I live in a small bungalow, and during the winter vacation, I spend all day sitting on the kang and wandering in a leisurely time.
The head of the kang is so hot that people can't help but move it to the tail of the kang; The wall of fire radiated warmth, and I leaned against it, glaring at it when I felt comfortable. I also moved the TV to the kang, switched channels at will, and immersed myself in the world of TV dramas. The child still can't walk, so he has to crawl around on the kang, get tired of playing and make a burst of shouting, feed him some food to sleep for a while, wake up and play again, and so on, and the day goes by.
As the night wore on, the fire went out and the house became cooler. In the early morning, the window panes were covered with ice flowers, and the interior of the house looked dim. When I woke up, I put on my padded jacket and walked down the kang, shivering with a chill on my body, but I still jumped to the window and began to scrape off the ice flowers. With a "snort", the body shivered again, the frost in the fingers melted, and a thin slit was revealed in the glass. I kept scraping, completely oblivious to the world behind the ice flowers. Eventually, the glass became transparent and the room was bright.
The child's father told me, "You are still like a child, go to the kang and put on cotton pants, be careful of catching a cold." I ignored him, and a burst of fire swelled up in my heart, and the orange flames jumped, and wisps of black smoke rose. Other bungalows are equipped with radiators, and under the windowsill in each room is a row of silver radiators, like lute-strings, more fashionable than a wall of fire. There was a boiler in someone else's kitchen, tall and square, filled with black coals, and it sounded "whining", and after a while, the heating in each room was hot. My bungalow is too small, and the kitchen is cramped, with only one stove, and I can only rely on the kang and the fire wall for heating. Even if there is a small boiler, I am afraid that it will not be able to find a suitable place to put it.
The old house I lived in was 60 square meters, and the new house was more than 90 square meters. Suddenly moving to a small house of less than 40 square meters, you can imagine how you feel in your heart. The house is small and divided into two rooms, old and young. The living room takes up half of the space in the house, there is no kang, only a bed and a row of furniture, which is barely the most decent place in the house. The hut is too small, learn from the local Koreans, and open the door to the kang. Some wall cabinets were hung on the wall, and the bedding was packed during the day, barely the furniture of the hut. It was also because the house was too small to be heated, and the only heating equipment was a stove. The living room and cottage share a fire wall, and although the cottage is all kang, the space is limited, and it is the warmest place in the house in winter. I stayed on the kang every day, keeping warm and coaxing the children. But I was only in my twenties at the time, and my mind was unstable, and I couldn't help but feel a little frustrated and unwilling.
The father of the child was a few years older than me and seemed to be more resistant to the cold. Even on the coldest days of the year, he never felt cold. As soon as he woke up, he put on a cotton coat and never stuck to the bed like I did, and he didn't have time to scrape the ice flowers on the window like I did. He was dressed thickly, wearing an old cotton jacket, the cuffs were worn to a raw edge, and the placket had long since been "retired" into work clothes. The door creaked open, and the sound became more and more harsh, indicating that the weather was extremely cold, and the hinge of the door may have been covered with thick frost, and there may have even been some freezing. In winter, he is always the first person in the house to open the door. He went to the coal shed to get coal, filled a pot with coal from an old basin, and put some fine wood chopped on top of it. He entered the house with this basin, and the door creaked again, and a cold air followed. He crouched down and lit a fire, and the fine wood burned, and the smell of wood filled the room. After a while, the coal was also lit, and a wisp of the smell of the city wafted out, strange but intimate.
The first time I smelled coal was when I was four or five years old and came to town with my grandmother. We stayed in the house of a distant relative, who had a very low house with coal. When I woke up in the morning, I was still lying under the covers and smelled this strange smell. It's not the smell of incense, it's not smelly, but it leaves a deep mark on my heart. Since then, whenever adults mention going to the town to catch the market, I will smell that smell in my nose and my heart will ripple. As the adults went to town a few times, I was a little disappointed that I couldn't smell the coal every winter.
Moving into the small bungalow I just bought, the smell of soot fills the air every day, but it doesn't bring much joy. Yes, even for such a small bungalow, we had to borrow some money when buying it. Between reality and romance, we chose to cater to reality. Just like when they are hungry, people prefer to grab a steamed bun that may not be white enough, and ignore a delicate flower. To be precise, the small bungalows become cosy in a soot atmosphere.
The kettle was steaming on the stove, and he opened the door to the hut and urged me to go down and wash. The bedding was warmer than when I woke up, gradually smoothing out the wrinkles in my heart. I was young, not yet 25 years old, so I didn't get angry easily, and even when something didn't go my way, it would quickly dissipate. It's nice to be young, to have plenty of good time, and to be open-minded.
After washing, the kitchen and cottage gradually warmed up, and the child woke up. I dressed, washed her face and washed her hands. The child was happy to see the water, and her little hand reached out to the basin and "babbled" in her mouth, and I kissed her on the cheek, and she actually giggled. I turned on the TV, and the people inside seemed to have just gotten out of bed, and there was a sense of freshness in their voices, maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part. The child can watch TV for a while, and I take the opportunity to wipe my face, thrush, and rub my lips. The small bungalow, though cramped, is still a place for me to put my youth.
Fold the bedding on the kang, put it in the wall cabinet, wipe the kang noodles, set up the small kang table, and start eating breakfast. The child's father made rice porridge, boiled eggs, fried cabbage, and steamed steamed buns for breakfast, although there were no cooking skills, just as there were no special ingredients. However, it is really delicious. The rice porridge is white and fragrant, and the eggs are yellow and fragrant after boiling. Stir-fried cabbage did not put any shredded meat, and was reluctant to put too much soybean oil, and the evenly cut shredded vegetables were stir-fried to taste. The steamed buns are choked noodles, slightly hard, and can barely satisfy hunger when eaten. Eating the food he cooked, it felt really delicious.
After breakfast, our family of three spent time on the kang because the big house was too cold, and the door of the big house was closed tightly to prevent the cold from pouring in. Lunch is still the same as he cooks, and lunch is still the same, but with some other dishes. In the afternoon, my child and I continued to pass the time on the kang, while the child's father went to the yard to be busy. He had no time to sit idle: sweeping the snow, sweeping the yard, chopping wood. Before dark, he started to light the fire again, trying to make the little bungalow warm at night through hard work. Even though the living room became no warmer, at least the cottage should be warm.
In those years in the small bungalow, the winters seemed to be even colder, and the living room was like a refrigerator. Yet I bravely went to that room to scrape the ice on the window, even though I shivered. Now I understand that he endured the cold and warmed the hut; He gritted his teeth and persevered, making the winter of the small bungalow like spring. List of high-quality authors