Crossroads of Volunteerism
On the afternoon of the day the college entrance examination ended, the sunlight was dazzlingly white, as if it wanted to evaporate all the depression that had accumulated over the past three years in one breath.
When the bell rang, marking the end of the last class, all kinds of noises erupted in the classroom.
Sighs of relief, long-suppressed cheers, and the noise of tables and chairs colliding.
There were also scraps of paper thrown by someone, fluttering down like a hasty snow.
I slowly packed my pencil case, looked at the familiar yet unfamiliar faces around me, and suddenly realized that this was the end.
When I returned to the classroom to pack my things, the setting sun was just shining in.
I walked to the seat by the window, and the pot of unattended and long-withered green ivy was still there on the windowsill.
On the last day before the college entrance examination, I also stayed in this position, staring at the teaching building opposite.
The first-year high school students had just finished class. They were wearing the same baggy school uniforms as we did back then, chasing and playing in the corridor, their laughter clear and loud, without any scruples.
A boy snatched a girl's hairpin, and the girl chased him with a smile, her figure lively and full of vitality.
I was a little dazed, and I just felt that the way they played and fought was exactly the same as we did back then.
In fact, nothing has changed, the angle of the sunlight, the outline of the teaching building, and even the smell of chalk dust in the air.
It's just that a different group of people are having fun in the same classroom.
When I look at them, I can imagine that we used to lean on the same window and watch the raindrops fall.
But they looked at me and could never guess what the future would look like.
Sometimes I really want to wake up and find the math teacher still explaining trigonometric functions in the compulsory course 4, and we are still a long way from the college entrance examination.
————
The summer vacation after the college entrance examination was long and empty.
The day the results came out, I locked myself in my room the entire day. I couldn’t tell whether I was happy or sad.
A grade that was neither high nor low was very similar to my entire high school years.
There was no stunning comeback, nor was there a tragic failure. It was just a dull and unremarkable end to a period of time.
The application form was spread out on the desk.
My dad wanted me to apply for a teacher training program, as it was stable and suitable for girls. He said, "It would be great to be a teacher in the future."
My mother quietly suggested that I consider finance or accounting, saying, "They're good jobs and the income is decent."
But what about my own choice?
What do I like? What can I do?
I have thought about this question from junior high school to high school, but the answer is still vague.
In the end, I chose a university in the south, thousands of miles away from home.
My mother flipped through the thick application guide, hesitated several times, and finally said with red eyes, "It's a bit far... but it's good to go out and see the world. You can't stay in Hanchuan forever."
My dad smoked silently and then signed his name on the volunteer form.
————
It was during that summer that the long-rumored demolition of the Hanshi staff housing estate was finally officially launched.
Excavators and bulldozers drove into the familiar compound, and the red word "demolition" was covered on every mottled wall of the building.
My parents began to discuss the apartment types in the new property with great interest, and expressed their gratitude that they had finally made it and would be living in a new house with an elevator and property management.
I was the only one who felt lost, like a piece of my heart had been dug out.
The towering sycamore trees at Han Normal University, the bumpy playground that bore the marks of countless running footprints, the large open space where we played hide-and-seek, and Auntie Shen's old studio, now deserted and locked with a rusty lock...
They all record our chaotic yet brilliant youthful years.
Really moving...
We didn't have much stuff at home, so the packing went pretty quickly.
Those old clothes with childish patterns, the dusty toy box stuffed under the bed, the curled-up certificates from elementary school, and the random doodles on the textbooks...
Most of them were decisively thrown into the trash by my mother.
"They are all useless old things that I can't take away."
As she spoke, she neatly sealed the last carton, without any nostalgia in her tone.
Our family was the last to move out.
That day, the moving company's truck stopped downstairs early. The workers shouted and lifted the furniture onto the truck one by one, raising clouds of dust.
Most of the neighbors have moved out, and the whole building seems very quiet, with only a few windows still hanging with faded curtains.
I stood at the familiar corridor entrance, watching the workers dismantle and carry away the small bed I had slept on for more than ten years, and watching the old sofa where we watched cartoons together being stuffed deep into the carriage.
There were marks on the floor from the old furniture being moved away, and dust was flying in the air.
"Little girl, check the room again to see if you left anything behind."
The driver asked me in a gruff voice, a cigarette in his mouth, the engine already roaring, urging us to leave.
I looked around at the empty living room and the mottled walls, and shook my head. "No, Master, they are all here."
In fact, I know in my heart that some things can never be taken away.
They are rooted in this land, entangled in every familiar air, and are destined to be buried with the roar of bulldozers.
The car started slowly and drove out of the gate of the family compound.
I couldn't help but roll down the car window and look back.
On the playground not far away, a huge bulldozer was working, its giant steel arms waving, making a deafening "boom" sound.
The sand pit where we spent countless afternoons has long been flattened, leaving no trace.
Those glass marbles once buried under the camphor tree as "treasures", those childish words secretly carved on the corner of the wall, vowing to be "good friends forever", and the countless evenings when the sun set and we chased and played as we ran home...
Everything was buried in the ruins with a loud bang.
As the car turned the corner, the last roof of the Hanshi family compound disappeared from sight.
The world outside the car window quickly receded, and the brand new shops and unfamiliar pedestrians outlined a city picture that was completely different from my memory.
Life is probably just such a long road.
There is always someone who comes with a smile and lights up your time; there is also always someone who turns around silently and disappears at the next intersection.
The fact that we can appear in each other's lives, accompany each other through a long or short journey, and share laughter and tears is already a great gift and joy.
We should be grateful even if the ending was a bit hasty.
I turned my head and looked at the unfamiliar road stretching ahead.
The wind blew in through the car window, bringing with it a damp and warm breath from afar.
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