Text/Zhang Fuxian Photo/From the Internet
That morning, we were sitting quietly in the classroom taking a Language class. On the playground, the sun is shining, the chrysanthemums are everywhere, the trees are shady, and the flowers are fragrant, which is a good autumn day in autumn. Teacher Wang is explaining to us Fan Zhongyan's "Yueyang Louji": "To Ruochun and Jingming, the waves are not alarming, the sky is light up and down, a million is blue..." Teacher Wang's words were sonorous and powerful, and we were intoxicated in the beautiful scenery of the lake and mountains, and we were intoxicated in a beautiful picture of spring light... At this time, the school's loudspeaker sounded.
"Junior 1 students please pay attention, Junior 1 students please pay attention. This morning's class is temporarily closed, and the classes are asked to organize students to go to the outside of the school to catch the market. Suddenly, the classroom was like a frying pan, and it seemed to stir-fry a pot of soybeans, and the students talked about it. After a long time, everyone finally figured out: several nearby villages wanted to set up a market next to the school, but there were too few people to catch the market, and the old people in the village came up with a "wonderful" idea - to let the students go to the market to gather "popularity".
That's a good idea! If you want to set up a market, you have to go to the villages in the surrounding ten miles and eight townships to do a good job of propaganda, attract businessmen and peasants who buy things to rush to the market, and let a group of children who have no purchasing power to decorate the façade.
And Hugh thinks about it. We rushed out of the classroom, ran and jumped, out of the school gate, and rushed excitedly into the street. Go to market? Or the newly formed bazaar! This was undoubtedly a strong attraction for a group of playful and curious children, and A few boys and I rushed to the front of the line and quickly merged into the sparse crowd of people in the market.
In the market, the people who buy things are nearby villagers, and the goods are also very monotonous, mostly selling rice. They pushed the floor cart, and on the car was a pot of peppery soup, or sweet bean porridge, but we had already eaten breakfast at school, and who would bother to buy a bowl of porridge to drink? Moreover, we are all children in rural areas, most of us are in a difficult situation, and the pocket money given by parents is not very much.
In fact, even the villagers of the nearby villages have no one to eat, they are still very unaccustomed, a little embarrassed. In this way, a pot of porridge can only be pulled home, slowly enjoyed by themselves, and the bean porridge that cannot be drunk has to be fed to the pigs.
Looking at the villagers full of expectations, my heart suddenly flashed a trace of sadness: reform and opening up, they want to develop the village's economy, want to build a farmers' market, let the villagers' pockets bulge. However, in those days when materials were scarce, there was not even a single vegetable seller in the market, let alone clothes, daily necessities, and other industrial products that the people had to make. They lack the money and experience.
In the street market, groups of yellow-skinned, ragged villagers swayed. However, they are also just some meaningless spectators, with the little money on them, eight cents to catch up with the market - they can't do the "cents" (1) thing. They also came to "catch the scene" (2), most of them were from nearby villages, and even very few villagers who were a little farther away.
In this way, every 3rd, 6th, and 9th of the lunar calendar, the school arranges for us to go to the market, and the popularity is quite strong, but those are all virtual, and the students still have to go to class, and they can't always go to the market. After all, the market did not work, the villagers were frustrated in disappointment, and the imaginary market was stillborn.
Among the villagers who rushed to the market, I was most impressed by a woman who sold lotus puffs. It was a middle-aged woman, with a good face, medium, slightly fat, white and pure, quite like my mother's appearance.
"Lotus! Lotus! Fifty cents a piece. The roar was magnetic, full of temptation. A group of children quickly gathered around the scooter, and the children were paying while picking up a large lotus canopy. The woman was busy collecting money and retrieving the change, and a car of lotus puffs was sold out in an instant.
The shrewd woman pulled the scooter with a smile and left the market happily, with countless joys and joys in her eyes, and she was the only beneficiary of the market.
I gently plucked a lotus seed, put it in my mouth, and slowly tasted and chewed. A fresh fragrance is refreshing, and the feeling of the teeth and cheeks is unforgettable.
It was the weekend, and I carefully tucked the rest of the lotus seeds into my bag, and I was going to take it home and give it to my mother. Daddy is gone, and it's not easy for my mother to be alone.
I seemed to see that my mother's mouth was stuffed with fragrant lotus seeds, and she was smiling with satisfaction, happiness and happiness on her face.
Note: (1) dime, refers to a dime, a dime;
(2) Rushing, dialect, refers to rushing.
About author:Zhang Fuxian, formerly known as Zhang Huifeng, is a teacher at Chengwu Bole No.1 Middle School in Shandong Province. He is a contracted writer of original Chinese novels, an editor of Southern Literature, and a columnist of Chinese ginseng, who has written the novella "Auspicious and His Companions", which has millions of words of poetry, prose and novels, which are scattered on various online platforms.
One point number Zhang Huifeng