/Fiction is more real than history/
"The Yellow River Flows More Than Just Water"
Author: Zhongzhong
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Man has only one life, and it is impossible to prove a hypothesis by experiment, so he can never know whether it is right or wrong to influence his emotions.
--Milan. Kundera
This is the story of a mother who told her son in a foreign land before she died—history has been distorted, but no one can ignore it, or even cover it up, let alone repeat it because of its compassion. To this end, the son not only resolutely returned to his hometown of Lanzhou with the blonde bride, but also finally made the story public.
China-China on "The Yellow River Flows More Than Just Water"
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[Novella]
| the Yellow River flows not only water |
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Whoever honors me as a master by skill alone should not be ashamed of it. I was puzzled that my mother never mentioned my father, let alone that I had an uncle, but when I was seven years old, this uncle took me away from my mother and raised me, and the scene of my mother hiding her face and crying was twisted into a mystery in my heart, and I was deep in my heart...
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Two
A quarter elbow in workshop 301 leaked. The crack was on the back of the elbow, only about ten centimeters apart from the cement wall columns on both sides of the corner, and the gap was too small to block the line of sight and could not be welded. There were many people at the scene, all dry staring at the white eyes and helpless.
The little technician with glasses in the factory dispatch room pestered me with a dead face, saying that he would stop and change his elbows, and the whole factory would resume production, and it would take three days at the earliest.
On weekdays, when this boy saw me, he always swallowed and spit and was crooked, and people laughed at him for wanting to eat swan meat.
Today, he is pretending to be public and private, and he is righteous and bold. Ahem, scare the milk-eating wetting kids to go! I hated wearing glasses, but I didn't bother to listen to his ramblings, so I crouched down again and stared at the bend repeatedly.
Finally, I finally said that I needed a small mirror. When the guy saw that there was a door, he jumped up and ran like a rabbit to find it.
As I was preparing the tools, a large number of factory leaders also came one after another. Among them, some people came together to understand the situation. I buried my head and wiped my sunglasses repeatedly, unwilling to explain anything.
I leaned the small round mirror I had found against the corner of the wall, and the crack happened to be reflected in the mirror. At this time, he slowly put on his sunglasses, opened his hand to take the welding gun that no one had already handed over, cocked the gun head and waited for the person behind him to take out a lighter to ignite.
After the torch was lit, I gently twisted the knob on the upper end of the handle of the welding gun to adjust the head of the fire, while steadily extending the long muzzle to the corner.
At this point, although I still couldn't see the back of the elbow directly, the flames in the small round mirror had already been aimed at the crack...
We looked at the welding method of combing our hair in the mirror and was surprised by a large stunned.
Within ten minutes, the work was done.
When I got up to retreat, the crowd of onlookers did not disperse for a long time. In particular, the four or five male and female welders in the first-line workshop smirked their hands vigorously, clapped their knees and sighed, and admired them so much that they almost threw themselves to the ground.
At this time, he squeezed through the crowd, picked up the tools, and couldn't help but look up at me. Suddenly, he raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to utter a loud sentence:
"Master-Fu!"
This voice is really frightening. I was shy, but soon I was as reserved as ever, with a disdainful look of "lifting a knife and standing" to solve the cattle, and even the factory leaders who were not far away turned a blind eye.
Whoever honors me as a master by skill alone should not be ashamed of it.
At first, it was because there was an eighth-level welder trained by a Soviet expert in Lanhua that my uncle sent me here to learn the art. At that time, the factory was expanding, aluminum plates, copper pipes, cast iron parts, alloy steel, high-pressure tanks, everything from the hands, almost welded casserole tofu beef noodles.
In this line of work, the master took me across the river more than anyone else walked. It's just that his skin is a bit strange, the more wind and sunburn, but more like the official kiln porcelain bottle in Jingdezhen - white as snow, smooth as jade, too much like a welder.
Many people suspect that I am sharp and slippery, always hiding from the shade. But the smooth welds of the fish scales and the cuts like knives cannot be obtained by playing and hiding. On the contrary, the sun is poisonous, and I don't wear a straw hat myself, and I think that the circle of slits is always clipped to the hair. Besides, if that broken thing is clasped on the head, won't you get rid of a country daughter-in-law on the other side of the river bay!
In the year I was discharged from the army and turned to the right, the state engaged in war preparedness, and the military industrial units dispatched masters. There was no rut in the factory, so I had to be held alive. There are no tigers in the mountains, and monkeys are called kings. Before long, everyone called me the Flower Gun King.
Flowers, is to praise my jade muscle snow skin, human face peach blossoms; Gun, of course, refers to a welding gun to cut a gun; Wang, that is also to say, must be both complimenting me for my outstanding appearance and praising the work of my men that no one can compare with——
However, he called out to me in such a loud voice, no doubt, indeed convinced me. Really, it's the kind of heart-to-heartedness.
He was indifferent on the surface, but he was secretly proud and his heart was full of flowers.
It's just that his name is unpleasant, what is his name - Chao Bass. How come it was the same surname as the man my mother later married, and the next two words were a little foreign?
All day long, being surrounded by such a bad apprentice with a strange name, how can it be a little corrupt.
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China's "female welding flower" [Shougang/Liu Hong] | entered the state-owned large enterprises in the last century, as long as there is a welder position, it is the first choice for female workers with "door road" - clean plus technology
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Somehow, the uncle soon learned that he had become a little master. Before I could go home from the weekend, he made the first move and came to congratulate me. The big and small heads in the factory rushed out, surrounded by him smiling like flowers, scrambling, saying "Minister Zhang" on the left and "Political Commissar Zhang" on the right.
Coming to the factory with such fanfare, uncle this is the first time in the world.
He did not go to the factory building when he got out of the car, but went straight to the first-line production workshops of various branches and wandered around, and unexpectedly jumped to the staff canteen and kindergarten. What was even more strange was that he actually knew that there was a batch of newly recruited young workers, and even asked him in a roundabout way, my apprentice.
Be all abroad!
In fact, the uncle's inspection of the people's sympathy is absolutely done for everyone to see. His real goal, of course, was me—to cheer him up as a budding jewel in the palm of his hand.
However, I was not surprised, but I always carried everyone around my neck. My uncle had long promised me that when I grew up, he would tell me where my mother had gone.
At first, shortly after they left home, their mother moved away. My uncle is a high official, must he know something, otherwise he can say it like that and swear an oath? But now, he has become a disciple in name only, and he has not yet told me the slightest sign.
My uncle saw that I was unhappy and asked the guards to bring the chess pieces in the car and wanted to kill me.
I remember when I was just learning to eat with a spice spoon, my mother taught me to play chess. From the opening of the cannon two and five to the endgame of the nine houses, teach hand in hand. Before each game, it is always indispensable to nag about the anecdotes of Grandpa's love of chess. Since my brother was born, the man's three days and two ends looked for my stubble, causing my mother to worry and frown all day.
When he was almost seven years old, a Platon Army member suddenly came to his home, and he was still an officer with four pockets. He said he was my uncle and had come to pick me up.
The mother trembled with those thin white slender hands, tightly covering her tear-drenched face, and between her fingers were two moth eyebrows that could not help but twitch. That twitching tightened my grip.
Finally, it is twisted into a mystery and sinks into the heart.
In the face of this uncle who fell from the sky, I was puzzled. My mother never mentioned my father, let alone that I had an uncle, and there was a soldier behind my ass. But at that moment, I vaguely felt that I could not leave this home, and I realized that I could only go with this strange and mighty uncle.
I hated the cold man behind my mother, don't look at the pair of deep glasses on the bridge of the collapsed nose, the sesame big little fart thing is trying to avoid the skull's eyebrows behind the lenses. Usually, he always likes to close the door and tease me to his mother. At this moment, the glans was shrunk behind her mother, but she couldn't help but look at the wisp of eyes from under the dirty glasses and peek at her uncle next to her.
It is no wonder that intellectuals are always born with endless criticism and rectification. This yin and yang weird lewdness, who sees it does not want to rush up and incite a few slaps and kicks twice!
A large hand gently wiped the tears from my face, clumsily and carefully, as if afraid of scratching my tender skin, more like fear of rubbing my young heart.
Finally, I was pulled away by this big hand in a nightmare. The gushing waters along the Yellow River are gone forever.
My uncle treated me well, better than someone else's father to his own daughter. Of course, I was secretly glad that I would never provoke him except to stubbornly miss my mother on weekdays. He defaults to being an orphan of his uncle's comrades-in-arms, and defaults to being fostered in his uncle's rural hometown since childhood, tacitly acquiescing to these long-doubted confusions.
However, I never dreamed that it was precisely these helpless and well-behaved acquiescences that not only turned gorgeously, but also miraculously crowned a laurel of martyrs' orphans.
Soon, I was surrounded by red glory, surrounded and cared for. Whether in elementary school, junior high school, high school, or coming to the factory, people around me lamented that I had a good life, and all of them invariably admired me, like looking up at the birds in the blue sky, envying a pampered darling of the times.
I resented the smiling face next to me.
It is this kind of warmth but not kissing, kissing but not close, that has lifted me into the embarrassing situation of "cold in the heights". Although everything is at your fingertips, it is superior in the involuntary, at the mercy of others in the mental-physical septum. Finally, one day, I suddenly understood from the words of "Dream of the Red Chamber" that "yesterday I was pitiful and cold, and now I feel that the purple python is long":
Fate is mostly the sentiment of bystanders in the past of red dust.
It may not have much to do with the happiness or misfortune of the person concerned, but it certainly cannot indicate the future. Unfortunately, among all sentient beings, there is never a shortage of people who pray for blessings and nobles all day long, and complain about the world. In the end, nature will all end up with a "white expanse of the earth is really clean"!
As a result, an inexplicable cynicism began to pervade me. However, over time, I unconsciously got used to this kind of lonely and undeserved character.
The divine aura is the most brilliant shackle.
Only when he missed his mother did he throw his uncle in the face, and once his temper flared up, no matter the time, regardless of the place, he looked at everything and completely ignored it. Of course, even the most impulsive times, I was by no means the little house girl's snort, crying and making a fuss, but with my neck turned back to the whole world, and the nine cows could not be dragged.
Once, it was raining lightly, and I was drenched on the balcony with a pestle, and no one wanted to take a step closer. My uncle was so desperate that he had to tease me:
"Hey—look at this girl... Oh...... Niece, that little white belly neck twisted longer than her mother's—"
I turned around, and without any hesitation about the secretary and guards present, I grabbed my small fist and screamed angrily and chased him all over the room.
From then on, once my uncle found that I was sullen, he would open the chessboard without a word to play a few games with me.
For the first few years, well—what a line he could do. Even if I caught a horse and a cannon, he still lost many battles, lost his armor, and the veteran pushed and grinded.
However, he lost without discouragement, repeatedly lost battles, and over time, he was slightly careless, and he was actually forced to lose his car and send his son to be killed.
My uncle had not yet started a family, and said that he had won my niece, so he went to wear a red ribbon and sticker into the cave room.
At first, I was more competitive and never gave him a chance to win. Later, he seemed to dimly wake up to something, and from time to time he lost it silently and lost one or two sets.
Then, she raised her face and stared directly at him to see how he fulfilled his promise to marry. The uncle was forced to be unavoidable, so he had to plead for forgiveness and say wait.
Sometimes, I complain that he has to wait until the Year of the Monkey. He always pretentiously quoted Simonov's poems:
"Wait until the snow falls / Wait until the heat is hard... People who wait together/are discouraged and lazy – they are all tired..."
Who is my uncle waiting for, and why do you have to wait for such a tragic law?
I had no way of knowing, but I just thought he was really waiting, waiting for a long time.
[To be continued]
Waiting is waiting for a certain moment
Appear or a person?
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[About the Author]
A senior and authoritative Chinese language teacher who has designed Chinese teaching in a number of successful private secondary schools. He still tirelessly studies Chinese teaching at the high school level. He wrote novels on the hardest and darkest days of his life.
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