That Year My Mother Took over the Class

In the winter of 1996, the first list of laid-off workers from the Quyang County Cotton Mill was posted, and my name, Lu Suihe, was in the first row. On the same day, a lame man stood at the factory gate. He opened his mouth and asked, "Is Su Guizhi still here?" The enamel jar in my mother's hand fell to the ground with a clang and broke into three pieces. Thirteen years ago, there was only one replacement spot left in the factory, and my mother took it. The other person, including his name and person, completely disappeared. Now the man is back, carrying a crumpled old transfer order in his pocket. The name on it has been scratched and rewritten. But this time, only one of our two families can stay.