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发帖数: 461 | 1 Three days later, I got an address from my dad. I didn’t know where he got
that address. Did he just randomly grab a person on the street and asked for
his or her address? It was an address for someone lives in the public
housing of Changhong electric factory. I immediately realized my dad's
intention. He wanted me to interview a factory worker. Few of those workers
had good educations. They almost spent their whole life in the factory. The
factory had its own dinning places. The factory provided them with public
housing, shops, and even a school for their children. The pollution in the
factory was so bad. Every day, everybody had their face covered with dusts.
They all looked the same. There is no way that these workers can have an
extraordinary life. But to me, it was still easy and I know I would be
inspired. On a Sunday, I took a bus and arrived the apartment with that
address. Hesitated for a moment, I knocked at the door. It was a mid-aged
woman who opened the door. It was a good sign. It would be easy for me to
get connected with a woman. “Are you looking for someone?”“I am a high-
school student. Here is my student ID, and my national ID. I was given an
assignment to interview someone, and write a story about this person. I am
not sure if you will allow me to interview you. I will be very appreciative.
”“Oh..What a surprise. It has been quite a few years since my last time
being interviewed. Come in, please.”“So, someone interviewed you before?”
“Yes. But it was a long time ago.”She must be an extraordinary person. I
felt like winning a lottery: “Dad, you must haven't realized that you
actually gave me an easy assignment.” After I entered the room, I found
that it was the filthiest place I ever visited. It was a tiny studio
apartment. The grey dusts on the wall had covered its original color. There
was a small couch, which was too dirty to tell the color. I clenched her
teeth to sit on that couch.After I sat down, I couldn’t wait to ask her: “
So you said, you were interviewed before. May I ask what are the reasons of
those interviews?”“I used to be a writer.” She looked a little
embarrassed. “What did you write?” I was intrigued. “Just several books.
I am sure you never heard about them. My favorite one as "Along the Moon
River".”“Along the Moon River? That is one of my favorite novels. Are you
Cai, Ming? I am one of your biggest fans. I collected all your books.”
Along the Moon River was one of my favorite books. It was about a young girl
who had a humble beginning and managed to finish college. My eagerness to
go to a college was very much stimulated by that book. I had imaged Cai,
Ming in my head a million of times. She should be tall and have a round face
. Her eyes should be able to speak. But she definitely shouldn’t be this
middle aged woman standing awkwardly infront of me. Because of what I said,
Ms. Cai blushed and said: “It is embarrassing to mention the past. I am not
the old Cai, Ming. I am just a retired worker now.” “What happened?” I
was so curious about her life. “...What what happened?” No longer a writer
, she was still sensitive. She smelled the negative tone in my voice. “...I
mean why give up writing?”“...I started to write stories when I was at
your age. I published my first book when I was 18. After a few years, I run
out of ideas. People need food on their tables. I needed to find a job. Then
I found a job in this factory. The job was getting busier...”Suddenly, our
conversation was interrupted by someone who was calling outside: eggs for
sale, eggs for sale.Ms. Cai said: would you please excuse me, I need to buy
some eggs for dinner.I said: “I will go with you, if you don't mind.” I
wanted to observe her, since I still had to write something about her. When
we went outside, I saw a man holding a basket. Inside the basket, there were
many broken eggs, with chicken wastes on their shells. I told Ms. Cai: “
Don't buy those, they are broken.” Ms. Cai grinned: “If they are not
broken, how can they be so cheap?” I blushed and felt that I was too na&#
239;ve.
After we returned to the apartment, I started again to ask her about her
reasons to quit writing. Ms. Cai seemed to be very frankly.“It is not an
unusual thing for writers to quit writing. The income from writing was not
enough. Some of us, who had important relationships, found jobs in
government agencies. Government jobs are always the best jobs, which ensure
good life. Some, who had no relationships, just like me, found jobs in
factories. Most of us had to give up writing. Material foundation is
critical for living.”“Why? I thought people can make a good fortune out of
writing.”“You are too young. I got around 1,000 yuan for each book I
published, which was only enough for a year. That was not stable income. Now
, everybody worships money. Nobody loves arts anymore. We are no longer
needed by the society.”“Why not continue to write after you worked in the
factory? You can write for yourself.”“I have no inspirations anymore.”
Didn’t inspiration just come through the air? I was about to ask her why
she had no inspirations. However, there was another interruption. Someone
was calling outside: Cheap vegetables..Cheap vegetables. Ms. Cai stood up in
a hurry: “If you excuse me, I have to get some vegetables.”I had no
courage to follow her. I can image what kind of vegetables that they were
selling. It suddenly occurred to me that it must be the lack of nutrients,
which are most vital for our body and brain. Her body was starving, so was
her mind. This realization hit me like a cold water splash. This must have
been a tough decision for her: Feed which one first? Body or soul?When I
left Ms. Cai's home, I felt that my feet were as stiff as lead bars, and my
heart was as heavy as a metal ball. I didn't take bus, and just walked back
to home. Each of my steps was heavy, since I felt like being walking away
from my dreams. I guess what my dad wanted was for me to confront the
reality, the ice cold reality.
After I went back home, I didn't talk with my dad. He just sat in the living
room and smoked. I went to my bed, put on my Walkman and played my favorite
music: classic violin. I always felt that the violin instrument looked like
a saw, and its music can saw my heart. My tears were running out of my eyes
quietly. A part of me died and it was dancing like a Phoenix, waiting for a
reborn. My dad never mentioned one word again about this assignment.The
last two years in high-school were really stressful for every high-school
students. I studied hard. I needed to go to a college, and stay far away
from my home. Wenyan also needed to go to college, which was supposed to be
a stepping stone for her success. Huaqing worked the hardest, but she couldn
't improve her grades.
I always knew that my dad wanted me to go to Sichuan University to study the
engineer. He thought that the government started to emphasize on building
cities. Engineers are needed by the society. I don’t care too much about
the major, since all the science majors sounded equally boring. But I cannot
comprise with the location of my future school. I needed to get away from
Chendu. I finally chose North Industry University to study cartographic
engineering. Wenyan also registered the same school, as well as Huaqing,
though Huaqing selected an associated degree instead of a bachelor's degree.
Wenyan left the major unselected, which would increase her chance to get
into the university. The university would pick one for her, and usually they
would pick some majors which nobody liked. China is such a big country. But
the ideas were rather uniform. Back in 1994, nobody liked geology.
Therefore, Wenyan were admitted to study geology. Huaqing were admitted to
study computer science.I can barely remember anything about that summer. I
was reading for the entire summer. Wenyan was working in a restaurant to
earn some money and Huaqing was shopping most of the time. We were seldom
together. That summer passed within a blink until we boarded on a train to
Beijng. Time slowed down. Ahead of us was Beijing, a city full of excitement
, and...discrimination. We had never been to Beijing.
On the train, Wenyan and Huaqing were discussing how Beijing would look like
and how our campus would look like. I remained quiet and didn’t really
care what my campus can give to me. I needed nothing from it. But the first
time I saw my campus. I fell in love with it. Every day in school, I loved
it more. I watched the leaves of a lot of trees turning red and flowers
became fruits. Each day, I had to pass by two maple trees to go to class
room. One day, I suddenly realized that they were waiving their 'hands'. It
was not an illusion. I can tell. They were waiving to me to say hello. I
noticed that their gestures were changing every day. Sometime, they were
happy, and sometime they were moody. They were so sensitive and deserved a
human name. I called them Huanhuan, and Peipei. Based on the responses of
these two trees, I knew that these names were agreeable to them. They told
me that they felt lonely too, so I would bring a book and sit beside these
two trees to read.A lot of books that I read were about symbols, since I was
a cartographic engineer major. I never draw and I never needed symbols. I
often thought: why do we need symbols? Words are powerful enough to describe
everything. Why do we need to represent things in an abstract way?Later, I
realized that symbols were not only useful, but also meaningful. No matter
how good or how bad a person was, on a map, this person was just a point.
Aren't we just points? No matter how close we are, we can never have
interceptions. No matter how much we seemed to be overlapped with each other
, when you zoomed in, you can always see gaps.
There was no place for disguise, and no place for inequity on a map. In the
cartographic world, everything was equal and precise. Everything located at
where they belonged. The map was always an assurance or a confirmation of
their existence, so they won't be forgotten. Everything has a justified
occupancy of the space, not like us, having no place to hide our injured
pride. Maps were peaceful, and I sometimes wanted to jump into maps.It
seemed now that my fight with my dad about the major choices was silly.
Maybe all the arguments were silly, since maybe nothing really matters, not
even ourselves. The glory we had was as bright as a meteoroid, but so
momentary. When it burned up, it was just dusts.
Maybe all the arguments were not silly. Maybe everything matters, even
dusty meteoroids. Without meteoroids, the sky is no longer sky. We need
those sparks in the sky to bring us mystery. We just need to wait here with
happy anticipations. Maybe, one day, at some place, a meteoroid will
bring a real miracle, which ends our suffering. We just looked at the
sky like curious children, and asked what is beyond the sky. Maybe we are
not alone. In the universe, maybe there are other living beings just as
lonely as us. Our wondrous minds never rest. |
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