Fireworks Never Stop

Yongliang was born in Qingyan Village in central Hunan. When he was seven years old, flash floods roared on a rainstorm night, and his parents were swallowed up by mudflows while rushing to harvest rice for drying. Chen Houtu, a deaf-mute carpenter, dug him out of the ruins and gestured: "If you don't starve to death, I will chop wood with my uncle." From then on, an old man and a young man depended on each other. He joined the army at the age of eighteen. Five years of wind and snow on the Qinghai Plateau sharpened his silent spine. On the day he returned to the village to run for village director, the villagers laughed loudly: "Liangzi, you've chewed through the boards of your uncle's coffin. How can you make us rich?" He held his discharge certificate with veins in his hand and walked into Luo Bingyou's earthen house without saying a word. The stove was deserted, and the old man was eating hard steamed buns with pickles. Yong Liang took out the pork belly he brought and simmered it. The moment the fireworks started, Rob burst into tears and said, "It's been ten years... This is the first time to eat hot food." "Food from hundreds of families" has become his sword and shield: he inquired about the drought situation when helping orphans and widows plant rice; he tasted the sour pickles of Granny Li, a householder with five guarantees, and sent her to the hospital overnight to be diagnosed with gastric cancer; he even used his retirement pension to build a "Qingyan Jar Vegetable" workshop. During the live broadcast, he awkwardly held up sour beans and said: "Comrades... Help me!" Glory and thorns grow together. His son Xiaohe complained that he was "a father who only cares about other people" and failed the college entrance examination and left for Shenzhen; Xiuyun fainted in the classroom, but he stayed on the flood embankment for three days without returning. In the autumn of 2025, a heavy rainstorm hit the village. Yong Liang was hit in the right leg by a broken tree when he was leading the militia to transfer people. The villagers carried the door panel to the hospital in the rain, and people knelt outside the operating room. When I woke up, I saw that the bedside was piled with food from hundreds of families - Robert's bacon, Po Li's rice cakes, and Xiaohe's fish soup. He cried like rain while sucking the fish soup, and the scabs on the burns were the result of half a lifetime of cold and warmth.