At 3 a.m., I went to sell corn with my mother and returned to the country puppet book

On the eve of graduating with my master's degree, I hurried home after my busy defense. An important task back home this time was to help my mother sell corn.

My mother has been nagging about this for a long time, but because of my busy studies in the first half of the year, and my mother's arm injury, it has been delayed to this day. Back last year, my mother stored the peeled corn inside the gatehouse. Now, when we go to threshing, the situation is particularly disastrous: the rats make the corn their own meal. While busy, there was a sigh from my mother.

We bag the corn for 100 pounds each. An electric tricycle couldn't be loaded, so I borrowed one from a neighbor. Before going to the market, the mother was advised to go early. The next day, before 3 o'clock, my mother woke up and told me to get up. In the haze of sleepy eyes, I reluctantly got up, cleaned up, tidied up, and hit the road.

My mother and I drove a tricycle, one in front of the other. The light emitted by the tricycle is extremely abrupt on the empty and dark rural road, like a searchlight exploring the bottom of the sea. Bright moonlight, quiet and peaceful care for the earth. On the way, my mother told me about my aunt's experience of selling corn. The second aunt sold corn by herself, selling several bags at a time, and then sold out of corn one after another. I understood what my mother was trying to say: A person's life is very difficult. The feelings of the second aunt, why does the mother not have it? If my father is still there, why wait for me to come home? Thinking of this, the moonlight darkened in my heart.

At 3:19, we arrived at the market selling grain. It's a market, but it's just the edge of a large market in the center of the town. When we arrived, it was empty. While waiting with his mother, the roaring motor suddenly stopped, and a person came here on a three-wheeled motorcycle, muttering: "You also sell grain?" The mother replied, "Yes! "They all say come early and come early, where is the person here!" He grumbled.

In the dark, sporadic cars rushed by. The weather is rare and refreshing, and the cool breeze is mixed with a burst of frog song, and the frog sound is noisy, one after another, so it is not lively.

After a while, the number of people gradually increased, but there was no trace of the vendor. I didn't say a word, quietly listening to their conversation.

"I can't do it this year, you have a good harvest of peaches, I'm too tired of planting vegetables, I'm in my own sixties, I plan to plant peach trees, not vegetables."

"Yes, the money for one season of peach tree planting and selling vegetables for two seasons is the same, there is a market nearby, so you don't have to worry about selling it."

"Growing grain does not sell money, removing seeds, fertilizers, watering the land, miscellaneous, that is, the peasants themselves do not count the wages, if they count the wages, they may lose money." All year round, you can't exchange a few boxes of cigarette money..."

Everyone teased each other, and from time to time there were a few hearty laughs in the dark night. In the dark, I observed the people around me, most of the people who came to sell corn were dying, and the silver filaments were clearly visible in the night. They talked about future arrangements, dissatisfaction and triviality with reality, and helplessness in not being able to do farm work.

Time passed little by little, and I was closing my eyes on the tricycle when I heard a sentence in the haze: "How is the corn?" "Look closely, it turns out that a person came over. His dark face was still clearly visible even in the night, crisscrossing wrinkles covering the entire face. He lit a cigarette and the smoke dispersed. Seeing this, the mother hurried over and replied kindly: "The (threshing) corn we just hit, our corn is good (very good). The corn vendor reached into his bag and touched a handful of corn, and under the light of the headlamp, the golden corn kernels slipped from his hand, rippling some fine dust.

"How much do you want?" The vendor asked.

"We don't know, just knowing that the recent price of this is around 1.4 yuan." The mother replied tentatively.

"If you can't get this price, I'll give you more than 1.3 points."

"Give more, they sell more than 1.4 yuan!"

"Can't give it, can't get to this price."

The first attempt to trade ended in a brief exchange. My mother told the merchants that it was too low to sell, because she was afraid that the low price would affect the entire market and that she would be disliked. The man who smoked went to other sellers in a blink of an eye.

I thought our sale would last a long time, but after a while, there were more and more vendors. Another vendor came over and looked at him and asked, "How much is your corn?" ”

"We heard that the price is around 1.4 yuan." The mother's words were full of politeness and courtesy.

"When you sell corn, you always have a price." The vendor also replied with a grin.

"That's 1.4 yuan, I sold it early, my children are still in school, and I just came back to sell corn with me when I have time."

"Okay, pull it over!" The vendor said happily.

From a tricycle to a pickup truck, a bag of corn 100 pounds, heavy, I naturally can't parry alone. With the efforts of the vendor, me, and the old man we had just talked to, I finally finished carrying 1,310 pounds of corn kernels.

During the porting, he asked me if I was married, and I replied that I was still studying.

"How old!"

"29 years old."

"I'm a Ph.D." The mother added next to her.

"That!"

After moving the corn, the traders began to look for their next target. My mother and I were ready to leave. After a busy year's harvest, the income was finally fixed at 1834 yuan.

It became clear, today was the day of the gathering, and the number of vendors on the road gradually increased. My mother and I drove our tricycles on the roads, imagining that it would not be long before the market would be bustling again. A new day is about to begin again.

In two years, I've sold corn twice. Last year, traders went to our village to collect corn, and this year my mother went to the market to sell corn. One after the other, the price difference is 1 cent. But for this 1 cent, my mother was willing to wear the stars and the moon, and worked tirelessly to come to this market to sell. The hardships of life are often revealed in this little bit!

(The author is a doctoral candidate at Zhejiang University)

Zhao Yuanjian