A new book is out. The first one I want to give to is, of course, my mother. In this world, she is the one who pays most attention to me.

My mother’s profession is a doctor. When she was young, my mother was a beauty, and none of our brothers and sisters had the beauty that was unique to her in her youth. When I was a child, I loved to look at old photos of my mother as a girl. She was wearing a cheongsam and had an elegant smile on her face. She was much prettier than the beauties on the calendars left over from the old society, the ones on the beach in the 1930s and 1940s. The most famous movie star is not as beautiful as her mother. My mother went to a church school when she was a child and received a very strict education. She is a good doctor who is praised by her patients. I admired my mother sincerely when I saw the fluent Latin she wrote casually when writing prescriptions for patients.

In my childhood memories, my mother was a serious person, and she rarely seemed to be affectionate towards her children. But my father was different. He smiled all day long and never lost his temper, let alone spanked his children. Because my mother was very strict and would sometimes get angry and scold others, we were all a little afraid of her. I remember my mother spanked me once, when I was seven years old. That day, I was naughty at my neighbor's house downstairs and broke the marble top of a Qing Dynasty mahogany square table. The neighbor came upstairs to complain. My mother got angry and slapped me several times in front of the neighbor. Although the sound It was loud, but not painful at all. I have had high self-esteem since I was a child, and my mother beat me, and in front of outsiders, I felt very embarrassed. Although those few blows were not serious, I was unwilling to talk to her for several days. You can say that I scolded me, but why did I hit her? Later, my father quietly told me a secret: Don’t hold a grudge against your mother. She called those few times to the person who complained downstairs, so she wouldn’t really hit you! Only then did I forgive my mother.

I later discovered that my mother actually loved me as much as my father, but she was more reserved than my father. After I went to school, I became a book lover. I held a book in my hands every day, read it while eating and going to the toilet. At night, I often lay in bed and read it in the middle of the night. My father never interfered with my studies. When I was studying, he would sometimes come over and touch my head. But my mother often restricts me. For the book I am reading, she always has to take it and look through it. She will only return it to me if she thinks there is no problem. If she saw me eating and reading, she would definitely take the book away from me. One day when I was eating, I couldn't break my old habit of reading a book while eating. Mother put down the bowl and chopsticks, reached out and grabbed my book with a straight face, and said: If this continues, you will not be allowed to read anymore. I asked her why, and she said:

Reading is a lifelong matter. If you read like this now, you will destroy your eyes and you will not be able to read in the future. She analyzed my bad habit of reading from a doctor's point of view. She said: If you think it doesn't matter if your eyes are broken, just keep reading like this. You will become blind in the future and it will be too late to regret it. I felt that my mother was making a fuss out of a molehill and didn't take it seriously.

Actually, my mother does not object to my reading. She is really afraid that I will damage my eyes from reading. Although she was nagging, she often borrowed books from her work and came back to read them to me. Books such as "Water Margin", "The Complete Biography of Yue Shuo", "Wanhua Tower", "Romance of the Sui and Tang Dynasties", "Chronicles of the Eastern Zhou Dynasties", "Grimm's Fairy Tales", "How Steel Was Tempered", "Gadfly", etc. She first lent it to me to read. When I celebrated my eighth birthday, my mother boiled two eggs for me as usual and bought me a book. It was a thin book "The Story of Zoya and Shula". In the 1950s, which child could get a book from his mother on his birthday?

After graduating from high school, I experienced many ups and downs in life and became a writer. In my previous impression, my father cared most about my creations. At that time, I had just started to publish my works. I knew which newspapers and periodicals had my articles, and my father could go to post offices and newsstands all over Shanghai to buy that issue of newspapers and periodicals. I have new books coming out and my father always asks me for them. When I was signing books and selling books at the bookstore, my father always came to watch the fun. He wrote all the joy and pride on his face because of his son's success. But my mother never discussed literature in front of me and never boasted about my success. I don’t even know if my mother reads the books I write. Once, my father asked me about my creation in front of me. My mother laughed at him and said: Look at your proud look, it seems that your son is the only writer in the world.

After my father passed away, my mother suddenly became very old.

In order to free my mother from her sadness and depression, our family of three took her on a trip and even traveled abroad once. When I was with my mother, we talked about a wide range of topics, but they never touched on literature or my books. I'm afraid that talking about this topic will embarrass my mother, and she may have nothing to say.

Last year, Shanghai Literature and Art Publishing House published a set of my self-selected collections, four thick volumes, with one million and hundreds of thousands of words. The letters are printed very small. I thought that my mother would not read such a book, so I did not think of giving it to her. Once I went to see my mother, and she told me that she had gone to the bookstore a few days ago. I asked her what she was going to do. My mother smiled and said: I want to buy a set of "Zhao Lihong's Selected Works". I was stunned and asked: Why did you buy this book? The mother replied: Read it. Seeing my disbelieving face, my mother said lightly: I have read every book you have written. As she spoke, she walked to the corner of the room, where there was a secret passage covered by a curtain. Mother opened the curtain and there was a bookcase inside. You see, there are many books you have written, and they are all here. When I went over to take a look, I couldn't help but be surprised. In the bookcase, dozens of books I had published in the past twenty years were all there, neatly arranged according to the year of publication. There were not many books, but several books. , and the book cover is carefully wrapped. I can't find several of these books myself. I think this is probably the most complete collection of my works in the world.

Looking at my mother’s bookcase, I felt my eyes burning and I couldn’t say a word for a long time. She collects every one of my books but never shows them off to others, she just reads them by herself. In fact, it is my mother who reads my books most carefully. Mother, you understand your son, but your son does not understand you! I feel ashamed

My mother stared at me with a smile, her eyes showing infinite love and care. My mother is old, her face is covered with wrinkles, and the beauty of her youth is so far away that she can no longer trace it. However, in my eyes, my mother is more beautiful than ever. Is there anything in the world that is more beautiful and deeper than maternal love?