My father was a scholar and had never done farm work since he was a child.
In the months before my mother passed away, she loved to talk to me incessantly.
She said my father's ancestors were big capitalists in Kunming. My father had studied in Germany. The first time she met my father, he was wearing a smart suit and gold-rimmed glasses. He was refined, elegant, and handsome.
At that time, my mother was already not very clear-headed.
How could anyone say such a thing back then?
However, to be fair, the spirit my father possessed was indeed different from that of the uncles and elders around him.
My father was a strong-willed man.
When I first started doing farm work, my hands and feet were chafed raw.
He gritted his teeth and remained silent. When he got home, he would apply some gentian violet and go back to work the next day.
Until his hands and feet were covered in thick calluses, he began to be more adept at farm work.
Both my father and mother are people who can find the bright spots in ordinary life.
My mother was obsessed with making more dishes from the limited food supplies, while my father started teaching me botany.
"Ruoruo, look, these are winter jasmine and forsythia. Don't they look exactly the same?"
My father pointed to two clusters of golden, beautiful flowers and said to me.
I looked at it carefully again and again, and it was clearly the same kind of flower, so why is it called "Welcoming Spring" in some places and "Forsythia" in others?
My father told me to observe carefully and see if there were any differences.
I looked and looked, and finally realized, "Ah! One flower has four petals, and the other has six!"
My father nodded in satisfaction, looking at me with an appreciative and proud gaze. “Forsythia has six petals, while winter jasmine only has four. Forsythia twigs are green and four-sided, while winter jasmine twigs are light brown and round.”
My father patted my head and said, “No two things in this world are exactly alike. If you observe carefully, you will find that they are very different.”
My father said that no two leaves are the same in the world, and no two people are exactly alike.
My father took me to pick wildflowers and weeds to make specimens. We also found a lot of medicinal herbs. After processing them, we sold them to the herb purchasing station and got some pocket money in return.
I used this spare change to buy food and books.
Although life in Lijiapo was poor, the family was together, and those were good days.
But my father's illness is getting worse.
My father always coughed up blood. My mother took him to the hospital, and when they came back, she was completely distraught.
My father's face was pale with a slight flush, but he seemed alright. He smiled at me, patted my head, and took a piece of fruit candy out of his pocket and handed it to me.
That candy was green apple flavored, and I still remember its taste.
That's the taste my father left me.
My father left without a sound.
Before he died, he seemed to have a final burst of energy, and he called my mother and me, who were preparing medicine for him, to his bedside.
"Ah Zhu, I'm leaving. You're going to suffer from now on."
The mother's eyes instantly welled up with tears, which fell in a steady stream.
My father tried to reach out and touch my head again, but he had no strength left. His hands were so dry that they looked like skin and bones.
He didn't raise his hand in the end. He said one last thing, which I couldn't quite make out, but it sounded like, "Live well."
After my father passed away, the uncles and aunts in the village helped bury him in the cemetery on the edge of the village.
It's just a small grave, without even a tombstone.
Only my mother and I were left at home.
It was as if half of my mother's soul had been taken away, and the remaining half was for my sake.
My mother seemed to know that she didn't have long to live, so she worked hard every day to earn money and save it up for me.
Less than six months later, his mother also passed away.
Another small grave has been added to the cemetery.
I knelt before my mother's grave, and when I looked up, I saw my father's grave next to it.
Before the soil on my father's grave had dried, my mother added more soil.
Many people think I can't go on living.
Captain Li Jin had contacted people in Wuxi, wanting me to return to Wuxi.
Unfortunately, I didn't have any relatives there, so no one took me in.
After all that commotion, I ended up staying in the cowshed in Lijiapo.
The two low-ceilinged houses in my home felt increasingly deserted. I huddled in the inner room, listening to a few people outside quietly discussing my future.
"How can a seven or eight-year-old child support himself?"
"Why--"
A long sigh.
After a long pause, Uncle Yuliang said, "Brother Yunzhong saved my life, and now that both of them are gone, it's only right that I raise Ruoruo. Captain, don't worry, Ruoruo will be my own daughter from now on!"
I listened silently from inside the house, thinking to myself, Uncle Yuliang's family isn't doing well either, what if I were added to their food supply...
As expected, his proposal was rejected by the captain.
“Everyone is struggling these days, and every extra mouth to feed means more food to eat! I think it would be better if I went to apply for an orphan subsidy for the Ning family’s little girl, and the village gave her a share of grain. With everyone helping out, we can raise her.”
The captain made the final decision.
No one objected anymore.
Finally, the captain emphasized to everyone in a serious voice, "This child has a hard life. He was originally from a big city, but now he's ended up in Lijiapo. So he's one of us from Lijiapo!"
None of you are allowed to be xenophobic, and you are not allowed to bully her!
If I find out whose wife and children are bullying her, humph! I'll deduct their grain rations!
In those days, food was life!
With the captain's words, no one dared to mess with me.
Every morning I help Uncle Yuliang with his work. He's chopping grass, and I straighten the grass for him and put it under the chopper.
At first, he wouldn't let me do any work, and would always tell me with tears in my eyes to go play with Sister Lanhua.
Actually, I really wanted to go and have fun, but I couldn't forget the words my mother told me before she passed away.
The mother said, "My son, from now on you will be a child without father or mother. You must live well, be diligent, and be observant. If someone bullies you, just endure it and slowly get through it. Things will be better when you grow up."
I dare not shirk my work.
Because I dare not gamble on how long Uncle Yu Liang's conscience will last, nor on how long the kindness of everyone in Li Jiapo will last.
I try to make myself invisible, do more work, talk less, and never go to school.
I did this with only one hope: that I would not be affected by my deceased parents' status in the subsequent movements.
This strategy proved to be correct.
I did indeed live to be twelve years old quite smoothly.
In recent years, I have not only developed a lot of strength from doing farm work, but I have also not missed out on learning knowledge because I did not go to school.
The books my father left me are already worn out from reading them so many times.
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