The crowing of the rooster is our alarm clock, and the sunrise is our calendar. We live in this village, nestled among turquoise mountains and sun-drenched rice paddies, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Yet it is here, within these walls, soaked in the laughter and tears of generations, that we raise our children – where tradition meets ambition, where respect for elders and the desire for a future beyond the farmland meet.
Our home is a splendid tapestry, woven with countless threads. Grandpa, whose face is engraved with the wisdom of spending years in the sun, tells us the legends of past dynasties. He said that our ancestors migrated from the Central Plains, and they cultivated terraces and established homes on this land. He said: Our ancestors participated in the War of Resistance Against Japanese Aggression and defended our land with their flesh and blood. His fathers, he said, have been through hardships and have held on to our culture in the midst of turmoil. His story, like a mirror, allows us to see our roots and history. Grandma, with her tenacious love to knead the dough, taught us the secrets of our ancestors' dishes. She says that our diet is based on whole grains because it replenishes the energy we expend while working in the fields. "Our dishes are mainly marinated and cooked, she says, because this preserves the nutrients and flavor of the food. She said that our table is based on harmony and sharing, as it enhances family feelings and unity. Her dishes, like a poem, gave us a taste of our vernacular and culture. Their presence, as unwavering as the mountains themselves, instills in us instilled in us industriousness, filial piety, and a deep love for the land.
But their love doesn't bind us. Father, with eyes twinkling with dreams bigger than the valley, encourages us to pursue the stars. Our world is not just about this village, he said, there are many more places waiting for us to explore. He said that our future is not just about farming, there are more choices waiting for us to decide. He said that our potential is not limited to these scores, there are many more possibilities waiting for us to achieve. He urged us to study hard at school and Xi curled up by flickering candles at night to help us navigate the maze of standardized tests. He took us to the county library and asked us to borrow all kinds of books to expand our horizons and knowledge. He bought us a computer and exposed us to the wonderful world of the internet and the news and information outside of our village. Mother, the voice is like a breeze in a bamboo forest, reminding us of the value of compassion. She said that our lives are not only for ourselves, and there are many more people who need our care. She said that our happiness does not only come from the material, but also from the spiritual needs of our satisfaction. Her wisdom doesn't just come from books, she said, there's more to life than meets our needs. She encouraged us to learn Xi, explore the language of birds and butterflies, and remind us that there is wisdom beyond test scores. She took us to an orphanage in the countryside so that we could send warmth and hope to those children who had no parents, and cultivate our love and sense of responsibility. She bought us a piano to let us feel the wonderful world of ** and enrich our emotions and creativity.
Despite the pressure of exams, our education has embraced the symphony of the outdoors. The field became our classroom, where we learned Xi art of growing rice and the patience Xi to nurture life from the earth. We followed in our father's footsteps, planting seedlings, weeding, and harvesting, feeling the hard work and joy of the farmers. We also followed our mother's gaze, observed, recorded, analyzed, and discovered the mysteries and laws of nature. The river turned into a playground that taught us the power of teamwork and allowed us to build bamboo rafts and race against the rapids. Together with the neighbors' children, we built an improvised raft out of bamboo and rope, then put it in the river, sat on it, paddled with bamboo poles, and ran with the river. Sometimes we encounter rapids or waterfalls, and we have to help each other to maintain balance and overcome difficulties. Under the starry canopy, Grandpa pointed to the constellations and weaved legends of heroes and monsters, stimulating our imagination and curiosity. He said that the brightest star is the Big Dipper, which can guide us in the right direction. He said that the crooked Milky Way is the heavenly river, and it is the bridge where the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl meet. He said that the spoon-like constellation was Ursa Major, a hunter who had been driven down the sky by the goddess. His legend, like a book, allows us to read our sky and culture.
Of course, there are challenges. Resources are limited. Textbooks may be worn out, and technology is a rare bird. The world beyond our village seems shrouded in a fog of possibility and uncertainty. But we draw strength from the community. Neighboring families become extended relatives, sharing resources, celebrating milestones, and getting through tough times together. Together with other children in the village, we borrowed books from each other, discussed with each other, borrowed books from each other, discussed problems with each other, and helped each other with Xi. Our teachers are also our mentors, providing guidance, encouragement, and support. The laughter of the village echoes through the mountains, reminding us that we are not alone and that together we can build a future as strong as these ancient terraces.
This life – far from the hustle and glamour of the city – is a crucible of character. It teaches us resilience, abundance of resources, and a deep connection to the earth. It reminds us that family is not just blood, but bonds forged at shared tables, whispered stories, and laughter exchanged under a sky dotted with a thousand stars. It makes us dream of more than just a university auditorium, but a future where we can bridge the gap between tradition and progress, within reach while respecting our roots.
This kind of life is like a painting, connecting our hearts with the mountains and rivers. It teaches us to be fearless, to make good use of limitations, and to live in harmony with nature. It reminds us that family is not just about affection, but about the emotions that are built in shared suffering, joyous festivals, and heart-to-heart exchanges in the light that illuminates the darkness. It allows us to dream of not just high-rise buildings, but also a future where we can bridge the gap between tradition and innovation, and expand our horizons while remaining true to ourselves.
Our story is not alone: it is the story of countless families, hidden in the folds of rural China, each forging its own path in the dance of the past and the future. We are the bridge between heaven and earth, growing up in the furnace where the mountain and the heart meet. From this melting pot, we go out not only with knowledge and skills, but also with love, laughter, and the perseverance of our ancestors. Because in this rural tapestry, tradition is not a shackle, but a golden thread woven into the fabric of dreams, leading us to climb a brighter horizon.