I come from a distant field, like thousands of young people in the countryside, with the hoe in my hand to paint the immature and simple dreams of the future.
Now I am full of gray hair, and time has refreshed my memory, but it has left some deep imprints. Occasionally closing my eyes, my mind will be controlled by a horse of distant memories, galloping in that special era - it is the right amount of loneliness, a symbol of youth exclusive to that time.
The annual rings take me back to the title page of 1969: a page that remembers my less outstanding youth. Yes, I was in the prime of life that year, but I only laid out the youthful picture of ordinary scenery.
It was in the spring of that year that I was so excited by the call up for the army that I hurriedly told my parents that I was going to join the army. Although they were not too surprised by my choiceHowever, their silent support and relief have forged the most solid stone wall of my young heart, allowing me to bravely face the unknown journey.
Parents are like small but strong hands, supporting the family and making everything possible. Like all agrarian parents, they are simple-minded and want nothing more than a safe life and a well-fed child—this is their only and most precious luxury.
And I, named Wencheng, am the silent child of this land. I gave me the opportunity to recruit in the future, but I didn't expect that fate would always play some tasteless jokes with me. On the eve of that check-up, I had a high fever for no apparent reason, my body was firmly engulfed by the disease, and the feeling of weakness that I couldn't do was overwhelming.
At that time, the medical conditions were not enough to shelter us from the wind and rain, so in the face of serious illnesses and small pains, we had to use the earthwork at home to deal with emergencies - a large bowl of hot water, a thick cotton jacket, a hooded hat and a heavy quilt. However, this time, our little magic weapon will not work, because the military ship cannot wait for the tide of my remote corner to end.
My father, a man who usually didn't talk much but always stood up at critical moments, led me without hesitation through 30 miles of fields to a well-known Tulangzhong. That Tulangzhong's ancestors have practiced medicine for generations, and in his generation, although his reputation is no longer beautiful, he is still obsessed with this touch of human temperature.
Not in the way, just the wind chill. His words were like an antidote to my father's worries and those of me. Even if I feel that my body has been relieved after taking the medicine, I still can't cope with the actual physical examination. I vividly remember the day when my arms were weak and my eyes were empty, and I knew that I had lost. I truthfully reported the situation to the brigade, and I knew that I would easily let go of this opportunity.
Afterwards, I had no time to take care of the longing of the military, so I had to return to the farmland with my parents, where life was the same as before, and I seemed to be captured by the fine mesh of fate, and the trajectory of my life unconsciously changed from "military camp" to "love". In our village, where early marriages are commonplace, and without the constraints of school or military service, it seems logical to start another life journey at the age of 18.
Just when I thought that everything in the future was in the palm of my parents, and that the course of life had already been fixed, fate refused to let go of the longing for the rushing youth. In the winter of that year, the army temporarily began to recruit again. The pages of handwriting in my memory suddenly set off huge waves in my heart, and I did not hesitate to report to the brigade, and my name, Wencheng, was written down by them and printed into the roster of early winter.
This time, I didn't leave my flaws with fate. My father was strict and asked me to wait quietly at home for the day of the medical examination. On the day of the check-up, my brother accompanied me to make sure that I could succeed in the competition.
In the end, this medical examination turned into a battle that I could not hinder. The social surveys and home visits that followed were just a non-fictional statement of my life background. In the cold winter wind, I received a letter of enlistment, and its weight weighed over the restlessness I had felt in the middle of the night.
The time jump allows us to skip the bumps and discomfort of riding in a stuffy tank truck, and the arduous training and renailing of the recruit company, because in the end, those years are just a long prologue for me, like the silence before dawn.
After the recruit company, I was assigned to the 2nd platoon and 5th squad, and I had two recruit partners, a comrade-in-arms from the city was very favored, his family was rich, his mouth was sweet, and the squad leader was coaxed to be happy. And I, with another comrade-in-arms who was new to Chinese, could only stand stupidly, occasionally echoing, like the ** grass in the corner.
The canteen of the troops is a temple of the gods for each of us. Although cabbage and radish dominate the menu on the screen, it always fills us up. There is also a weekly special - that fatty pork and cabbage bun, which allows me to experience the ultimate luxury of the military version. I can't forget the four big and heavy buns I ate when I was a recruit, and satisfaction and happiness blended in my heart.
But when it comes to army life, it's a huge melting pot. No matter where you come from or what habits you bring with you, you are all part of the equation when you come here. But my taciturn personality is a little difficult to gain a foothold in such an environment. Like a shadow of neglect, I silently experienced growing pains in the corners of the army.
I remember one time when I stood guard and missed lunch, and I still can't forget the feeling of hunger. Standing guard is an inevitable task for every comrade-in-arms. Even if I am extremely skilled in military posture, I cannot counteract the torture of hunger.
After changing the guard, he came to the canteen hungry, but he had no choice but to miss the ration. My comrades left, and I was alone, panicked. What to do? I wandered in my mind: should I go to the cooking class, or report to the class leader? However, my shyness eventually made me choose to remain silent, and I suppressed my uneasiness with the thought of "what's wrong with skipping a meal".
But what I didn't expect was the cost of missing a meal in the troops—exhaustion poured in, and the five-kilometre march became extremely difficult in the midst of hunger. Despite my best efforts to hide it, the hunger in my body kept reminding me like a firm gong beater.
At dusk, tiredness and the emptiness in my stomach made me have almost no desire for dinner. I ate silently, but I felt an indescribable loneliness in my heart, because no one noticed my strangeness.
In the years that followed, I continued to hone myself in the army, as usual. Five years later, I ended my military career and left with the mark of youth. When I returned to my hometown, I became a farmer, and my days went back and forth like annual rings, but I never found the drive and passion of my youth.
Until now, I am already old, but this short period of military life is getting more and more mellow as alcohol. I often sit on the rocking chair in the old house, watching my little grandson frolicking and running in the yard, and my eyes are more worried than gentle. His character, like when I was younger, was stubborn and obscure.
I once tried to use my story as a seed of wisdom to sow in his heart, hoping that he would learn from it. But when I talked about the pain of missing the cafeteria, he asked me, "Grandpa, why don't you try to cook for yourself?" "This question, like a small pebble, was thrown into the calm water of the lake, causing ripples. I smiled and was silent, because I knew that times had changed, and the way children thought was very different from ours.
In that chaotic background outlined by the years, simple but ordinary. In Shi Tiesheng's writing, every soul has its own meaning of existence, and every memory has its inevitability. Let these gentle words gently wrap this past of mine, and let it sleep peacefully in the hotbed of words until the early morning of the next reincarnation.
Here, I also leave everything I feel and understand in this shadowy past, hoping that people who are destined can find some resonance from it.