Go back to the past
The cement slabs in the front yard were scorching hot from the sun, and the 20-year-old tiles were starting to fall off.
Li Guorong was weeping alone in the east room, while her husband Ye Fan was playing a novel in the west room, the sound as loud as flies buzzing around the house. Couldn't this man feel her pain?
Li Guorong, consumed by rage, stormed into the west room, snatched Ye Fan's phone, and with a "crack," the phone shattered into pieces on the tiles, finally stopping the annoying buzzing.
Her eyes were bloodshot as she shouted, "Wang Qiang cursed at me this morning, and you hid behind me without saying a word. Are you even a man? Do you have any guts? I almost forgot, you're impotent, you've always been spineless."
Ye Fan stared blankly at the phone on the ground, lacking the courage to meet her gaze.
This act made it seem as if she had bullied him, and the anger in his heart was as intense as the sun at that moment, wishing he could kill everything. "Who are you trying to fool with this pitiful dog act? I must have had the worst luck in eight lifetimes to marry you. If I had married a dog, at least it would bark."
Ye Fan raised his head, his face flushed, his throat bobbing as if he had a thousand words to say but didn't know where to begin.
"I had a daughter with you, and she's just like you, she's so quiet and unresponsive."
“Enough,” the man broke the silence, stood up, and growled in a low voice, “This is my home, get out.”
Li Guorong's eyes instantly filled with tears, which dripped down in large drops. "You're telling me to get out? Every brick and tile in this house was earned by me."
Ye Fan's chest heaved violently, and his vision blurred. "The land is mine, and the property certificate is in my name. Get out of here!"
Li Guorong pointed angrily at Ye Fan, "You said it yourself, don't come to invite me home again. Even if you kneel down before me, I won't come back."
Li Guorong turned and went back to the east room, grabbed his phone and left. The door slammed shut, and the rural courtyard fell into a deathly silence.
On the bus to the city, Li Guorong sent several 60-second voice messages to his daughter, but no one replied. They were as indifferent and selfish as her father. He felt he had wasted his time raising this daughter. Tears streamed down her face, but no one on the bus cared about her.
She thought of her first love's WeChat messages and looked at the two-story house he had built in the village with his own money. If only she could go back to the past, she could hold on a little longer and wait a few more years instead of marrying someone else at the age of 25 under the disdainful gaze of others.
When they arrived at their daughter's place, the living room was small but very clean. Their daughter was pale and had no smile on her face. She finally had an outlet for her anger. "When I was being bullied by others, your father didn't dare to say a word and even told me to get out of his house."
The daughter remained silent, just like her father. Her once robust body in the village now seemed empty beneath her skirt, like a wandering soul. She held Li Guorong's hand but said nothing, as if she were far removed from her mother.
Li Guorong didn't notice and said, "I've been working hard to earn money all these years. You know your father. After he got high blood pressure, he couldn't go on. I've been supporting you all by myself."
The daughter opened her mouth and then closed it again.
Seeing this reminded Li Guorong of Ye Fan, and he roared, "In your heart, am I, as a mother, not as good as a father?" This roar made all the lights in the building's corridor turn on.
The daughter simply asked calmly, "Mom, what do you want?" In her crystal-clear eyes, Li Guorong's image was reflected: disheveled hair, wrinkled skin, dark complexion, and short stature. The daughter in front of her, however, had grown tall and fair-skinned in just four years since leaving the village, and her cold expression made her look like a high-and-mighty city dweller.
With a sharp slap, Li Guorong's rough hand, accompanied by a strong gust of wind, struck her daughter's face. When had her daughter become so cold and selfish? Before, whenever the mother and daughter had a heart-to-heart talk, and she told her about her childhood and her husband's faults, her daughter would hug her and comfort her.
Her daughter's long hair covered her expression, and something seemed to freeze in the air, as if an indescribable power was gathering around her. Finally, her daughter raised her head.
Her face remained indifferent as she calmly said, "You said you wanted a divorce before, and I supported you. You wanted to find a second spring, and I supported that too. What more do you want?"
The daughter's words seemed to possess a demonic power, causing her to spill out all her innermost thoughts: "What do I want? I want to have never given birth to you, I want to have never married your father, I want to go back to when I was young, I want to marry my first love, I want my father not to have died so young."
Her daughter's eyes were half-closed, and only then did she realize that her daughter's glasses, which she had worn for many years, were gone. Her daughter looked as if she were about to drift away with the wind. Her daughter chuckled softly, "As you wish."
A violent wind surged through the room, making the curtains rustle loudly. The daughter tapped her chest three times with her hand, then raised her extremely indifferent eyes, like the starry sky she had seen on the mountain when she was young.
In 1985, at the foot of Mount Meng, Li Guorong's thin face was covered in sweat. She suddenly opened her eyes. The air around her was full of the smell of moisture. In the dimly lit room, she was sleeping on a wooden bed with only wooden planks on it. There was no quilt or mattress.
The main structure of the house was mostly made of wood, which carried a natural fragrance. She looked down at her hands, which were covered with calluses and still had large, white fingers. She touched her face, which was smooth and delicate, without a single wrinkle.
"Little sister, get up quickly, we're going to the market today."
Li Guorong ran out of the house, and on the grass, she saw her mother again. Her mother had a dark right side over her left shoulder and was feeding her younger brother with a gentle expression. Her mother's memory had become blurry; she only remembered her white hair, her hunched back, and how she stubbornly used her cane to go up the mountain to cut pig feed for the pigs.
A gentle mountain breeze shattered Li Guorong's daze. "Mom," she murmured, her voice barely audible. Her nose felt blocked, and tears streamed down her face. If this was a dream, she hoped to wake up a little later.
The eldest sister, Li Guolan, ran over and gently wiped away the tears from Li Guorong's eyes with some heartache. She whispered, "Rong'er, don't blame your mother. There wasn't much rice at home to begin with, and your younger brother is still small. We can only feed him." She thought that Li Guorong's tears were because her younger sister wanted to eat rice the day before, but her mother didn't give it to her and she was still upset about it.
Li Guorong carefully examined the eldest sister in front of her. Her eyes were bright, her fingers were intact, and her eyes were full of expectations for the future. She shook her head and then rushed to her mother's body, "Mom~ Mom~" Feeling the warmth from her mother, she had a mother again, and she had someone she could rely on.
Wu Cuihua looked at her youngest daughter with concern. Yesterday, she had made a big fuss and even went on a hunger strike because she hadn't eaten any rice. But there really wasn't much rice in the house, only enough for her youngest daughter. She took out a blue cloth from her bosom, unfolded it, and counted out 2 mao (0.2 yuan). "Go buy a bowl of rice tofu when you go to the market today. Don't be angry anymore."
Li Guorong took the money somewhat shyly, staring intently at Wu Cuihua, as if he couldn't get enough of looking at her.
Li Guolan pulled her along to hurry to the market. Today they had to sell the bamboo shoots they had dug up and buy needles and other small items. Guorong was already a late riser, so there was no time to waste.
Li Guorong clutched the money, somewhat dazed. Her sister's hand, which was gripping hers, stung slightly. Was this truly a return to the past? Or a dream? She hoped this dream would never end.
Rushing from one market to another, her face suddenly turned pale, and she asked in a trembling voice, "What's the date today?"
Li Guolan said, "Every fifth day of the month is market day."
Li Guorong shouted sharply, "What's the date?"
Li Guolan dodged for a moment, but her younger sister was getting crazier and crazier. "July 25th, hurry up, there's still an hour's journey. Once the rice tofu is sold out, there won't be any left to eat."
July 25th, rice, market day, rice tofu—these blood-red keywords were imprinted in her mind. She remembered that it was that day; today was the day her father went up the mountain to gather pig feed for her and accidentally fell and died.
She broke free from her older sister's hand and ran like a mad bull.
Li Guolan shouted from behind, "Where are you going? I'm going to the market and I won't wait for you!" Li Guolan looked at her younger sister's swift figure and wanted to chase after her, but she stopped and could only carry the basket to the market alone. Her younger sister was really getting crazier and crazier.
Li Guorong ran through the mountains with her slender legs. In her memory, Mengshan Mountain had asphalt roads at the foot of the mountain, and cement roads in the middle section. There was a shop or guesthouse every 1km. The mountain road could accommodate two cars at the same time. Cars were coming and going. The mountain road was built up piece by piece with stones.
However, at this time, the mountains were covered with trees, and the roots of the ancient trees intertwined and blocked the road. The road was full of yellow mud and green grass, hindering people's exploration of the green mountains.
"Ugh." With a muffled groan, she fell five feet to the ground, her cloth shoes flying off. She didn't bother to pick them up and ran frantically into the mountains. For the first time, she hated the mountain and the air of her hometown. The damp air made it hard for her to breathe, and the rugged mountain path prevented her from running fast.
"Dad, where are you?" she shouted, as if she were letting out all the grievances she had held back for so many years.
She stopped, forcing her long-dormant brain to start working again. Memories slowly returned, and her eyes shone. Li Guorong parted the tall grass and finally found the almost vanished path, the path closest to the spring.
She clung to the tree roots, pushing upwards with her feet until her face turned red from straining, and finally climbed up the 2-meter-high slope. She waded into the stream, which carried away her other shoe.
There was a hint of red in the stream, which chilled her to the bone and made her legs go numb. Far away, below the mountain wall, it looked like someone was lying there. She dared not go forward. If only her older brothers and mother were by her side.
The icy stream water lapped against her calves, mocking her cowardice. She pinched the inside of her arm hard. "Ouch!" she cried out. In a daze, she remembered when she pinched her daughter's arm, her daughter only frowned slightly.
Finally, her blood rushed to her legs, and she ran forward. It really was her father. He had fallen into the stream, his head was broken by a rock, and blood was flowing into the stream. The pig feed from his basket was scattered all over the ground.
Li Guorong tremblingly placed his hand under his father's nose, took a deep breath, and found that his father was still breathing. He tore off a clean strip of cloth from his clothes and tied it tightly to his father's head, but the blood immediately stained the cloth red.
She looked around, dug out some purplish-red grass, mashed it with a clean stone, and applied it to her father's head. Finally, the bleeding stopped, and she wrapped it with a clean cloth.
"Dad, wake up, Dad."
She tried to call out, but there was no response. She placed one hand under Li Qiangguo's armpit, trying to help him up, but she was far from strong enough.
What should she do? If she went down the mountain to call her family, it would be too late. If wild animals came, her father would be in danger. Tears streamed down her face again, as if something reflected light and flashed in her eyes.
It was a machete. The machete in the basket gave her an idea. She started cutting bamboo, tied the hemp rope in the basket into a raft, moved her father onto it and tied him up, and pulled the raft downhill quickly. She was sweating profusely, and the humid air made it even stickier. "Help!"
Li Guorong walked along shouting, hoping someone could help him.
Unfortunately, the weather was not cooperating; it always rained so much in Chongchuan. The fine drizzle nourished the plants in the mountains, making them even more vibrant.
But it felt like needles piercing her heart. She touched her father's hand, which was growing cold. She could only grit her teeth and keep walking down the mountain. "Help! Help!" she cried out hoarsely.
But the drizzle mixed with fog made everything unclear, and it seemed as if only she and her father remained in the world.
She felt very cold, her strength was waning, and she was feeling dizzy. She hadn't eaten anything since arguing with her family last night.
She cried out hoarsely, "Help! Help! Someone please save me!"
Desperate cries echoed throughout Mengshan.
A moo from a cow brought Li Guorong back to his senses.
She pulled the bamboo raft quickly down the mountain. There was an oxcart ahead. Her father was saved. Her life could start over. Her eldest sister would not hastily marry a mentally ill man just to let her two older brothers get married. She would divorce him early. She could also wait for her first love to come back from the army and marry her.
People wearing straw raincoats rushed over in an oxcart. Upon discovering the wounded man on the bamboo raft, they quickly placed Li Qiangguo on the oxcart. Li Guorong held him tightly in his arms to prevent his father from losing body heat.
Li Guorong was exhausted, and everything went black before his eyes.
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