The Working Road from Yunnan to Zhejiang

In the mountains of Zhenxiong, there was no small guarantee, and with 500 yuan of travel expenses, I boarded the green train bound for Zhejiang. My home was a leaky adobe house, and I heard that Zhejiang was "full of work." When Wu Xiaobao first arrived in Zhejiang, the gears on the assembly line of the shoe factory tore his palms. He has done takeout, entered a specialty factory, and a printing factory. At three o'clock in the morning, he was helping others buy seafood at the seafood market. He was sorting scallops with his cold red hands, but he couldn't even take a sip of the hot soup. But he didn't dare to stop: Zhejiang was included in his wages of fifteen yuan an hour. He has seen the team leader of the electronics factory making things difficult, encountered the deduction of the unscrupulous intermediary, and stared at the neon lights of the office building while working overtime until late at night; but he also encountered the gentleness from the fellow villagers in the same room, and the extra half of fried rice noodles given by the night market stall owner. Even when he saved up the first money, he said to his mother on the phone for the first time, "I am living a good life." This is a road from Wenzhou to Wenningtou, with mud and dust under our feet, but a glimmer of light in our eyes - the life of a young man in Yunnan in a foreign land, the fireworks of a group of migrant workers. In the sweat-soaked days, they knead nostalgia into steamed buns and sew hope into work clothes, waiting to earn a stable home in this strange city.