Yongqing, never clear

Life is not only about the present, but also about poetry and distance. But if you can't even live in front of your life, how can you talk about poetry and distance? In my life, there is an intolerable road in front of the school.

I remember that twenty years ago, this road was not called a highway. It has a more intimate name Road. In my memory, the road was paved with solid mud and stone. There are calcined coal shavings in the nearby iron factory, which are dumped on the road and spread evenly. When I stepped on it, there was a broken sound of rustling. On both sides of the road are rows of tall plane trees and low houses. Seen from above, it looks like a graceful skirt that runs through the ancient town of Yongqing. One end is connected to Anyue County, which is 20 kilometers away, and the other is connected to several more remote villages, such as Qianlong, Gaosheng, Hengmiao and so on. Every morning, the teacher led our class to run on this road, facing the morning light of the east and the cool morning breeze, everyone shouted neat chants, sonorous footsteps and the whispers of coal shavings under their feet. it is full of the memory of the youth.

However, today's road has become so strange and disgusting! Three steps a small depression, five steps a big pit. The traffic is like a crucian carp crossing the river. On a sunny day, the sky was dusty and muddy water splashed with rain. Is this still the amiable road I remember? I don't recognize you. Where's your neatness and simplicity? Where is your modesty and reserve? I know you carry too much unspeakable pain, just like an old and sick mother!

We know your grievance. You tell me with violent bumps; you tell me with splashing muddy water; you tell me with tears in your sunken eyes; you tell my child with haze all over the sky that the mother is ill! Help me! But there's nothing we can do. We can only tell our zf what you wish. But he can't seem to hear us. Maybe he's not your son. Maybe you, and us, are just his slaves.

After waiting for many years, the government finally gave an answer, saying that it would not begin to treat your illness until the Guandaoqiao Reservoir in Hengmiao was completed. Because you are afraid that the rolling of the cart will hurt your body again during the construction of the reservoir. It's so ridiculous that they don't intend to cure you completely to the extent that a slightly heavier burden will leave you unharmed.

Finally, the opportunity has come. It is said that some of the leaders above are going to check the work. Zf is afraid that you will tell the leaders with bumps and muddy water in the language you once told us, which is almost inevitable. So, quickly, an ambulance full of pebbles came to treat your body. You smiled a wry smile, and your potholed body was temporarily filled up. You are devastated and sped by the leaders.

But, mother's road, you tell your children with greater anger that your mother is getting sicker! Whenever cars run over your body, the rubble scattered on the road is stirred up by the wheels, like angry bullets hitting passing children and roadside shops. Aah! It hurts! The child clutched his shoulder hit by the rubble. The glass door of the store collapsed.

But this zf, whose eyes are facing the head of the sky, has never seen the road under his feet. Where can they hear the cries of the fart people, where can they see the tears of their mother's grievances? Where can I hear grief and indignation?

Mom, I am one of your incompetent children, I am an ordinary Chinese teacher in the school next to you. I am not afraid to speak these angry words. What I am worried about is that my students will one day be hurt by your haze all over their young hearts and lungs and hit their weak bodies by your angry bullets. I know. You didn't mean it, mom. Just like my old grandmother with dementia once viciously cursed her children and grandchildren.

I hate my incompetence, mom. I can't ease even the slightest pain for you. I hate myself more than I have no right, mom. I can't be like those zf officials broadcast on CCTV News, thinking about their people and saving you from fire and water. But I am your people. I want to raise my voice and urge those in power who are supposed to be your people, not emperors, to show their sincerity to serve the people, to put on new clothes for you truly and thoroughly, and to make you youthful!