Upstream Culture 丨I and Literature 丨Tao Ling: The Truth, Goodness, Beauty and Deeds of Literature

The truth, goodness, beauty, and deeds of literature

Tao Ling

true

I was about twelve. One Sunday, when playing at the home of his classmate Xiaoyun, his father asked, "You and Xiaoyun, which of them has better grades?" ”

"Some of my homework Xiaoyun is better than mine, and some of my homework is better than his." The elders are concerned about learning, of course, I am very serious, after making some comparisons in my heart, I sincerely replied: "He is better at mathematics than me, and my Language is better than him..."

Xiao Yun's father met my father and said, "Your son slipped his head, neither saying that others were bad, nor demeaning everyone." When my father came home and talked about this, I was very unhappy in my heart: I honestly replied, how did it become a "slippery head" in the heart of my classmate's father?

Later, I understood that Xiaoyun's father saw me going to play at home, because he knew my father, as a courtesy to be an elder, he casually asked a question, which was a greeting. According to his logic, I either modestly said that Xiaoyun's grades were better than mine, or boasted that I did not expect a third answer.

In fact, my father did not mean to blame, but I was silent, and he comforted: I believe what you said.

My father's comfort strengthened my lifelong confidence in telling the truth.

good

I grew up listening to the Dragon Gate Array. When I was a child, I listened to the adults, put a night pearl and a copper coin into the tile altar, and spent the night, the altar was full of copper coins. Put what changes. Before each rain, three hundred and sixty-five night pearls would fall from the sky, and those that had not been picked up in half an hour would burrow into the ground.

What a pity! Every time it was about to rain, I stared at the ground of the hospital, hoping that a shining night pearl would suddenly fall from the sky. The aunt covered her chest and said, "It's not just that you can pick it up, you have to put your conscience in it." ”

On that day, the green tiles on the house were beaten to a loud noise, and many white and bright night pearls fell from the sky. I jumped into the yard at once, picked one up, and spread it in the palm of my hand, shiny as big as a pea, and was very excited. But before I could put it in the jar, it suddenly turned into a small droplet. I cried out in grief.

The aunt laughed and said, "That's Xuezi'er." ”

The dream of the night pearl was shattered, "put the conscience in it," I remembered.

beauty

The summer night in the countryside is beautiful, the slight night wind blows, as refreshing as cool water, the rhythmic croaking of frogs is heard from the other side of the weir pond, and from time to time a few shiny fireflies fly on the head.

One night when it was cold, my aunt looked up at the sky, and the moon star was sparse, and said, "The moon can't use your fingers, fingers, and at night it will come down and cut your ears." I was a little incredulous and asked, "Can I cut the door tighter?" ”

The aunt replied, "You see it's very thin and thin, like a big round cake, which can come through the crack in the door." ”

Once, I carried my aunt on my back and quietly pointed to the moon. After the finger, he suddenly got scared, hurriedly hid in the house, covered his ears with his hands, and slipped into the blanket to sleep. The next morning I woke up and touched it with my hand, hey, why is the ear still there? I was secretly glad.

Probably in the winter, I told my aunt about this, and she took me into her arms and laughed...

Many people say that this is a superstitious story, but I think it is very beautiful, and wrote a small essay "Pointing to the Moon", which was published in the inaugural issue of "Middle School Students Literature and Art". In 1991, the fourth volume of chinese in the full-time primary school of nine-year compulsory education, "Reading", was included in "Pointing to the Moon".

Yes

The phone rang, and after I connected it, the person inside carefully asked, "Are you Tao Ling?" "A friend who hasn't heard from me in years has called. She lamented that she was still using this number after all these years. She flipped through old objects, saw my name in a phone book, and tried dialing it.

After the "Southern Tour Speech" that year, I resigned and "went to the sea" and became the "boss". In December 1996, he spent more than seven thousand yuan to buy his first mobile phone, a digital phone starting with 139, which was superior to the analog telephone "Big Brother" that was the status symbol of the "rich man" at that time. In general, the "boss's" mobile phone has two characteristics: the number changes frequently; it is mostly in the shutdown state when the year is closed. The reason for this is self-evident.

I used this number for a full twenty-five years and never turned it off. Because of his calm heart, he patted his chest and declared: As a "construction boss" for twenty-four years, he has never owed a penny to the "migrant workers" (including everyone). Of course, there were also difficult times, I sold the car and the commercial façade, and I never defaulted.

In addition to learning to write, learning to "do" is more important.

Sorrow and joy

On December 26, 1981, the twentieth day after I was seventeen years old, the Wanxian Daily in our region published my first literary work, a five-hundred-word short story, "Winter and Winter." At that time, the mail truck was very slow, and the newspaper of the day was delivered to the readers in our county the next morning. My colleague told me the news that I was guarding my father, who died in the morning, in a temporary spiritual hall set up in the indoor courtyard of the office building of the Yunyang County Bureau of Commerce.

Late at night, I went to my office in the dark, about a kilometer away. I found this "Wanxian Daily" and read it three times from beginning to end. Then fold it and put it in the pocket of your clothes. The next day, the newspaper was burned while waiting for his father's ashes at the crematorium.

The tragic and joyful thing happened to meet on the same day and changed my life as a teenager. But it didn't change the truth, goodness, beauty, and deeds in my life, as well as the literature in my mind.

Forty years later, on June 3, 2021, I was approved to join the Chinese Writers Association.