Social reality/no CP/countryside/family and regional orientation/first person partial prose
My name is Yu Anhui, and my parents hope that I will be healthy and smart. So that I can support this family in the future.
I was born in a rural village in western Guangdong. It is very close to the sky. If I stand on tiptoe and touch it, I can touch the clouds. But this place is so far away from the city, so far away that I have been walking for eighteen years, so far away that my feet were bruised and bleeding.
Grandpa went to the war and never came back. Dad fell from a height and never came back. I was brought up by my grandma on her back, in wheat fields, in front of stoves, and under leaky roofs.
The days went on as usual. Although I have never seen them, sometimes I wonder, what is on the other side of the mountain? What else is there in the sky? Could it be that my grandfather and father are watching me from the sky?
But I don't have time to think about it for too long. Wheat has to be harvested, pigs have to be fed, and tuition fees for younger siblings have to be collected. I am a sister, and this identity is like a premature shell. Before I learned how to cry, I learned to swallow my tears.
When I was a child, my family never allowed me to express my emotions.
Grandma and mother always use "you are my sister" as an excuse to block my tears. So occasionally I think about how great it would be if I were not my sister - if I were not my sister and not the eldest one in the family, would I be able to cry openly and openly? Can you cry when you feel wronged? Can you cry when watching cartoons? Can you cry because you are hurt?
But I am the eldest sister in the family, and this cannot be changed.
I still have wheat to cultivate, and before I can finish crying, I have to wipe away my tears and stride forward. So I have probably built a dam in my mind since I was a child. The tears that should have flowed out were intercepted and redirected into the body - sometimes I always felt that they had poured into the gaps in the bones and quietly accumulated into a silent lake.
"You are the older sister, and you have to take care of your younger siblings."
This sentence is not only in our home, but also in this mountain. It has been true since ancient times. But I don't understand, what do I want? Why didn't anyone give it to me?
So I ran away.
When I was seventeen, I skipped school and went to work in a fabric factory in the county town. Grandma caught me back on a tricycle, mended every pair of holes in my socks, and folded them neatly on the bed.
At the age of eighteen, I wanted to go to a big city and work hard. Grandma took out a red envelope from under the pillow and a silver bracelet that she had worn for sixty years. Inside the red envelope was a bank card, which was Dad's work-related injury insurance compensation.
Grandma said: "If you miss me, just look at this bracelet."
On the day I left, Yu Yaofeng saw me off at the train station and hesitated to speak.
I turned back three times at the train station. I said: "I must stay in this city."
I have lived in the Handshake Building and slept in damp and moldy beds.
I worked as a hotel waiter, was framed, and was fired. I loved people I shouldn't love, and lost the people I should cherish the most.
I thought running away was the answer.
Until grandma passed away.
I rushed back to my hometown to pack up her belongings. I found a family portrait of five people from 2002, and found that on average, every seventeen pages of my test papers from first grade to high school contained a flattened flower. Only grandma likes to use flowers as bookmarks.
I found that she had carved a monument for herself in advance and selected Feng Shui.
She said: "Everyone is going to die, so when the time comes, keep everything simple."
I stood in front of her small earthen grave, and suddenly I remembered that when I was seventeen years old, I was standing here too and felt that the mountain was a prison. Now the mountain is still the same mountain, but I am no longer the same person.
Later, my mother got sick, and I saw that she only had 17.8 Yuan in her WeChat account. She bought Lotus Qingwen on Pinduoduo and returned it, returned it and bought it again. When the express delivery got stuck, she had already gone to the intensive care unit.
Fortunately, God has favored me.
So I returned to the mountain.
It's not failure, it's resignation. Accept that gentle fate.
I sell pink bananas online, listen to the old people talk about the past, and tell young people about the outside world. After the Guangzhou-Zhanjiang high-speed railway was opened, some people came to sketch, some came to invest, and some, like me, went out and came back.
Yu Yaofeng treated me to the meal that I had owed for six years. He said: "You are still the same as before."
I said: "It's different. I used to want to conquer the mountain, now I want to guard it."
Purpose: Life is nothing but mediocre, and I have no intention of trapping myself.
