are no cars in Qingping Bay. To see a car, you have to climb two mountain roads dozens of miles away to go to a small town, and the three-inch golden lotus of the wives can't walk. Let's hitch up the donkey cart and make a special trip to see it. They think it's too close, extravagant and wasteful. They have all seen airplanes, they are Hu Zongnan bombers.
Several people in the same industry said that fate is actually unfair. The man who served as a soldier in the Taihang Mountains said that his family hired a seventeen-year-old nanny from rural Anhui. One time he was writing in this room, and occasionally went to that room to find a book. The little nanny was doing a martial arts pose in front of the full-length mirror. He obviously learned it from TV, and he was really good at it. He said he immediately remembered a little girl he met in Taihang Mountain. At that time, they often performed some model plays for the neighboring villagers. He could play the violin twice, and the girl came to pester him, begging her to play the violin twice, "See if I can play loudly." This child was quite clever. When he left Taihang Mountain, the boy's performance was no worse than his own. "It's a pity that I don't have a decent teacher to teach him." He said, "That child, Magistrate Ye, is seventeen or eighteen years old." Then she calculated carefully and said that it was not only seventeen or eighty years old. It had been fifteen years since he left there, and the child should have been married, and maybe he was a mother.
A group of people all lamented: People don’t know where they are placed by fate, and they don’t know why they are placed there.
Then I thought of Mingwa.
