Text/Dong Editor/Liu Meili

There is always one thing on my mind when I go home this time.

On August 24th, I went back to work in Chongqing by bus in Tianshui. On the afternoon of 23rd, I left home for North Island and stood alone on the wooden railing beside Weihe River, waiting for my cousin to go to dinner after work.

A breeze is blowing, sparkling water waves are rippling with green shadows, endless green waves are coming from the middle of the river to the shore, and the rolling river is fighting like rows of neat micro-troops shouting low slogans. Willow trees and drooping branches and leaves on the river bank sway the softness of the wind, soothing the raging river to rest in peace. In this sunset dusk in late summer and early autumn, the evening wind is wrapped in the afterglow of the sun, and the warm wind makes the air cooler. At this time, the figures in twos and threes strolled leisurely, and the straight line drew a subtle arc beside me.

I stood by the river, staring at the leisurely Weixi stream, completely unaware of the teenagers behind me. The subtle arc of pedestrians passing by me and the direction of their focal length made me notice the boy. He threw a trash can by the roadside. Teenagers are naked, and their thin bodies can clearly see the outline of bones. The dirt on his back outlined a mysterious map. He was wearing a pair of tattered shiny black trousers, dragging two cloth shoes on his feet, and his toes were exposed. ...

Teenagers leisurely pick and choose in the trash can, like visiting the shelves of a supermarket, take out a wine bottle from a pile of things they have picked up and go straight to the river. Half kneeling by the river, I put my hand out of the railing, pulled out a thin rope and pulled it out slowly. A broken fishing net surfaced under the pull of the teenager, and a fish struggled on the net to show half of the water. When the teenager saw the fish, he suddenly pulled out the net, like a hungry tiger pouncing on its prey, grabbed the fish, untied it from the net, threw the net aside and threw it in his hand.

I have been standing not far away, staring quietly. At this moment, I walked beside the teenager, and I saw the fish in his hand. It's over an inch long, and I can't tell the variety. The teenager noticed my eyes and turned to me. That is a gentle and delicate face. Zhou Zheng's facial features are embedded in a delicate and slightly dirty face, and his hair grows vigorously on his scalp at will. If he can clean his body and put on a neat suit, he will be a beautiful teenager!

The boy looked at me quietly, and I looked at the fish in his hand quietly. The fish stopped struggling in the hands of teenagers, only its mouth opened and closed, like a quietly beating heart. The boy reached out his hand with the fish to me and muttered, "I can give it to you!" " "I waved my hand and replied," I don't want it. It's no use asking. " The teenager's eyes glanced at me and timidly pointed to the pulse on the side of my schoolbag and asked, "Can you give me the bottle?" I took out the pulse and handed it to the teenager. He took it generously, unscrewed the bottle, took a few sips, poured the rest of the drink into the river, crossed the fence, leaned down and filled the empty bottle with water. He put the fish on the plank road. The fish broke free from the bondage of the teenager's palm and climbed to the ground for survival. The boy fetched water, picked up the fish and stuffed it into a small pulsating bottle. The fish struggled against the bottle wall, and the teenager's eyes locked on the fish's difficult movement.

The setting sun miserly put away its last glory and disappeared into the mountains in the sky. The boy teased the fish in his hand selflessly, apparently indifferent to the time sooner or later. Looking at the scene where the immature figure is depressed in the afterglow of this city, I have a yearning for teenagers. Teenagers are too happy to take care of me standing by. I went over to the boy and asked, "What time is it? Why don't you go back? "

The teenager didn't look at me and casually said, "I'm not going back."

"Where are you from?"

"xxx people, just over there on the mountain." He pointed to Nanshan and said.

"Then why don't you go home at night?"

"Just sleep here." He pointed to the wooden road by the river.

"You don't go home and no one is looking for you?"

"No one is looking for it!" He replied simply.

"What about your family?"

"My dad was killed by a car and my mom ran away with someone." He said without sadness, but my heart rose with unprovoked sadness.

"Is there anyone else in your family?"

"My grandparents have passed away, and now I am the only one." He said simply.

"Nobody in your family wants you?"

"Nobody wants me." He said casually.

"Then nobody cares about you in your village?"

"Nobody cares!"

"Then what do you eat here?"

"Try to eat!"

"Don't do it?"

"Hungry!"

"How long have you been out?"

"A week!"

"How old are you this year?"

"Thirteen!"

"You should go to school at this age!"

"I'm not going!"

"Have you thought about what you want to do in the future?"

"Work!"

"If one of your relatives took you in, would you go?"

"No, this is good!"

……

A conversation made me feel heavy. Teenagers always play with fish in their hands, and the fish keep swimming in narrow bottles. Looking at the teenager and the fish in his hand, my eyes are moist. Beside me is the wide Weihe River, which is no different from the fish in the hands of teenagers, but it can only struggle to survive in a narrow bottle. Behind me is a bustling city, which is no different from the vast universe of a teenager ... I am not crying for this teenager who makes a living by begging, nor for the fish that is about to become stiff. I want to cry because the world is warm and cold, and because of the swordfish in this world.

Half a month has passed, and the figure of the teenager lingers in my mind, when it is far away, when it is near, when it is clear and fuzzy. I can't imagine the situation of teenagers in Zhu Ziqing's The Cost of Life-Seventy cents, but I can't take it lightly. Isn't the fate of teenagers the fate of those young people begging in society?

Reading Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea, I was shocked by the persistent spirit of the old man: "One can be defeated, but not defeated". Stand up, you are strong! Seeing the fish in the hands of teenagers in front of me, I sincerely thought: what should we do in the sea of fate?

After thinking about it for so long, I feel uncomfortable. What bothers me is not the thirteen-year-old boy, nor the fish in the bottle. There is an unspeakable feeling, like an endless unknown road. ...

9 September 20 16

Not long after graduation, I was a little angry. )