Mr. Wang Zhangyi is a senior newspaperman in Jingshan, and his experience is legendary. When I was a teenager, I let go of cattle in the Song River, fed pigs, repaired reservoirs, pulled scooters... Later, because of his outstanding literary talent, he was selected to become a professional journalist. After retirement, he continued to work hard and wrote a large number of reminiscence articles. These essays are all about their own real experiences, or vivid and interesting, or profound, which resonate with their contemporaries; after reading them, they have a long time to taste, such as aged wine, which is really beautiful!
There are drunken punches in the world, there are drunken talkers, and seedlings can also be drunk? Rare!
In April and May, the fields are full of spring messages, the aroma of the earth. This is the world of spring, but also the world of "wine", which is intoxicating. However, in the 1960s and 1970s, there was a shortage of alcohol.
At that time, I was working in the production team, because I had been learning from my mother since I was a child, and in the year of the "weak crown", I had initially become an "all-round player" who operated crops, of which the planting of seedlings was still the "men's singles champion" in the team.
I remember the day I opened the Gate in 1968, the weather was really good, the spring breeze was melting, the spring breeze was slight, and the wind and waves in the mirror-like paddy fields were calm, like a virgin to be married, and like the battlefield before the fierce battle, it seemed so quiet.
At noon, when Captain Shao Haitao called for work to go home for dinner, one of my uncles, Wang Mingqingsan, washed the muddy water on his legs with two handfuls, walked up to me, and whispered, Zhang Yi, go to my house to eat, so as not to go home and take the wrong road. I know that Uncle Ming and Qing's family is the closest to this place where the seedlings are planted, his village is called "Hongyuwan", there is only one family of his family, his wife died early, his son Zhang Bin is also a worker and a farmer, working at the Songhe Grain Management Institute, and his daughter Zhang Xiu is farming at home and has not yet married. It's like an independent kingdom.
Uncle Ming's lunch was still quite sumptuous, a large bowl of simmered lettuce, which was dragged out of a kiln jar in the hearth and poured into a bowl, in which a few pieces of bacon were handed over, and there was a circle of grass and wood ash floating on the soup water, like pepper, but the smell was very fragrant. Uncle Ming and Qing also specially boiled a few salted eggs, plus pickled pepper watercress sauce and other common dishes, but also put together "four dishes and one soup". However, what made me salivate the most was that Uncle Ming and Qing brought out two tea cups of wine, one cup was half a kilogram.
At that time, wine was a rare thing, and it was illegal to make wine privately, and if it was known to the cadres, it would be grasped as a "new trend in the class struggle" or a "capitalist tail". Therefore, it is rare to have this blessing, only a little bit in the New Year, a family with a ticket supply to buy a few pounds of wine, or "soil poria" wine, drink cone, brain shell pain, mainly used for hospitality. Guests did not dare to drink too much, and they never knew what it was like to be drunk. Uncle Ming and Qing took full advantage of his geographical conditions far away from the mountain emperor, cut a little out of his rations, and secretly brewed some wine for a busy month.
"Come, we both drank and ate one cup each other. Uncle Ming Qing smiled narrowly. I took a sip of the wine, tasted it, slightly mushy, authentic pure grain wine, and hurriedly said, good wine, good wine! Uncle Ming and Qing saw me drinking with relish, and also praised his wine, and smiled very happily.
Leaving The Ming and Qing Uncle's house, feeling good about himself, the first downfield was planted tens of meters away, and the captain Hai Taoge and the members of the society went down to the field one after another. Gradually, gradually, the effect of alcohol came up. I don't know if I'm spinning, or if the heavens and the earth are spinning. However, my intention to plant seedlings did not waver in the slightest, my left hand grasped the head of the seedling, my right hand was like a dragonfly with water, and when I untied the seedling head, I did not stretch my waist. The paddy field is called "Bending Five Buckets", and it is curved and long, no shorter than the 500-meter runway. I quickly paddled the water in the drunken haze and put green, and after pumping my feet in the muddy water, I threw the men, women and children who had descended the fields in turn in the far front.
At this time, the captain Hai Tao Brother saw him when he hit the straw head on the field and shouted loudly: "Look, Zhang Yi's seedlings are fast and good!" Ah, it is easy not to praise the captain of the people praise. I didn't think my seedling planting technique was doing so well today. No wonder, there is a song in Peking Opera, called "Yang Guifei Drunk", which is said to be exceptionally beautiful after the noble concubine Niangniang is drunk; also, the great poet Li Bai drunkenly chanted poems, which became a beautiful talk for thousands of years; my king was drunk and planted seedlings, maybe it is also a good story. It seems that the combination of labor and wine has revealed a strong artistic conception and a pestering artistic charm. For the first time, I felt the joy of the heavy and hard work day after day, with my mouth facing the loess and turning my back to the sky.
This was the first time in my life that I was drunk in the history of drinking, but the drunken mood was enough for me to reminisce about for a lifetime.
(Wang Zhangyi)