Stories from afar
Author | Liu Qisheng
Suffering is suffering, there are no good memories, I just want to speak for the victims.
Lead by word
16. Epilogue
This morning my wife and I went to visit my eighty-six-year-old aunt, and my mental state was much better than that of a few years ago, and I had some good things to say. I told her many times that I wanted to write out her life experience and let the world know that she was not very happy, and said that "the family is ugly and not publicized." I still resisted her wishes and told these stories to my friends, so that people can now calm down and feel the cruel life in the context of that era, and compare with the current life, more gratitude and cherishing of the present. Prosperity is not easy to come by, and social stability is the greatest well-being of the people.
Originally planned to be written before the festival, because some of the Spring Festival trivia, as well as the study and measurement of some real events, I have visited some living old people who are still alive many times, they are the feelrs of that era, some are still witnesses of the event, and some of the more sensitive places have been polished and some artistic treatment, all for fear of causing some misunderstandings and verbal disputes, and checking some materials and historical records is also what I must do. In both rigor and literature, I have done my best to deal with it. As future generations, I think we have the responsibility to record and pass it on, a generation has a generation of responsibility, a generation has a generation of pioneering and development, a generation has a generation of spirit and responsibility.
In the face of the rapids of the times, each of us is easily wrapped up in the great waves of the times. Just like my great-grandfather's generation, born as a human being, but "fate is like ants", everyone struggles to survive at the bottom of society. A family in Nanyuli (now Guanhu Valley) in our village moved to this hill because they did not have money to participate in raising money to build the polder wall, and were repeatedly robbed by bandits, and the old treasurer was hanged up and tortured to death, but fortunately his son escaped from the back window of the West Wing to survive the story. This story is not told for anything else, but to show that under the pressure of the Dark Ages, everyone lives in terror every day. Living was the greatest theme of that era, and living quietly in the countryside was the greatest ideal.
Turning over the thick history of the Chinese nation, there is always some depressing and suffocating feeling. At every dark moment of the Chinese nation, the Chinese nation is in danger, and it is in danger of almost extinction. Whether it was the "Wuhu Chaohua" period with the "Southern Crossing of the Crown", the "Anshi Rebellion", the "Battle of Yashan" at the end of the Song Dynasty, and the various massacres at the end of the Ming Dynasty (Jiading Three Massacres and Yangzhou Ten Days), the result of this devastating war was that "everyone cannibalizes each other", "white bones are everywhere", "a thousand miles of smokeless atmosphere, and China has no crown". These historical tragedies are always staged. Since the first Opium War in 1840, the Chinese nation has fallen into a hundred years of peril, my grandfather and aunt are the witnesses and witnesses of the end of this "hundred years", their words are my literary enlightenment, a long period of listening and accumulation, I want to write it out, write it down, just like the books we have read, have a simple understanding of history, especially have a general understanding of the difficult conditions of our own ancestors' survival, and trigger myself to have a real respect for our ancestors from the heart.
In my spare time, I have thought hard about the beginning of this article, trivial things are always full of daily life, and it is difficult to really calm down and write a few clumsy articles. I accidentally broke a rib in December last year, and during the recuperation period, I quieted down and thought about my current life. After New Year's Day, I said to my wife that in a few years I would be fifty years old, and when my brain was good, I had to write about my grandfather and aunt, and with their trajectory and background, I reluctantly pulled an article, presented their suffering to us, and let future generations understand the social reality of that time and understand the choices and some things that people made in the context of that era. From the current point of view, it is a little impersonal and contrary to heaven, but everything has really happened and existed, and this is history. History does not repeat, open the history books, everyone will have their own different views. But if we read it carefully, we will see that many things in history are repeated and reincarnated day after day, year after year.
Judging from the Ming Dynasty's Xiuzhi, the village was inhabited before the Ming Dynasty. During the Ming Dynasty, Liu and Wu moved here. Later, the surnames of Yang, Ren, Li, Wu, Jing, Yin, Xu, Zhang, Gao, Jiang, Wang, Qin, Dong, and He moved in one after another. Mountains or those mountains, rivers or that river, generation after generation of villagers here to cultivate the years, following the ancestors of human beings for thousands of years of inherent patterns to go down, on the one hand is the hometown of survival- Yangcheng Village, on the other hand is the heart wants to go out and walk, see the impulse to see the world and agitate the sails of life, so generations of Yangcheng people in their respective life course of their own interpretation of themselves, as well as their own understanding of this society and the corresponding way of behavior, in the collision with society, in the search for mutual compromise, Grow old in his own human life, and finally meet with his predecessors and shake hands with the world to say goodbye.
Stroke the pen like rafters, and the falling words are particularly heavy.
Opening the window, sunlight and air came in through the cracks. Looking up, the tall buildings are one after another, straight to the bottom of the Cloud Gate Mountain, and occasionally the sound of firecrackers comes from a distance, the child has the joy of the child, I have my sorrow.
The daughter wrote her homework under the supervision of her wife, occasionally muttering quietly in protest of her mother's supervision. The son is older, and some things don't need to be interfered with too much, the things are his own.
I turned my gaze back into the distance, over the green mountains, and landed on the Official Guard Mountain of Yangcheng. On the afternoon of the fourth day of junior high school, I once climbed alone from the turret on Guanhu Mountain to the South Ridge. The newly built fire road leads to the depths of the dense forest in the east mountain of Songjiatai Village. I searched for the footprints of my childhood, for the traces of the mountains that my ancestors had stepped on. The lofty mountains in the direction of east, west, south and north are graceful and meandering, like dragons lying in their hometowns, protecting the people of this generation of mountains. The village is in front of or down the mountain, a patch of red tile roofs, and the houses that reflect the hard work of the fathers shine in the sun, and we are back, and we are leaving again. Village after village, like an elderly parent, waiting for the sons and daughters to return to their hometowns in anticipation, and sending away the children who moved into the city in a reluctant way, although they are old, they try their best to exert their residual heat, until they come to the end of their lives, they are returned to the loess, into the rotation of fate.
The cold mountain wind blew away the hot sweat on my forehead, blew off the withered dead leaves on the treetops, blew away the boulders that stood still, and could not blow away the circling of harrier eagles. Its cry, its drumming in the valley, from its cry, I was clearly aware of the power of life, aware of its confrontation with fate, even though it was only itself, although it was lonely. Just like its ancestors, they sought to survive in the harsh environment, and the freedom to find the sky in the hard survival, along with this majestic mountain, are all at its feet. Ancestors have left the gene of fearlessness in its body, and soaring in the sky is the mission of the Eagle Clan, and it is also their best interpretation of the meaning of life.
He rose up and paced in the chamber.
The Guanhu Mountain of the hometown is vivid in the pen, every person who comes out of the mountain is vivid, every story is vivid under the shade of the Guanhu Mountain, and every lingering nostalgia is vivid in the heart...
May God bless me in Huaxia, God bless me to protect the mountains, and God bless my fathers and fellow countrymen.
February 8, 2022
Liu Qisheng, a native of Wujing Yangcheng, a lover of literature, has been a soldier, driven a big car, and now lives in Qingzhou and is engaged in logistics.