Urban Iii's New Work: Family in the Midlands

I was admitted to Peking University. But this story is not about a counterattack. My dad was in jail twice. For the first time, he signed his real name on the receipt at the scrap yard - he couldn't learn to cheat, and he was too stupid to sign his real name even when he did something wrong. That receipt lay in the filing cabinet for five years and became irrefutable evidence. Two years after he was released from prison, he was taken away again. Because of his criminal record, he was sentenced to another two years. At that time, everyone said that this family was finished. My mother gets up every morning and says to herself: "We can't fail." She said this for more than a thousand days, but she really hasn't failed. She saved ten cents and two cents in a phone booth, answered the phone in the middle of the night and went to the village to call for people, and kept her head down to borrow money from door to door. My grandfather sold all the grain and sheep, went to beg for help with two bottles of wine, and said to the old ewe in the sheepfold: "Dehou is waiting for me to save it." My brother carried a brick out of the school gate, smashing through the wealth our family had finally saved. Later, I was admitted to Peking University. Many people say this is an inspirational story. Only I know that is not inspirational. Is alive. This is the ups and downs of a northwest rural family over thirty years. About those who can't speak - the grandfather squatting under the wall smoking a cigarette, the mother saving ten and twenty cents in the phone booth, the father standing at the school gate with a flashlight in his hand. They don't express it, they just do it. They put everything they couldn't say into the bowl of beef they couldn't bear to eat, and into the fifty-yuan pair of sneakers. Suffering is not wealth. But they swallowed it and kept walking.