Night Rain 丨 Zhou Chengfang: Letter Time

Letter Time

Zhou Chengfang

When I was in the third grade of elementary school, my two older brothers were admitted to college at the same time. Mothers at home look forward to receiving their letters. Every time the postman sent a letter, the mother would put down her work, carefully open the envelope, spread out the letterhead, and read it carefully word by word, and she would read the letter several times. Relatives came to the house, and she would take it out and read it again. The brothers' letters were nothing more than school matters. Every time they mentioned me in the letter, such as whether my sister was obedient or wished my sister progress in her studies. I imagined how nice it would be if the recipient was directly my name.

When I was in junior high school, I deliberately went to the neighboring town middle school to live and study, so that I could exchange letters with friends and relatives. On the second day of school, I couldn't wait to start picking up my pen. Reluctant to buy special letterhead paper, I wrote to my girlfriend Bing'er on the homework book I just sent: "Dear Bing'er..." I introduced the situation of the new school in the letter, and after writing it, I folded the letter paper into a heart shape and put it into a snow-white envelope, pasted it with an 8-cent stamp, and threw it into the mailbox with great excitement.

One afternoon a few days later, I was sitting in the classroom reading a book when I heard someone call my name loudly: "Zhou Chengfang, the second class of the first grade, there is your letter." I jerked my head up and saw the female teacher in the school mailroom standing in the doorway, holding a pile of letters. Bing Er replied so quickly? I quickly took the letter from her hand and saw that the address was home. My mother asked me in the letter whether I was adapting to the life of the school, and she said that she had inquired, and there were many nutritious dishes in the canteen, so I was reluctant to buy them, and when I did not have enough money, I would write to go home and so on. It was the first letter I had ever received written specifically to me, and I treasured it under my pillow at night, a good night's dream.

Since then, as soon as I have time, I have written letters with a pen to my classmates, brothers, and even aunts who have married thousands of miles away, hoping to find a letter specifically written to "Zhou Chengfang" in the pile of letters in the school mailroom.

The best thing I had in the class was Yun, and we were inseparable every day. As soon as it came to the winter and summer vacations, I asked her to write to me in time. My family has a house number on the street in the town, and Yun lives in a remote village, so it is not so easy to receive letters. To be fair, every time I receive a letter from her, I will write back a letter in time, write it and put it in a small envelope made of white paper, and then use a ballpoint pen to draw 6 spaces in the upper right corner, fill in the postal code, and write her receiving address and name. A glance is no different from a real envelope. When school started, I handed her these sealed letters, which made her very happy.

In the third year of junior high school, I transferred back to my hometown, and as soon as Yun had time, he wrote to me and poured out his thoughts. Bing Er went to the county town to go to high school, and our communication frequency became higher and higher. Once, in a letter to me, she wrote that her heart was even more bitter than Huang Lian's, and I replied that I was also suffering from pain. Over the years, we often joke about these languages. Think about that time we were in the era when teenagers did not know the taste of sorrow, but we wanted to worry about giving new words.

After high school, my classmates began to make penpals, and they often received letters from the ends of the earth, which made me envious. I saw a name called Ouyang Chunxue in the recruit column of middle school student magazine. The first time I heard of such a surname, I was curious. I wrote a letter to her in Qingdao, Shandong, and I don't remember what I wrote, but I quickly received a reply from her. We wrote it one after the other. She told me that there would be a lot of snow in the north in the winter, and I described to her that the summer in the south was hot. She sent me a picture of reading a book on campus, dressed in green and white, with long flowing hair, as pure and beautiful as the name. Later, the letter I wrote to her was returned because "no one was found", and I could no longer be contacted, which made me very sad. It's been almost 30 years, but what happened to the girl who wore a white dress and had long shoulder hair?

Writing letters and reading letters made my middle school life rich and interesting. Once, I met my eldest brother Tong, who had gone to college, outside the school, and in small talk, Brother Tong learned that the girl Xiaohe, whom he knew before, was in the same class as me. When I was leaving, he asked me about the specific class and said that he would write to me at any time in the future, which made me very happy. But then I waited for a long time without seeing him send me a word, but my classmate Xiaohe received his greetings one after another. A few times, after Xiao He received the letter, he specifically said to me, "Hello brother Tong." Hum! I've broken off my friendship with him!" I replied without anger. Xu was found by Tongge's conscience, or perhaps Xiaohe conveyed my dissatisfaction to him, and I soon received a letter from Tongge. He criticized me fiercely in the letter, saying that girls should learn to be gentle, don't get angry without moving, otherwise no one will dare to marry in the future, etc. I unceremoniously replied with three words, "crow's mouth."

In the mid-1990s, I went to college in a city not far from home, and many of my high school classmates went to the coast to work hard. The list on the address book is growing. Every morning after the second class, the secretary of the Youth League Committee in the class would go to the mailbox to get the letter, which was the most exciting moment of my day. Every time I saw him come into the classroom with a bunch of letters, I would stare at him intently, hoping that he would come to me with a letter.

My high school classmate Gu and I corresponded the most, and the words were full of sweet and sour part-time work. Later, he somehow found out Yun's mailing address, and actually wrote a letter to Yun, who was studying in medical school, under the banner of my classmate. During that time, the two of you wrote a letter to me well. After a long time, Yun wrote to me and asked me, that Valley is a boy? Why don't you say a word? I've even talked to girls about their most intimate topics. Mom, too, is ashamed to die, and will not write back to him again. That letter made me laugh for a long time.

There are many interesting things about college life, but my favorite thing is to pass on books with my friends. Although a stamp has risen to 8 cents, the price of a small cabbage in the canteen.

Once, my classmate Ni Shen mysteriously told me that putting glue on stamps can be reused. When I wrote to a friend, I deliberately made the same thing and attached a sentence at the end of the letter: Please send the stamp back. My friend did not know why, so after receiving the letter, he removed the stamp on the envelope and sent it to me in the reply letter. I followed the method provided by others, and I wiped the glue off the stamp with water, and the postmark on it fell off, which made me very happy. When I wrote to my friend again, I didn't forget to mention a stamp to send back. Just when I was secretly proud, the letters with washed stamps were returned by the post office one after another because of "insufficient postage".

After graduating from Bing'er Normal School, we returned to our hometown middle school, and we had agreed to share the blessings before. Sure enough, after she received her first month's salary, she clipped 10 yuan to my letter. I used the brand new 10 yuan to go to the restaurant and order a pot of meat, plus a scrambled egg with tomatoes.

My friend Xiaojing's older brother Yi was in the military academy of the army, and we met on a fortuitous occasion. When he returned to the army, he wrote to me one after another. Once, when the secretary of the Youth League Committee in the class delivered a letter to me, he deliberately raised his voice and said, It is another triangular postmark, there is a situation. The other students quickly turned their heads over, and I immediately blushed, took the letter in my arms, and sneaked out of the classroom.

When there was no one around, I carefully opened the cowhide envelope, and when I saw a red bean in the letter, my heart began to pound. Yi expressed his admiration for me in the letter. I was embarrassed to respond positively, but the reply to him became more and more diligent, and sometimes the other students fell asleep, and I lit candles and hid in the mosquito net to lift his pen, and occasionally implicitly quoted ancient poems such as "one kind of lovesickness, two places of idleness". Later, he somehow broke off contact with Yi. Years later, we accidentally added WeChat, saying that he had written many letters to me, but he never received a response from me. Last time, a group of little sisters got together to talk about first love, and I wasn't sure if the brother who had only conveyed love through letters was my first love.

In the late '90s, I started wandering around in order to live. Whenever I go to a place to stay, the first thing I ask is the receiving address. According to the mailing address on the graduation message book, I wrote letters to the formerly good classmates one by one. But most of the letters I sent were like stones thrown into the water, and there was no sound. Many times, I write several times in a row before I receive a short reply. Some said that the work was busy, and some said that there was no stable place to settle down, and the topic began to become heavy.

In the 21st century, Bing Er has been transferred to the municipal key middle school, and Yun has become the backbone of the hospital's business. After several turns, I worked as a tour guide in the bustling city of Chongqing. We all have advanced communication tools such as email, landline, mobile phone, QQ and so on. During the New Year's Festival, the text messages of old friends are overwhelming. Occasionally, I would get calls from them, and we would talk on the phone, and I would feel bored talking. Once upon a time, I wrote a letter word by word under the light, feeling that I had endless words with anyone.

I still stubbornly adhere to the traditional mode of correspondence, writing letters to old friends who are far away. After they receive the letter, they will send a text message or a reply on QQ in time, and do not forget to teach me a lesson, now that communication is so convenient, how can they still use the old way?

By 2005, all the letters I sent were in the sea, and even Gu, who loved to write letters at the beginning, no longer mentioned the pen. I turned on my computer and recorded what I saw and felt in my life into words.

One autumn afternoon, in front of the cottage where I lived, I heard the postman calling my name again. I took the letter excitedly and saw that the shipping address was Chongqing Evening News. My heart trembled involuntarily, and I opened it to see that my mother was actually a life essay I had written and published in the newspaper. I must write to my friends to share this great news, but I just picked up my pen and put it aside.

I sorted the sample newspaper, along with all the letters I had received, in a wooden box in my hometown, and every time I came home, I looked at it. On a cold winter night, I sat at the head of the bed and picked up the yellowed letterheads, read and read, and my whole body felt warm.

In 2008, my hometown's house was relocated due to the Three Gorges migrants, and I rushed home to rescue the box of treasures, but it was too late, and the box of letters had been thrown into the garbage heap by my mother as waste.

When people reach middle age and have passed through a thousand sails, what I most look forward to and miss is still the letters sent to me across thousands of mountains and rivers. Fortunately, I still receive occasional sample reports from newspapers and magazines. I used to go to the neighborhood janitor's room every day to look at it, and I still cheered when I saw the letter with my name written on it.

For many nights, I always dreamed that letters from all directions flew towards me like snowflakes. I opened and read one by one, I couldn't read enough, and I woke up with a smile on my lips.

(Member of Chongqing Writers Association, Vice Chairman of Kaizhou District Writers Association)