The imprint of the times is profound, especially the imprint left by the "fiery red era", but anyone who has experienced it will not easily erase it.
In the winter of 1973, God seemed to be very revolutionary, with more sunny and less rainy, and the frost was particularly heavy. In the early morning, the red rock middle school campus rang the morning exercise bell, leaving the warm bed, feeling more frosty, the outdoor air seemed to be frozen by frost, and the wilderness was gray. For morning exercises, I ran along the highway, my feet on the dry grass on the side of the road "Chirp! Beep! Chirping" rang. It's the last day of middle school life, and after the morning graduation ceremony, the students who have been together for four years will go their separate ways. Although I was young and did not know the sorrow of parting, my heart was still uneasy, and I felt that I was going to lose something. In those years and months, I studied for the revolution, graduated and returned to my hometown to accept the poor and lower-middle peasants, or for the revolution, everything was for the revolution, my heart was both simple and simple.
Back in my hometown, I became the first high school student in the village, and the villagers affectionately called me "intellectual" and took care of me everywhere. In fact, I don't know anything but a few more words.
First, the bottom score is "ten points"
At that time, in the countryside, the work was recorded according to the bottom score, and only the strong young and middle-aged men could be set at the bottom point, and only because I was the first high school student in the village, the team cadres broke the ground and set the strength not as good as the bottom six points of the women, and the bottom score was also set at ten points, which was a rare honor.
Although history has entered the 1970s, the productivity of the countryside is still very low, the value of a division of labor is about two cents, a young and middle-aged man, working a day can not earn two dimes, all year round tired can not fill the stomach, so the team always left the oil tea seeds picked from the mountains to the spring festival before the Spring Festival to send to the oil press room, so as to give the villagers a little tea oil for the New Year. The first farm job I did was to send camellia seeds to the oil press room with all the young adults in the village.
The oil press is not far from the middle school where I studied, about six kilometers away. For breakfast, my mother specially made some delicious food for me, and told me to eat more and rest more on the way. When I went to the warehouse, the custodian had already packed the oil tea seeds in the basket, and saw that I was short, and I deliberately put less in each basket. Without saying a word, everyone picked up the oil tea seeds and went on the road, and the captain walked in the front. Along the way, dozens of baskets rose and fell rhythmically at both ends of the flat shoulders, emitting a sound of "squeak, squeak..." just like the password of the marching army, and with this sound, everyone marched in a neat stride, leaving behind the footsteps of "rustling, rustling..."
Sixty kilograms of weight and short and thin me is really not commensurate, a happy is very difficult, although trying to control the rhythm of walking, less than a kilometer on the pace of chaos, in the past school never found it difficult to walk this road, today feels particularly long, particularly rugged. The waist is not straight when going uphill, and the legs cannot win when going downhill. When it was time to cross the bridge, I laid down my overwhelmed burden, went to the river, washed my face with a handful of water in my hands, washed my face with sweat, and rested for a long time. Looking at the wooden bridge in front of me, I am very scared, this wooden bridge I don't know how many times I have walked, I have always felt that crossing the bridge is a very interesting thing, it is very fun, every time I always love to jump on the bridge a few more jumps, today, I pray reverently, wooden bridge, please don't shake ah, let me go safely!
I mustered up enough courage, picked up a heavy burden, almost walked next to my feet, my legs and stomach kept trembling, one step, two steps..., a bridge board, two bridge boards..., finally crossed the bridge, I was sweating, I couldn't wait to put down the burden, took a long breath, for the first time in my life deeply felt the responsibility of shouldering manhood, it turned out to be so heavy!
I don't know where others have gone, it seems that the road under my feet is getting longer and longer, and the sun in the sky is turning faster and faster, stopping and walking, walking and stopping, like a drunkard, his feet are more and more disobedient, shaking left and right, making the basket also drunk all the way. Gradually, the oil press room entered the curtain, and at this time, hunger and fatigue struck, and the bitterness was not enough. I gritted my teeth and moved forward step by step, finally walking six kilometers to deliver the oil seeds to the oil press.
When I returned home, the sun was already on the shoulders of the mountains to the west, and she blushed and blamed me for not cherishing time too much, giving me a day to do this little work. I only earned five divisions of labor on this day, because the round trip was stipulated to be a morning time. (To be continued)
