Countdown: Humanity's struggle to survive against yesterday

Chapter 25 Jiang Hua

"Pfft..."

A plump woman in the crowd couldn't help but laugh out loud, jokingly saying, "You're at the same table with kids every day now!"

"Go! Go! Go……"

Sun Lingsong took the cigarette, his amused expression fading slightly, but he still retorted stubbornly, "There's no need to go yourself! What good food doesn't Shanghai have? Besides, it's hundreds of kilometers, riding a motorcycle is too dangerous, there's always traffic, and if you get caught in a storm, you'll be in for a world of hurt. You might only get halfway before the world goes backwards!"

Jiang Fumin laughed heartily, "We just finished worshipping the Three Immortal Maidens, they will definitely bless my uncle!"

After saying that, Jiang Fumin pretended to feel sorry for them and said, "Perfect, my uncle isn't here, so you can openly go to the field to steal vegetables... Let's make it clear first, no fighting, whoever gets there first gets to catch the hen."

"Hahaha……"

Hearing this, the neighbors all laughed sheepishly.

Jiang Hua waited until everyone stopped laughing before speaking slowly. His voice was not loud, but it conveyed a sense of certainty. He raised his hand and patted the old motorcycle parked to the side. A bulging canvas bag was hanging on the handlebars, containing food for the road and a bottle of sesame oil wrapped in old clothes. "To be honest, Xiao Ning hasn't contacted his family for seven or eight months. Although the police said he's fine, Xiuyun and I are still uneasy. We're free anyway, so we'll go see for ourselves to put our minds at ease."

"what……"

"Is that so!"

Can college students also go missing?

Several older women exclaimed in disbelief, while two of Jiang Ning's childhood friends, who were of the same generation, remained silent but also showed surprise.

"Sister-in-law Xiuyun, what's going on?"

The plump woman grabbed Li Xiuyun's hand, her face full of curiosity. "Xiuyun, has something happened to Ningzi? Why have you never mentioned it?"

Li Xiuyun forced a smile, her face full of bitterness, unsure how to answer.

"Is that so..."

Sun Zhen frowned, vaguely understanding something. He put the cigarette in his mouth, took a deep drag, and after exhaling, stepped forward and patted Jiang Hua on the shoulder: "Old buddy, I get it. It's time to go take a look."

As he spoke, Sun Zhen turned to the neighbors and said, "Alright, everyone, make way and stop gossiping. We've all eaten plenty of food before, and we'll definitely eat plenty more in the future, so let's save some for ourselves."

Sun Lingsong held his cigarette, remaining silent, but his gaze towards Jiang Hua's motorcycle held a complex expression.

Jiang Fumin smiled and helped his second uncle tidy up the canvas bag, then checked the motorcycle brakes again: "Uncle, I've already filled up the gas for you. It's agreed that this trip is just to scout out the route first. If you get tired on the way, just stop by the roadside and rest for a while. Don't overexert yourself."

"Yes, Dad, my older brother and I are waiting for you to come back!" Jiang Yuan stood beside Jiang Fumin, his youthful face beaming with joy.

"Go home and read your book..."

Jiang Hua's face darkened when he saw the look of elation in Jiang Yuan's eyes.

Jiang Yuan chuckled: "Dad, reading ten thousand books is not as good as traveling ten thousand miles."

"You think you can do that!"

Jiang Hua glared at Jiang Yuan and said nothing more.

Sun Zhen patted Jiang Hua's shoulder forcefully again, "Call me if you encounter any trouble on the road. After all, I'm the village secretary. Although I can't provide immediate relief, I can still be of some help!"

Jiang Hua nodded, said nothing more, got up, mounted his motorcycle, gripped the handlebars with one hand, waved to the crowd, and the engine sputtered, kicking up a cloud of dust as he quickly drove off towards the west of the village.

After leaving the village, we soon arrived at Xijiang Bridge.

As Jiang Hua passed the bridge, he stopped the car without getting out. He sat in the car and silently smoked, his eyes filled with inexplicable thoughts.

This bridge has no name!

The name Xijiang was given by the villagers themselves, while the people from Daweizhuang called it Dongjiang.

It's called a river, but it's actually an old water channel, no more than ten meters wide.

According to my grandmother, my grandfather, Jiang Deyou, led the construction of this bridge in 1999.

At that time, my grandfather was in his prime and was the village leader. Every year on the sixteenth day of the second lunar month, the village would hold a temple fair. In order to make it easier for people from several villages across the river to come to the market, my grandfather took the lead in building this bridge.

Jiang Hua remembers that before the bridge was built, there were several logs tied together with hemp rope in the middle of the canal, forming a bridge. Large blue stones were placed between the logs. He and other children his age used to catch shrimp and fish there. The day the bridge was built was very lively, with many people coming. But now, all he can remember is going with his friends to collect firecrackers.

Thinking of this, Jiang Hua smiled. In his memory, his grandfather was always serious and stern, illiterate, yet he was very good at accounting, and seemed to have inexhaustible energy.

From as far back as I can remember, I always heard my grandmother complaining about my grandfather, saying that when other people were team leaders, they secretly added a lot of things to the family, but my grandfather, who was also a team leader and managed the supply and marketing cooperative, never brought home a single pound of salt.

She also complained that her grandfather was bad at interpersonal relationships and only knew how to be domineering at home. When the production team worked together, he only cared about his own strength and size. While others were only turning half an acre of land, he would turn an entire acre and then go do other work. He was often bullied for this, but he never talked back. However, when it came time to calculate work points, he received the same amount as everyone else.

Jiang Hua clearly remembers that the only time his grandfather took him to play during his childhood was when they came to swim in the Xijiang River in the evening. At that time, the Xijiang Bridge had just been repaired and the water was very clear. He and his friends splashed around in the shallows while his grandfather just let the water reach their waists and silently massaged their backs.

Later, Grandpa never took me to take a bath again, nor did he ever take me to the market. He spent most of his free time playing mahjong.

I initially thought my grandfather was a gambler, but later I learned that despite his tall and strong appearance, he was a terrible swimmer.

Grandma complained about playing mahjong her whole life, saying that Grandpa was always silent. While others joked around while playing mahjong, Grandpa just played quietly. When others made jokes about him, he would just chuckle.

I also had a lot of complaints about my grandfather playing mahjong since I was a child. When I was in school, he wouldn't even give me 50 cents of pocket money, but he could lose 8 or 10 yuan when playing mahjong. Sometimes I would eat spicy strips or snacks in secret from my grandfather, for fear that he would say I was wasting money.

In the years that followed, Jiang Hua remembered that from his adolescence to adulthood, he and his grandfather never got along.

I can't stand my grandfather's bad temper, I can't stand his old ideas, I can't understand why he's reluctant to spend money but can accept losing money playing mahjong, and I can't accept that he would wake me up before dawn to work during summer vacation or the busy autumn season.

After he came of age, his grandfather kept pressuring him to get married. Jiang Hua remembered one time when the two of them had a heated argument, and he said, "I won't get married until you die..."

With these thoughts in mind, Jiang Hua couldn't help but light another cigarette:

In the years that followed, I wandered around big cities, and my grandfather gradually grew old. Every year when I went home for the Chinese New Year, I could see that my grandfather's temper was getting milder year by year.

But my mahjong addiction persisted.

It's funny, but when Grandma was young, she couldn't control Grandpa. But now that he's old, she can control him through his money.

I remember that every time I went home for Chinese New Year, my grandfather would sit with me alone for a few days beforehand. He would first ask about my work, then about how much money I made in a year, and finally, he would look shy and hesitate to speak.

At first, I didn't realize it, but later, every time this happened, I would take out three or five hundred to send my grandfather away. After he took the money, he would indeed stop bothering me.

Later, my memories of my grandfather were that he would occasionally play mahjong in the village in his spare time, but most of the time he would lie on the sofa watching TV. Every time I passed by, I could see him watching "Journey to the West".

Grandma said that he was completely illiterate and didn't watch TV when he was young. Now he likes to watch TV, but he can't understand other programs. He only likes to watch Journey to the West.

The last memory I have is of an autumn harvest.

Having accomplished nothing himself, he returned home dejected from the big city, ostensibly to help his grandfather with chores, but in reality, he was escaping his failures and seeking solace at home.

That autumn harvest, I complained that I was too old to farm anymore, but I was also unwilling to work. When my grandfather called me before dawn, I would get annoyed, but it seemed that my grandfather no longer had the strength to argue with me.

One evening, when it was time to collect and dry the corn that had been drying all day, I was still playing video games in the air-conditioned room. My grandfather called me once and didn't call me a second time. When my grandmother angrily called me downstairs, I grumbled as I went down, "What's the point of collecting it? We'll dry it tomorrow anyway, isn't this just a waste of effort?"

But as dusk fell, I suddenly saw my grandfather carrying half a sack of corn. He was walking very slowly, and his figure was not as tall and strong as I remembered. His beard also looked thin and gray. My muttering immediately became quieter and more guilty.

Grandpa died very suddenly. After the autumn harvest, in the dead of winter, my aunt called the night before to say that Grandpa was hospitalized, and the next morning she called to say that Grandpa was seriously ill. She took the high-speed train from another city and rushed back overnight that same morning.

Grandpa lay unconscious on the hospital bed, barely speaking all night. Grandma only said, "Nobody knew this would happen. He'd never been sick before, just complaining of headaches and a loss of appetite. When your cousin picked him up, he stubbornly stood at the door, refusing to get in the car, saying it was just a cold. But when we got to the hospital, he was unconscious..."

The next day, after taking my comatose grandfather for a follow-up brain CT scan, he was admitted to the ICU. Five days later, when we met again, he had signed a do-not-treat consent form that afternoon.

Strangely enough, from ordering the coffin after returning home, to changing my grandfather's burial clothes at night, to kneeling and asking the village elders to help with the funeral arrangements, to informing relatives of the death, to arranging the banquet, and then going to the crematorium, I remained calm throughout the entire process.

Having never experienced anything like this before, she managed to organize everything in an orderly manner and hold a relatively dignified funeral for her father. She didn't shed a single tear until her grandfather was buried.

Only after the seventh day after his death, when I was taking my grandfather's old clothes, which he had never wanted to throw away all his life, to get rid of them late at night, did I inexplicably recall the year I failed the college entrance exam. I had argued with my grandfather all autumn, and after the wheat was replanted, I lay in the middle of the field and smelled the earth.

The smell of the soil is very comforting and calming. For the first time, I felt a sense of accomplishment in farming.

That night, I had a dream in which I dreamt that I had a hemorrhoid flare-up before, and I was lying on the edge of the bed with my butt sticking out, and my grandfather was helping me change my dressing...

But she couldn't remember what her grandfather had said. After waking up, she burst into tears!

"Looks like I really am getting old..."

"Not only am I always nostalgic, but my memory is also getting worse!"

Jiang Hua snapped out of his daze, took a cigarette, tied up the motorcycle's legs, slowly got off, walked to the edge of the bridge, and squatted down.

There is a simple plaque on the bridge surface under my feet, with only one year: "Relief in 2000".

The nameplate had long been blurred and illegible due to wind and sun exposure.

Jiang Hua bent down and tried to touch it; it was very flat, and he couldn't feel anything.

"Yeah, that's right, so many years have passed!"

Jiang Hua smiled bitterly, stood up, and looked north along the Xijiang River. This river flowed all the way to Huishi Town, and then flowed into another nameless river from Huishi Town.

In recent years, the river has slowly become clear again, unlike the more than ten years when I was young. The banks of the river were piled with weeds, wheat stalks, or corn stalks, and the turbid river water was squeezed into the middle, leaving only a trickle of water.

"I imagine in a few years, kids will be sneaking around here again!"

Jiang Hua smiled and shook his head. He stomped his foot on the bridge surface and sighed inwardly. The roads at both ends of the bridge had been renovated many times, but this very rugged bridge was still there.

For some reason, Jiang Hua suddenly hated himself. The older he got, the more he resembled his grandfather, speaking less and less, his thinking becoming more and more rigid, and he found more and more things he couldn't stand.

"Perhaps that's why Xiao Ning doesn't want to go home!"

Jiang Hua got back on his motorcycle and headed towards Daweizhuang, his mind filled with regret.

"Xiao Wei's death is largely my and Xiu Yun's responsibility. When Xiao Wei was just pregnant, I shouldn't have been so reluctant to give up those few acres of vegetable garden. I should have gone to Shanghai sooner."

"If Xiuyun and I had gone sooner, perhaps Xiaowei wouldn't have developed depression!"

"That way, Xiao Ning probably won't take all the blame upon herself..."