Volume 1: The Ivory Tower's Happy Life Chapter 7: Accent Unchanged, Tears Fall

  "Old Left, your body and age don't match at all, you're as agile as a flying step."

  A middle-aged man with a split head panted and boasted, used to sitting in cars, walking was really not habitual, a few steps later his forehead was sweating, he casually wiped the hair flying over his temples, revealing a shiny forehead, balding, protruding belly, short of breath, obvious signs of overnutrition. Originally, this job wasn't for leaders to do, but unfortunately, the mayor's office meeting set a political task to accompany this family's returning god of wealth back home, and he had to grit his teeth and persevere all the way up the mountain with a smile on his face.

  An old man, with his hands behind his back and supported by his daughter, turned around and smiled, saying humbly: "I'm old, I was born when the Japanese devils were sweeping through Lanzhou in 1942... Look at how fast time has passed, Sino-Japanese friendship has been going on for many years. A lifetime is like a season of grass and trees, and before you know it, the sun sets in the west."

  Sighing, the footsteps didn't stop. The thick and dense nostalgia of the hometown was daunting. The girl supporting the old man turned around and took a look. The one speaking was Director Xu from the Municipal Propaganda Department, who had come to visit his hometown. The local director waved his hand, and the administrator of the warehouse district came over. It wasn't until then that he quietly asked the warehouse district administrator, who quietly introduced which year they moved, how many batches were moved, how many people there were when they moved, and where they all moved to. However, the time had to be traced back twenty years ago, and even the administrator was unclear about it.

  Apart from the minister and deputy mayor, two young people from the propaganda department and municipal committee also came. They were not very old and most of their attention was focused on Zuo Lao's daughter. Their sneaky glances couldn't help but compare her to their ideal woman in their hearts, but they couldn't find anyone better than her. She spoke elegantly and was a lady who smiled without showing her teeth. Ladies are rare to begin with, and it's even harder to find a beautiful one. If you add the word "family" before "beauty", then such a woman is not someone that a low-ranking official like him can aspire to.

  The two of them were both sneaking a peek, and occasionally when they caught each other's eye, they would exchange a knowing smile. One of them quietly changed the subject, saying: "Chen Lin, isn't Old Zuo being entertained by the China Merchants Bureau? How did we get pulled out to accompany him?"

  "Two birds with one stone, huh? The investor from Aluminum and Zinc Chemicals, Zuo Xiurong, is actually the eldest daughter of Old Zuo. And Old Zuo himself has done a lot of research on folk culture. I heard Minister Xu mention that he wants to build a folk culture museum in Lushan area, which means this soft indicator will fall onto our propaganda department." Another person chimed in with their intention. However, his companion glanced at Miss Zuo again, and it was clear that his mind was not on culture. He quietly changed the subject and asked: "Director Zuo, I've seen you before, you're over 40, right? How old is this Miss Zuo? Can she be Director Zuo's younger sister?"

  The implication was that one was an old man with white hair, and the other was a young woman in her 20s. The age difference made them look like grandfather and grandson. A knowing person smiled and explained in a low voice: "The elder daughter is from his previous wife, and the younger daughter is raised by his current wife... I heard that Old Lao has been married three times. Cultured people are all like this."

  The two of them didn't dare to speak loudly, and they followed behind, giggling quietly. The ones in front were relatively quiet, except for Director Xu being slightly older, the deputy mayor was a young cadre under 40, and it was clear that he had little in common with this old man who was said to be a retired professor from a university in the south, apart from the usual pleasantries, they seemed a bit awkward. When the deputy mayor finally asked about Old Zuo's family, the white-haired but youthful-looking old man replied as he walked:

  “……There are hardly any people left, an uncle passed away in the 1970s, that was my last time back here, when I returned to the village there were still a few families, now they've all moved away, it's really like the changing tides of the ocean, a hundred years have passed in the blink of an eye…… When I was born, my mother was a Women's Salvation Association cadre, and my father was a teacher at the Second Branch of the Resistance University, just not far from here in Wu Xiang, not far from the old site of the Eighth Route Army headquarters. If you want to say it, I can be considered a true red second generation, but back then being a red second generation wasn't easy, the feelings I remember are hunger and fear, what I remember most clearly is that whenever I heard gunfire, my grandmother would pick me up and hide with me in the cellar…… After the victory of the War of Resistance, there was another civil war, this place was again the main battlefield of the Shangdang Campaign, and every day I was still being carried by my grandmother to hide in the cellar. At that time, conscription was quite brutal, one of my childhood playmates, only twelve or thirteen years old, slightly taller than me, was taken away to join the Nationalist Army…… Until the liberation of the whole country, my parents followed the army south, when they left they gave me a name called Southbound, at thirteen I started school in Fujian after my grandmother passed away, that's when they brought me there……”

  The old man spoke, talking about trivial matters, more of which was to color his memories of the war. The people of Shangdang have always been strong and brave, and the hardships they suffered during the war were especially severe. However, that brutal war has already passed for over half a century, and even when discussing it, it's unlikely that anyone will add sorrowful emotions; time will drown out all memories.

  Looking at her father being nostalgic, Left Xiying changed the subject and said: "Dad, when I was young, I often heard you tell stories about our hometown. Seeing it with my own eyes is much better than I imagined, even better than Gulangyu Island! Especially the mountains and waters here, the environment is so good, it completely overturned my previous impression of the north!"

  "Of course, only the mirror-like lake in front of the door, the spring breeze has not changed the old ripples. What a great place! When Dad was young, he was especially mischievous, going up the mountain to pick fruit and down to the river to catch fish and shrimp, all around here. There used to be many wild peach trees on the hillside over there. Your grandma couldn't find me anywhere, so she stood at the top of the hill shouting... Mountain kid, your mom is back to pick you up, I brought delicious food, come back quickly..."

  The old man made a gesture and said something, and the child's heart was greatly moved. The words were spoken in the authentic Lucheng dialect of the countryside, where "dad" is pronounced as "da". The few people following them couldn't help but laugh along with it. Left Xiying followed her father's pointing finger, and what she saw was a lush mountain peak, protruding a large boulder, almost at the commanding height of the surrounding area, overlooking the entire warehouse district. Turning back, her father's footsteps stopped, his smiling face somehow squeezing out a turbid old tear. The daughter was stunned, and before she could offer any words of comfort, the old man wiped away his tears and quietly covered it up without making a sound.

  "Right there, that's our home..."

  At the top of the mountain, the old man stopped in his tracks and pointed with a trembling finger, shouting out. What he was pointing at was a collapsed stone and earth house, with withered yellow horse's tail grass on top and newly sprouted green weeds below. The wind and rain had battered their former home, which had become a ruin before the wandering son could return.

  In an instant, tears gushed out like a spring, and the old man's steady footsteps on the mountain were no more. His daughter, Zuo Xiying, and others rushed to support him, but he pushed them away, trembling as he moved forward, grasping the worn doorframe, sobbing, and slowly sat down. With shaking hands, he clutched a handful of wild soil, took a deep breath, as if smelling the scent of his hometown. Large, turbid tears fell onto his wrinkled hands, onto the black and yellow earth, his chest heaving with sobs, unable to control himself for a moment. His daughter quickly pulled out a handkerchief to wipe away his tears, but was pushed away by her father, who also blocked the crowd that had followed him.

  No one came forward to disturb him, just looking at the old man who seemed to be in extreme pain leaning against the door frame, shouting "grandma", shouting "parents", muttering and saying while crying a lot of old tears. After a while, when his consciousness was slightly clearer, he murmured: "Let me calm down... let me calm down... sorry, sorry..."

  All along, Professor Zuo has given people the impression of being kind, open-minded and composed, but unexpectedly, he was still chatting and laughing just now, and in the blink of an eye, he burst into tears. However, no one thinks that this old man's emotional outburst is embarrassing, on the contrary, it adds a few more points to his kindness and respect.

  He sat for a while, then got up and rubbed his eyes. He slowly patrolled along the village road that was already invisible to the eye, walking slowly, as if searching hard in his memory to see if there were still any roosters crowing from the east house or dogs barking from the west house, whether there were still calls from loved ones, and whether he could still remember the sound of gunfire that often brought him nightmares. Slowly, his figure disappeared into the village amidst the ruins and broken walls.

  "My father likes quiet, let him be quiet for a while and take a good look. He hasn't been back here for decades and has been thinking about it all the time..."

  A group of people waited silently, waiting for this nostalgic old man. Only the daughter quietly followed her father's footsteps, silently following him in the already collapsed ruins and broken walls to find what made her father have such a memorable memory...

  Today is a 2K day, hehe... Next comes the stage of beauties and delicious food, fragrant and colorful!