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墨書 Inktalez
The series of dangerous events left my mother and grandmother anxious, fearing that I might follow in someone else's footsteps and leave them behind. However, they had no time to keep an eye on me, and there were no older siblings at home to help watch over me.
At this moment, my father's work location changed. Although he was still in the more remote Suining Mountainous Area, it was now closer to home at Temple Bay Commune Middle School, only sixty miles away. If we walked, it would take most of the day to get there, unlike before when he was in Lianmin, where it took two days of hurried travel to return home.
In the second semester of his teaching at Temple Bay, during the summer, my father decided to take me along to his school, marking my first journey in life. It was a sunny morning when the two of us set off after breakfast. We divided the sixty-mile journey into three segments:
The first stretch is from Zhu Shan Bay to Li Family Ferry Crossing, about five or six miles. Perhaps to prevent me from feeling afraid, or maybe due to the excitement of taking his child on a trip for the first time, my dad didn’t let me walk on my own but instead carried me on his shoulders, striding forward at a brisk pace.
This route was one we often took when visiting relatives at Aunt's house, but after passing Changtangchong, when we reached the stone slab bridge by the Canal, Dad didn’t turn left as usual. Instead, he headed right towards the Suspended Stone, avoiding the place I had once said was “haunted,” and crossed onto the wide gravel road, jogging until we reached Li Family Ferry Crossing.
At Li Family Ferry Crossing, I saw many people by the roadside for the first time. Curiously slipping down from Dad's shoulders, I headed toward a small storefront on the street, widening my eyes to get a better look at the items displayed on the counter. Dad held my little hand as we walked forward, greeting acquaintances along the way.
Before long, my dad managed to find a ride, and he took me along. In my mind, I couldn't tell whether the vehicle was a car or a tractor. It was loaded with sweet potato vines, and I sat among the vines. As the vehicle started moving, the wind brushed against my face, cool and pleasant. Unfortunately, while it brought us this refreshing breeze, it also blew away my dad's straw hat. We sat in the trailer, shouting for the driver to hear us, but that hat was lost forever.
The next stretch was the longest and most difficult. From Youlan Commune to Temple Bay Middle School, it was about thirty to forty miles of mountain roads. My dad had to either hold me or carry me while avoiding the thorns that occasionally reached into the road and jumping over protruding rocks, which was quite exhausting.
It was my first time seeing mountains so different from those at home, and my childlike curiosity overshadowed all fatigue. I often wriggled free from my dad's grasp and ran swiftly along the mountain paths, chasing after the dancing insects by the roadside. Every half hour or so, I would dash to a resting spot for travelers, bend down, and drink deeply from a small pool formed by the mountain spring.
In my opinion, this whole journey has been a pleasant one, but in my dad's eyes, it's not entirely the case. According to his recollection: I hardly walked much on my own; most of the time, I was riding on his shoulders. After we finished this several dozen miles of mountain road, he suffered from back pain for quite a while. He even lost his sun hat on the way and had to make a temporary one from tree branches and vines to avoid sunburn.
Because of me, our speed couldn't be too fast. When the sun was about to set, we finally arrived at our destination, Temple Bay Middle School. I stayed in this completely different environment for about half a month, and a few things deeply stuck in my memory.
The school is built on a slightly gentle slope, with a range of rolling mountains behind it and a small hill in front. Across a small river is the location of the Commune in Temple Bay. Looking at the densely packed houses, there are many more than our entire platoon. We have nine production teams and over a dozen courtyards.
The school has a spacious playground that is always occupied as long as it doesn't rain. Students start exercising before dawn, and throughout the morning and afternoon, there are always people playing basketball or engaging in games. After dinner, the playground seems to be reserved for the teachers, who chat or play basketball there.
Next to the school is a small hill, which is actually connected to the mountains behind it. The teachers and students built a large round tank using wood and bamboo on the hill to collect spring water. They connected bamboo segments through the center to channel the water to the school's kitchen and other necessary places. This simple device provided running water to the school hidden deep in the mountains, while many county towns still had to fetch water manually at that time. The only inconvenience was that during heavy rain, the water in the large tank would become muddy and yellow, forcing teachers and students to carry buckets to draw water from a deep well for daily use.
A small river separates the school from the courtyard across from it, but in my eyes, this river appears so wide that it seems even larger than the Tiao Shui River at Li Family Ferry Crossing. A wooden bridge connects both banks, but there are no railings on either side. Walking on it feels unsteady, and if one looks down at the water, many would be frightened and feel their legs go weak.
Dad forbids me to play on the bridge alone, but a child's curiosity is hard to resist. I still sneak up to the bridge every now and then, although I'm a little afraid of the water and dare not go near the edge or peek at the river below. I just go up to feel the breeze and haven't caused any trouble.
Living with Dad at the school, even though it was a time of scarce resources, I enjoyed many delicious foods I had never eaten before. Two of them left a lasting impression on me:
One is the fish and shrimp from the river. Dad had a colleague, a young teacher who later became the county party secretary and vice chairman of the municipal CPPCC. He was the son of the platoon secretary nearby and was especially good at catching fish. He liked to play with me and often caught fish for me to eat, asking me to call him "godfather." Unfortunately, because I was tempted by the peaches and pears from the butcher in my hometown, I had already given the title of "godfather" away early on, so I could only call him "Wan Wan."
Another ingredient is the bark of the Neem tree. My skin is prone to allergies; whether it's from insect bites or just contact with certain grasses, I always end up with frightening little bumps that take a long time to fade. My mom, grandma, and great-grandma have inquired everywhere and tried many folk remedies, but nothing has worked effectively.
This time, I don't know where Dad got the recipe, but he said that boiling Neem tree bark in water and drinking it has remarkable effects. So, I indulged a bit and bought half a pound of fine meat at the Food Station, then peeled a bunch of Neem tree bark by the roadside and simmered it all together for me to consume.
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