The first paper. Author: Geng Quanhui
A flaming gobi Desert melon smells in August 1960. My father borrowed two hundred dollars from the company and sent it to a girl he had never met.
That year, my mother was less than 20 years old, with 200 yuan, came to the 84th Regiment of the Fifth Division of the Xinjiang Regiment from Jiangsu alone. There was food, work, and a man waiting to marry her.
1
They met for the first time in the company yard. His father was eager to help his mother with the luggage, but she held the bundle tightly and would not give it to him.
“I can’t see how strong the little girl is. The facial features are still regular, raise fat will look better.” “The father thought.
Mother sneak eyes to see his father, and quickly lower his head, she pulled the instructor wife’s dress corner, whispered: “I see, can.”
Years later, as our family talked about this meeting, I asked my father and my mother, “What was it like to meet for the first time?”
The father said, “What happened to me? Ugly, and love to drink and smoke. Only a silly woman like your mother would marry me.”
His mother said, “Though he is ugly, he speaks softly and sounds like a gentle man.” Slowly, she added: “Anyway is to marry people in Xinjiang, marry who is married.”
The wedding was scheduled to take place on National Day, but when the pre-marriage examination took place, my mother’s health was in some condition. The doctor’s verdict: “Not for the time being.”
In the xinjiang Regiment in the early 1960s, there were more men than women, and when a girl came, dozens of pairs of bachelors immediately stared at him. If a girl doesn’t marry as soon as possible, she may not become someone’s wife in the end.
My father was so worried that he had blisters on his lips, but my mother was not. She had just arrived in Xinjiang, and everything was fresh. She has a job and a salary of 24 yuan a month.
To my mother, Xinjiang was so big that the land could not be seen as far as the border. If there was water and land, food could be grown and there was no need to starve. “Every meal is steamed and eaten as many as you want, which is what you dare to think in your hometown in Jiangsu.”
Now his father often makes fun of him: “Although your mother can’t read, she has an ideal. When she was just married, she often said that if only she could eat a bowl of hand-rolled noodles every day in her life. Her dream is to eat hand-rolled noodles for the rest of her life.
With nutrition, the mother quickly rosy, three months of time, the original thin yellow hair tied into braids. The plait in the back of the head swing ah swing, I do not know how many people’s eyes swing.
Someone started introducing her to someone new. The other root is red seedling, or the team leader of the team. In the age of underdeveloped transportation, no matter the cadres or the masses in the regiment, the car leader was required to take a foot to help.
How could you marry an ugly woman when you are so pretty? Marry with him, give birth to the child all grow ugly, in the future the child get married find object all difficulty, you zha look up in front of everybody.”
More someone in front of the instructor wife cuanduo: “let him dial the abacus to calculate, take her to Xinjiang spent how much money, after he.”
The fire was burning in his heart, but his face was neither humble nor haughty. He said with a smile, “I came to Xinjiang to seek a happy life. If I marry her, she will decide by herself.
The instructor wife said to her mother: “this person looks ugly but honest duty, people gentle, marry such a person all his life not suffer.”
Then, if anyone speaks ill of his father, his mother will ignore him. Have other men to express their feelings, the mother will ridicule: “you zha not early say? I have an object you say, into the heart of me is not it?”
2
Mother working company from the regiment has 12 or 13 kilometers of road, do a marriage certificate that day, the father borrowed the instructor’s bicycle, took the mother to get a marriage certificate.
After riding most of the way, my mother loved my father dearly and asked myself to walk. So my father pushed ahead and my mother followed.
As far as the eye could see, the fields were full of golden rape flowers. My father folded a big bundle and stuffed it into my mother’s arms. Originally one after two people, slowly, side by side walk together. Suddenly, a mouse ran to the feet of his mother, mother scared grabbed his father’s clothes…
The wedding was a piece of cake. A large pot of chicken, a large pot of lamb, a large pot of pork stew noodles, plus four bottles of wine, make up two tables.
Speaking of the wedding years later, my father was still very excited. “The other day, after the lights went out, I asked your mother if you were satisfied with my present situation and our family.
Mother did not get out of the carriage that day. She felt herself in the carriage as if she had been married again. Mother did not get out of the carriage that day. She felt herself in the carriage as if she had been married again.
“Your mother didn’t even think about it. She said she was satisfied. You know, under those conditions, a woman would be happy to marry a chain smoker, drunk and ugly, and there wouldn’t be another in the world but your mother.”
On the third day of their marriage, they went to work together in the big fields on the Gobi Desert. An employee joked with my mother, “Did you know he was a chain smoker, alcoholic, and ugly before you got married?”
His mother readily replied: “I married him, not tobacco and alcohol and his ugly, which still care about his smokers, drunkard and ugly.”
The questioner was speechless, but his father, who was working beside him, was moved to tears. After that, he never smoked again and never touched alcohol again.
3
Their married life is very poor, repeated eating potatoes, lotus white, cabbage, radish days.
Meat only in the company to kill pigs and sheep can be divided into a catty half catty, a little big meat, mother left to his father, father gave to his mother, two people push to push, finally the father had to bite off a piece, and then put the rest into the mother’s mouth.
Within three months of their marriage, my father was transferred to the new frontier company. They checked out their belongings and some of their friends came to help. But there was nothing to help.
Two beds, a few books, a few stools, POTS and pans, were all put together to make half a carriage. Before we set out, my father put a bundle of straw on the wagon and let my mother sit on it.
It was said to be the first snow of the winter. Tamarisk, Achnatherum splendens, Achnatherum splendens, ash bar and the road under your feet, all turn white.
It was more than twenty kilometres to the headquarters of the Pioneer Company. Father told the groom to go slowly. He said the road was slippery with snow and safety was the first priority. He was always looking at my mother, at her bright black braids, at the red blue trousers she wore at her wedding.
The carriage, dragging all their possessions, slowly moved through the snow. On the way, my father sang a Hunan huagu opera, “Firewood in the Banghai”.
“Sister Hu, you’re coming with me –“
“Brother Hai, lead the way –” his mother continued to sing, and when they had finished they laughed, with the snow-covered gobi behind them.
“In fact,” my mother had said to me, “I don’t want to ride in a carriage at all. My arms and legs are almost frozen. I’d rather walk briskly and warmly by myself.”
But mother didn’t get out of the carriage that day. She felt herself in the carriage as if she had been married again.
4
There are even more than 50 families in the wasteland, all living in dens. It is one of those houses which are half underground, and which are very convenient to build — a great pit is dug in the ground, a wall is put up for a door, and the top is made of sticks, and covered with straw and mud.
They made a bed out of clods, and the clods formed a two-story bedside table, with combs, dental bowls, a small mirror, a few books in the middle, and a canvas suitcase for clothes. A new home was thus settled.
There is no well drilled in the field, but the water in the channel is eaten. Dig a big hole in the side of the channel, let the water out of the channel, precipitate it for a few days, then beat it back, boil it and eat it. Leaves often floated on the water, grass grew under the water, and in summer there were insects and toads of all kinds.
The ranches had no electricity, so they spent their nights counting stars and lighting diesel lamps. The lamp is his mother to do, the jar for the lamp, gauze wick, lit up every night, the mother will do needlework under the lamp.
After a busy day’s work, my father checked the fire safety of each house, and returned home to repair various farm tools. Sometimes he read, too, to his mother, who worked by the light.
The next spring, when my mother was pregnant, my father took her to the county town.
They did two things. First, they cut their mother’s hair into the fashionable short hair, which was both energetic and beautiful. Second, we took a group photo in the photo studio.
It was the first and only photo of them, and it still hangs on the wall of my house. It’s been 22 years since my mother left us, but my father still stands in front of this photo, watching in silence.
The second article. Author: Muzi
In 1979, when my father was 22, he returned home from the army and went on numerous blind dates, none of them successful.
It didn’t work out for two reasons. First, my grandmother made a name for herself locally as a bully. The other was my father’s fight. He was known as a crooked (fierce) man. So, despite his appearance as one of the few high school students and veterans in the village, the girls recoiled.
My mother was the second oldest in the family, and had an elder brother. Because my uncle had not married yet, my mother’s marriage had been delayed, and in a flash it had gone through twenty heads. Grandma decided not to follow the old custom and started to set up a blind date for her. But they didn’t see eye to eye.
1
On that day, my mother went to town on a blind date, but she couldn’t hurry up and sent word to change the appointment. She was about to go home when an old man next to her stopped her and said, “Girl, I see you have a blessed face. You are a blessed person…” Mother is simple, a conversation down, almost put their own birth day and eight words out.
That day my father was in town on a blind date, but still no success. An old man walking around grabbed my father and recommended a girl he had just met. She was my mother.
His father was always so clean. He asked his name and home address, and without saying a word rode his bicycle straight to the village.
At the time, my mother was at home alone, facing suddenly in front of her young man, she was confused. My father, unperturbed, held his bicycle, straightened his back, and introduced himself and expressed his intention in a loud voice.
“How did you feel about my dad?”
The mother’s mouth raised, “Hey hey, on the cogitate took a look, did not dare to look closely, think this man is really tall ah, grow really good-looking, voice also pleasant to hear, courage is also very big. It’s ok anyway!”
My father stood waiting for a few minutes, but when my mother didn’t raise her head to answer, he asked, “This is what happened to me. What do you think? Or not?”
“My mother is not at home. She will come back in the evening. She must listen to her and watch her.”
“That good, next 10 o ‘clock, see on old street aperture, line still not line, at that time answer.” After that, my father got on his bicycle and started to walk. My mother thought, “Hey, wait a minute. It’s a long way.
She did not dare to let the strange man in or invite him to lunch, so she took two stools to the courtyard, poured a cup of boiling water, and then hurried out to buy a bowl of corn jelly.
At that time, there was a shortage of materials. The bowl of jelly was 3 cents. My mother deliberately gave 2 cents more, asking the seller to put more jelly and add more seasoning.
Father took the jelly, sighed: “Delicious!”
“I can do it, too! The words finished, the mother felt wrong, a moment of shame red face.
2
They want to get married, but my grandmother won’t let them. She couldn’t accept my father’s promise of 150 yuan as a bride price.
My father served in the army for three years, and the total withdrawal fee was only more than 90 yuan. Earlier, my third father married his third mother for only 50 yuan. Even a few years later, when my third father married his youngest mother, he only spent 60 yuan as a bride price.
Grandma hesitated.
My grandfather was a sailor, not only got a salary, but also could do some speculating and profiting business in the upstream and downstream, so the conditions at home were good and my mother had every chance to find a better husband’s family. When I heard that my mother wanted to marry my father, many old people in the village came to dissuade her: “If not, don’t make a fool of yourself. How can you jump from rice to chaff?”
My grandmother brought a relative with her on her first field trip to my father’s house. The relative looked at the wheat seedlings that were no higher than calves and shook his head vigorously. “Sister-in-law, I can’t, because the crops cannot grow in the fields here, because they are too poor!” “And my grandmother after the official” move “, relatives shake the head more fierce, “no, this old woman is a fierce role, too crooked, married to be sure to suffer.
But my grandmother finally respected my mother’s choice. The 150 yuan bride price, the grandmother left nothing, bought the cupboard, wardrobe, boxes, cotton, clothes, rice, noodles and other things, gave my mother to do the dowry.
So my mother went from her mother’s family, who ate white rice and noodles, to her husband’s family, who didn’t have enough corn paste to eat.
3
At that time, there were three younger brothers and sisters under my father, and the whole extended family lived together.
Newly married, my mother excitedly soaked two bowls of old corn to make jelly for my father to eat, but was scolded by my grandma, “Waste food, don’t know how to keep house!”
Hearing this, the father came and interrupted his grandmother’s diatribe. He bravely made the jelly with his trembling wife. But they did not dare to think of any more condiments, and the only condiment was salt water in the pickle jar.
That night, my father’s three younger brothers and sisters ate happily, but my mother’s tears kept rolling in her eyes.
Maybe a bowl of jelly is love itself. Maybe a bowl of jelly is love itself.
At night my mother hid herself in her room and cried, for she felt that she had not made a bowl of jelly. Second, she finally realized that she was entitled to dowry items only in name, but in the hands of my grandmother.
He entered the house, gave her a roast sweet potato like a gift, and wiped her tears.
My mother sobbed, “I’m not wasting anything.”
“I know.”
“Salt water mixed with jelly is not good.”
“Everything you cook tastes good.”
“The jelly noodles should be served with fermented black bean sauce, chili oil, Chinese prickly ash, garlic, soy sauce and vinegar.”
“Well, it will get better and better in the future, you can put any kind of seasoning you want!”
4
A year later, my brother was born.
On the edge of the river in the winter months, my father wore wellies and squatted happily in front of a blue SLATE, washing diapers and women’s clothes. Provoke around the daughter-in-law aunt, a burst of laughter.
Grandma felt no face, all kinds of obstruction, father still regardless of, so grandma hands akimbo, standing in the yard shouted: “Shame ah, the face of the ancestors have been lost, where a man to wash clothes…… Which of us doesn’t wash, cook, and do our own chores? She’s the only one who’s precious, young lady…”
The harsh words pierced the rough walls, and the mother, dragging her frail body after childbirth, sat up in bed in tears. Father hung up the clothes, went in, and closed the door. He rubbed his hands, which had been chilled by the river water, and breathed on them as he did so. Then he took his coat and gave it to his mother.
“It’s all right, it’s all right. Just pretend you didn’t hear anything. Don’t take it to heart. People say confinement can not be angry, to be happy, otherwise you will fall ill. I’ll do it if I want to, if I want to, no one can help me…”
His mother touched his cold hand, and the tears rolled out again.
Later, the third mother secretly said to my mother: “The sister-in-law, the second brother to you very good. When I was in confinement, my husband came back from the field and saw that a basin of clothes had not been washed. He kicked the basin away and the clothes were lying all over the place. Not to mention feeding me something to cook alone…” Said, three mother’s eyes red.
At the end of her tether, my grandma adjusted her strategy and asked my father to go abroad to learn craft from his master. Thought of the future to face the grandmother alone, the mother’s heart hung up, several times to the mouth, and in the grandmother harsh eyes swallowed back.
After much deliberation, my father finally made up his mind. Against all the pressure, he insisted on separating from his extended family amid my grandmother’s cries and scolding.
My mother hugged my brother and cried with joy — she had finally given up looking at her grandmother and was free to control the food her family had brought her.
5
After my brother was one month old, the master began to urge my father to go out.
The day before leaving, my mother insisted on making my father a meal of corn jelly with the family’s limited resources. That day, standing under the eaves, my father turned the small stone mill round and round, while my mother silently added water and soaked corn to the mill. Then, filter, precipitate, boil and stir.
My mother sat in front of the hearth, fiddling with the firewood in the stove, her face glowing red with the red flame, while my father held the spatula and stirred vigorously. What they say is nothing but gossip.
The mother stood up, stared at the bubbling jelly, and said, “All right, ready to go!” But just as she spoke, a big hole burst in the bottom of the pot.
My father just had time to grab the bowl at his hand and ladle a bowl into a boiling pot. Then the rest of the jelly came rushing down the big hole into the wood stove with my mother’s screams. Mother finally found the perfect excuse and cried.
My parents’ romance
In the evening, my mother sliced the last bowl of jelly, mixed it with the seasonings she had made up and put it in front of my father.
He pushed the bowl toward him. “You have some, too.”
“She pushed the bowl back.” I still want to feed the baby. I dare not eat spicy food.”
He set aside the chili oil and dipped it into the soy sauce separately, “so it’s not spicy and you can eat it.”
She mixed the whole bowl of jelly and dipped each piece in chili oil. “I like spicy food,” she said. “Only when the jelly is spicy can I eat it.
“Later, you want to do to eat, do not loath, I will send money back.”
“Well.”
“Buy whatever you want to put in it.”
“Well.”
“My mother is that temper, but she is still my mother, you don’t take it to heart.”
“Well.”
“Don’t try to be brave, just ask your neighbors for help and dinner.”
“Well.”
…
The next morning, my father set foot on the road to go out to study and work. Diligent, educated and intellectually active, he soon earned his wages. The day in the home is good, the mother makes the sauce of jelly also rich rise.
His father finally fulfilled his original promise — “You can put any condiment!”
Later, machines took the place of millstones, and all kinds of ready-made powders were sold on the market. However, homemade corn jelly has an irreplaceable position in my family. Whenever the whole family get together, parents always want to make a big pot, let us eat a comfortable.
Perhaps because it witnessed their first meeting; Perhaps it is because it is in the memory of their hard past; Maybe a bowl of jelly is love itself.
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