The mute old man did four things in his life - adoption, ferrying, bombing the bridge, donating money (or repairing the bridge)

Attached is the original text——

Mute Ferry (Excerpt)

My childhood was woven with bamboo and river water. My home is hidden in a bamboo forest. Not far from my home, there is a ferry. The ferryman is a skinny old mute man. The folks call this place the dumb ferry.

No one knows how old the mute is and how many years he has been ferrying here. In the first memory of every person who crosses the river, the mute old man looks like this: a face full of wrinkles, deep eyes, a lame leg, and a pair of thick, calloused hands that have been used for countless years.

But the mute old man’s boat was always clean and fresh. The sides of the boat were polished brightly and shone with tung oil, which looked nothing like his wrinkled face. The mute old man's boat moved quickly and steadily. No matter it was day or night, as long as he shouted from the shore, he would come out of the cabin and steadily send the people crossing the river to the other side. In spring, summer, autumn and winter, he would never intermittent. Those who cross the river here don’t have to worry about delaying their journey.

The mute old man is lonely. I heard someone said that he once had a daughter named Yaya, who was picked up from the river. He raised her up bite by bite with rice soup. When she grew up and was about to become a mother, she unfortunately died in childbirth. From then on, the mute old man became even more lonely. No one would notice him, he was too ordinary and insignificant, and people seemed to have forgotten about him.

The river flows day after day, year after year, and the mute old man silently swings the boat over and crosses over. People have become accustomed to the existence of the river, the ferry and the mute old man, as if All this is a matter of course.

Until one day, the mute old man fell ill and was sent to the hospital. The boat set by his successor was slow and unstable, and everyone missed the mute old man who could only speak with his big hands. People remember the sureness with which he steered the boat. Thinking of his dime for crossing the river. I thought of him dressing up and setting off in the middle of the night just to send a pedestrian across the river. With the mute gone, people felt that the ship was empty.

Several months passed, and just when people were about to forget about the mute old man, an official suddenly came to the village. The township head said that he was an old general. He was holding a box in his hand, which was the urn of the mute old man. The mute old man had liver cancer and died in the hospital. He donated all his life's ferry money to build a new bridge across the river.

On the day when the new bridge was completed and the ribbon was cut, the old general tearfully recounted a shocking past incident: In a battle during the Red Army's Long March, in order to intercept the pursuing enemy, the "Red Little Devil" The old general followed the orders of his superiors and cooperated with the squad leader to blow up the stone bridge. The squad leader risked his life to blow up a bridge and was seriously injured and became a cripple. He knew he could no longer go to war and begged to stay. Later, he found a ferry and silently began his days as a mute ferry until he reached the end of his life.

With tears in his eyes, the old general raised the urn in his hand and said: "The mute old man on the ferry is my squad leader!..." The river forgot to flow, and the birds forgot to fly.

The folks are dumb, the river is dumb, the sky and the earth are dumb.

The ashes were raised in the wind, and the loyal soul of a Red Army soldier was flying in the sky, slowly falling into the river, into the mother who he had ferried for more than 40 years to record his silent dedication throughout his life. river.

Under the sun, the white bridge flashed with three big characters: Dumb Crossing. The long river tells you an eternal story. An old Red Army soldier blew up a bridge here during his lifetime and spent his whole life crossing it. After his death, he left another bridge.