There Is No Such Sound in My Hometown

This story is about a man and a woman. The man's name is Zhou Mingyuan, from Yushu, Jilin. Those who make sorghum wine at home are known as "Zhou Shao Guo" for hundreds of miles. His father saved money all his life to send him to study in the United States. He stayed in the United States for four years, studying history, drinking whiskey, and dancing jazz, thinking that he would become a Western figure. As a result, when I came back, my home was gone, my father was dead, and the cooking pot had been taken over. He went to the Northeast to teach and joined the underground party, but he didn't believe anything in his heart - he just felt that it would be a shame to die if he was going to die. Later, the organization transferred him to Shanghai. He didn't go to the meeting on the first day and went to Paramount to drink first. The woman's name is Shen Yuehong, from Mingze, Shandong. When she was seven years old, her father was beaten to death by a landlord. She knelt on the ice and kowtowed, begging for a coffin board, but no one listened. Later, her mother died on the streets of Shanghai, and she was adopted by an opera troupe. She studied opera for ten years and became a well-known actress in Shanghai. But secretly she is an underground party traffic officer, codenamed "Jingzhe". What is Jingzhe? Jingzhe is the sudden stirring of spring thunder and the revival of all things. She had been waiting for that thunder all her life. The two men met in Shanghai. At first she looked down upon him. She felt that this man was undisciplined, poor-talking, and unreliable. He is indeed undisciplined. But it was the first time he heard her singing "The Peach Blossom Fan" and he was stunned when he heard the sentence "Seeing him building a Zhulou, watching him entertaining guests, watching his building collapse". He hadn't read the play, but he had seen the building collapse. His building collapsed. Later, they sent information together, evaded patrols, and walked through the dark alleys. Once he was injured, and she took care of him for seven days and nights in a cramped attic in Zhabei. On New Year's Eve, when firecrackers were set off outside, she stood up, without makeup or hair, wearing the blue cheongsam that had been washed white, and sang to him a piece of Shandong Bangzi - "Mu Guiying Takes the Command". She broke a note. She never broke her voice. It was that night that he felt that he could no longer live like this. The story turned out to be very long. She went to the Soviet area and died at the age of twenty-nine. He survived, moved to Hong Kong, and died in a small apartment. He never married again in his life. He kept three things: an old playlist, an old playbook, and a letter that could never be sent. The beginning of the letter is always "Comrade Jingzhe, the words are like meeting each other". He wrote it for thirty years, adding a paragraph every New Year's Eve. This is the life of two people. This novel is about revolution, but revolution is not a slogan, it is a specific sacrifice, a specific parting, and a specific "you lived and I died, but my death was not in vain." This novel is also about love, but love is not about flowers in front of flowers and under the moonlight. It is a Shandong Bangzi song played on New Year's Eve in Shanghai in 1933. It was he who said, "When peace comes, let's go to Lake Baikal to raise cattle and sheep." She smiled, but had no time to agree. I wrote about where they came from. The snow on the elm trees in Jilin, the crucian carp in the Kacha River, and the smell of distiller's grains in the Zhou family's cooking pot. Pancakes and green onions in Mingze, Shandong, knees on the ice, unnamed graves on mass graves. I feel that if I don't write this clearly, I won't understand why they lived and died like that. I also wrote about Shanghai. The plane trees in the French Concession, the cafes on Xiafei Road, the alleys and shantytowns in Zhabei, the fog on the Huangpu River. What a good era it was, and what a bad era it was. Everyone was struggling, some people sank, some people floated up, and some people gave others a lift before sinking. I don't think it's a tragedy. Shen Yuehong was twenty-nine when she died, but her life was not in vain. Zhou Mingyuan lived to be over eighty years old, but his life stopped at the age of twenty-nine when she died. None of them lived in vain. This book is not intended to teach people anything. It just writes about how two people lived, loved, and held on to something in a broken era. What that thing is, I can't tell. Maybe it's faith, maybe it's a promise, maybe it's a shadow under the kerosene lamp on New Year's Eve. Purpose: Faith is not an empty slogan, it is the concrete impact one person has on another person. Love is not possession, it is mutual redemption and fulfillment. Living is not about breathing, it is about living out their share for those who have not survived.