Appreciation of the Beauty of the Text 丨 Father and Son Love Author: Shu Yi Recitation: Wang Hui

Author: Shu Yi Recitation: Wang Hui

When I was two years and three months old, my father left Jinan and went south to Wuhan to join the torrent of the War of Resistance. When I saw my father again, I was eight years old. When we met, I felt that my father was very old. He had just finished cutting his cecum, couldn't stand up straight, and stood there with both hands pressed together on his cane. I timidly called him "Dad", and he raised an arm, touched my head, and called me "Little B". To him, to me, to grandpa and son are strangers to each other. He was severely anemic and complained about dizziness all day, but he still did not leave his desk every day to write "Four Generations Together".

He rarely went to Chongqing, and his happiest time was when friends came to visit him in Beibei. Only at this time did he talk a lot, became very talkative, and often a mouth is a series of jokes, making everyone lean forward and backward. Gradually, I regarded listening to him as the most attractive thing, always quietly listening to the side, and inevitably smirking. My father never drove me away, and often pointed at me and called me "silly boy" affectionately.

He had no interest in the children's homework or grades, did not ask or tutor once, and adopted an absolutely detached laissez-faire attitude. What he agreed with, in my opinion at the time, was almost all about play, such as he admired my interest in calligraphy and painting, my interest in singing, and my interest in participating in the social activities of the student council. He loved to take me to visit friends, to sit in the teahouse, to the bathhouse.

Walking on the road, it was always he with a cane in front of me, and I followed closely behind, and he never took my hand or spoke to me. I was short, and I followed him, and all I could see was his legs and feet, and the old leather shoes that had been crooked. And so, following his footprints, I walked for more than two years until he went to America. Now, as soon as I close my eyes, I can still see the crooked heels. I would like to follow it to the ends of the earth, without worrying, without talking, without thinking, but to know the whole world.

When I saw my father again, I was a fifteen-year-old teenager, a junior high school student. The gift he brought back to me from the United States was a box of ore specimens containing more than twenty cute little stones, shining with all sorts of strange brilliance, each with a scientific name and simple instructions.

I found it strange that at this moment my father had treated me as an independent adult, adopting an unusual adult-to-adult equality attitude. When he saw me, he stopped calling me "Xiao B" but "Shu B", and held out his hand to shake my hand as if they were friends with each other. His hands were soft, delicate, his palms were very red, and holding his outstretched hand, my heart was full of surprise, and I suddenly felt that I had grown up and was no longer his little "stupid boy". After graduating from high school, I passed the exam to study in the Soviet Union, and my father was very happy. Three times in five years, he went to the Soviet Union for meetings, all of which made special trips to Leningrad to see me. He didn't write me a letter, but he often triumphantly said to his friends: My son is a student of science and engineering, and he learns to make alcohol from wood!

Although my father sincerely treated me as an adult and a friend, and often discussed serious issues with me, I often felt strongly that in his heart I was still his little child. Once, I was going to the northeast on a business trip, before leaving to say goodbye to him, he was very concerned to ask if the ticket was brought, I said it was good, he said: "Show me!" "He wasn't relieved until I pulled out my ticket from my pocket. Then he asked, "How many belts did you bring?" I said, "One." He said, "No, two!" "Why two?" He said, "If that root breaks, you have to catch it blind!" Come, take this one of mine too. "Father's two questions made me laugh all the way.

For my love affair, my father also adopted a detached attitude, expressing complete respect for the child's choice. He gave us a large banner written in his own handwriting, eight large characters on the red paper: "Diligence and thrift, health is a blessing", and signed "Lao She". It was his second gift after the ore specimen, and it has been hanging in front of my bed ever since. Unfortunately, later the Red Guards tore it in half and threw it on the ground, and when they were gone, I picked them up from the ground and hid them, and preserved them to this day, although they are in tatters, but they are my most precious treasures.

It wasn't until a few years ago that I discovered from his articles that my father had many unique views on the education of his children, and he didn't say them directly to us before he died, but he did it, did it all, and did it beautifully. I finally understood the value of love.

After my father's death, I spent a dark night with him alone on the shore of Taiping Lake. I touched his face, took his hand, spilled tears on his scarred body, and I returned a little of the heat of the world as love.

I'm sad and I'm lucky.

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