Zhou Chengying, member of the Inner Mongolia Autonomous Region CPPCC Committee and director of the Innovation Center of Inner Mongolia Publishing Group
"Reading with One Heart" - "The building is not the material of a single wood; the sea is wide, not the return of the first-class." "Walk in the same direction, gather strength." Work with one heart and one mind to build consensus. Accompanied by books, CPPCC members meditated and precipitated in the night sky.
The CppcC Inner Mongolia Autonomous Region and the Inner Mongolia Radio and Television Station jointly launched a column "One Heart Night Reading", which invites you to swim in the ocean of books every Saturday evening.
This issue of "One Heart Night Reading" Zhou Chengying shared the bibliography "Human World"
"There are books, there are loves, there are dreams"
On the night of the lonely mountain village, when I was a child, I had the luxury of lighting small candles, blowing out oil lamps like beans, and moving to the kang - next to my parents and sisters who were already asleep, I rewarded myself to read a little more "idle books" - writing homework and doing review questions is the right thing, other books are rare, remember a "prose" or the like. It was so pleasant that I read it greedily, not knowing that the candlelight that had been dark was lit again, until the scorched smoke awakened my mother—the burned candle head lit the linoleum cloth spread on the kang. The whole family got up in the middle of the night to put out the fire, and one end of the kang where I was, along with the corner of the mattress, was scorched. The mother took a broom and crushed the mars, soaked her hands in the water piece by piece, and then twisted it down with scissors. I was so frightened that I hid the book in the bed, but fortunately my mother did not recognize that it was an "idle book".
The next day I was worried, thinking that I would be beaten, but my mother only counted a few words, poured the linoleum of the kang into a corner, and the burned piece of paste was changed under the mother's feet, and during the day the quilt was stacked on it, and I couldn't see it. As if it hadn't happened, the linoleum had been used for many years—and then I slowly figured it out, and my illiterate mother still "let" me read.
Later, when I was admitted to college and wanted to leave my hometown, my mother did not listen to my father's plan to ask me to leave school to work to earn money, but took the money from the big lying cabinet at home, took a big step, went to the store to buy cotton, quilt quilts, and neatly packed them in the newly bought camphor wood box and carried them home. In the impression, the mother who has been circling the pot all her life rarely goes against her father's wishes. I wept silently and was grateful to my mother.
Many years later, I organized a high-end pulpit in northern Xinjiang and asked Mr. Liang Xiaosheng to talk about the "temperature of literature", and Mr. Liang Xiaosheng talked about the details of his mother's request for money to buy books when he was a child: the sisters who worked together advised "don't give", and his hard-working mother did not look up and said: I am quite proud of his reading - I burst into tears, and my mother also supported me to read books! Mother is dead! It was the love passed on to me by my mother that inspired me to live hard all the time, and I wanted to try to live like she was pleased.
——Excerpted from the epilogue of Zhou Cheng's English collection "Whispers of Time"
Producer: And Rock
Review: Yue Nan
Editor: Jiani
Reporter: Yuanyuan
Disclaimer: Original manuscript of Inner Mongolia News Broadcast
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