A trolleybus No. 102 with a beige upper and a sky blue lower part, dragging a "big braid", slowly drove into the station. As soon as the pen "Fun" Pavilion www.biquge.info car entered the station, the dust brought up by the wheels mixed with the strong smell of gasoline came to the face.

Before the dust settled, thirty or forty passengers crowded to the door of the car, but Hong Yanwu, who was in front of him, was squeezed out of the crowd.

Hong Yanwu was really startled, his heart trembled, and his hands subconsciously tightened his pockets. Nothing else, he was worried about running into a thief who "grabbed the door". If he wants to be stolen again, then he must die himself.

In these days, there is no traffic coordinator waving a small flag to maintain order, and chaos is of course. These milking people all exerted their strength to feed, and even rushed up at all costs, as if they would lose their lives if they waited for one more minute, which made many people who could not stand the squeezing miserable.

A man with a luggage roll on his back couldn't get up because of the crowding, and he was in a hurry to complain, "Oh, it's a squeeze." Why don't you go up first?"

Another woman who had just squeezed into the car was also yelling, "Mom, what are you going to do? ”

Seeing this scene, the conductor hurriedly looked out the window and knocked the ticket clip loudly. But no matter how much she shouted, the people did the same, and continued to rush into the car door. In fact, it is not so much that the conductor is maintaining order, but that she is proving that she exists.

Of all the people who got on the bus, only Hong Yanwu showed high quality. He didn't fight or grab, and took the initiative to humbly give way to the people behind him, and only got on the bus until he was the last in line. It's a pity that his behavior is incompatible with this era, and even the conductor looks at him like he is looking at a fool.

The car finally started, and the conductor opened the ticket holder and greeted him. "Comrades who don't have tickets, please buy tickets, comrades who just got on the bus bought tickets......"

In those days, bus companies set fares for six stops and five cents. Hong Yanwu wanted to go to Taoranting Swimming Pool to transfer to No. 40, so when he bought the ticket, he said that he would only sit on one stop. Unexpectedly, he saw a strange look in the eyes of the conductor and other passengers. For this reason, I pondered for a long time to figure out that in this era, in order to save, most people will choose the "11 Road" leg to walk over on foot. He had no luggage, he was not an out-of-terrorist, and he was still on a bus so close. In the eyes of others, he is undoubtedly a big loser.

Eager to see the street outside, Hong Yanwu bought a ticket and turned around while standing on the steps at the door.

The scenery he saw through the glass of the unclean car doors was a large area of gray bungalows, interspersed with narrow alleys and alleys. The white plaster walls, wooden doors and windows are all covered in loess fine dust. The streets are narrow, there are few car lanes, and the streets are mostly filled with cyclists and pedestrians. In short, the capital more than 30 years ago was not the modern city built of cement and steel in the future. There are no overpasses, no high-rise buildings, no lights, no song halls and bars, only the wind and sand in spring, the blue sky, and the expectation of going home in the dark tide of his heart.

Soon, the trolleybus drove up the cement bridge leading to Taiping Street. This is very significant, because it means that Hong Yanwu is crossing the moat, crossing the dividing line on the outskirts of the city, and is about to enter the city in earnest.

No traffic jams, no red lights, smooth road.

At the moment of stepping into the territory of the capital, Hong Yanwu felt a deep joy in his heart. It was only now that he could be regarded as having truly entered the capital.

People cherish the land, and the birds miss their hometown. Decades of anticipation, decades of dreams, he never thought that he would be able to set foot on the road home again. It's not that the sour text is stinking, he really has a poetic feeling. Home, finally.

When the "102" drove over the cement bridge, the swimming pool station arrived quickly. The place where Hong Yanwu got off the bus was at the gate of Taoranting Swimming Pool, opposite the east gate of Taoranting Park.

In Taoranting Park in the early spring of 1977, the entrance fee was still three cents. But the door is not lively at all, and the tourists are in twos and threes, and it is very deserted. Standing at the station and looking into the gate of the park facing the street, it first gives people a desolate scene of withering popularity and dilapidation.

Hong Yanwu doesn't know how many times he has been in this park, but he has never spent the "unjust money" to buy tickets. This is all because he has known a secret since he was a child - on the north side of the park, near the tannery, there is an iron fence that has been twisted by the tannery workers. According to the principle that the head can get in, the body can get in, and he has always regarded it as the only entrance.

Actually, Phaureus is not far from here. Hong Yanwu can walk home. As long as you enter from the east gate of Taoranting Park, you can reach the north gate of the park in less than 20 minutes, and after leaving the north gate, as long as you walk one more stop to the west, he will arrive home.

However, it is precisely because it is of special significance to go home today, so he is determined to take No. 40, take Taiping Street, turn to Taoranting Road, and then to Baizhifang East Street. Along the way, there were places he was familiar with when he was a child, and they were also places that recorded the trajectory of his life in the first twenty years of his life, and he wanted to take a good look at the street scenes along the way, and also tell them that he Hong Yanwu had returned.

The change of car was in the same place, and it didn't take a few minutes for the car to come.

Hong Yanwu boarded a "Skoda" with white on the top and red on the bottom like bread this time. Soviet-style flatbread like this is the No. 40 bus of this era, and it is also the most common dilapidated bus on the streets of Beijing in this era.

It's not yet time to get off work, and there is no one in the car. You can see that the carriage is full of waste tickets and confetti, the seats and handles of the car have been worn out without luster, the brown leatherette seat cover has long been cracked, and the black sponge head is exposed, very dirty and rotten. Fortunately, it was early spring, the weather was cold, and the smell in the car was bearable.

But the car was definitely about to be scrapped, and the roaring motor was annoying, and every part was rattling. It drove down the road like a guy with a bad stomach, constantly bouncing smoking hoop fart. The passengers were like theater fans, shaking their heads neatly to the beat of gongs and drums up and down. Every time there is a bump, not only the handrail rings will shake in the air, but even the wooden floor of the car will also float a cloud of dust, which seems to be sprinkled with a layer of fog under the sunlight.

Hong Yanwu sat in a window position, he now sees everything fresh, and everything he sees is cordial. In his eyes, it seemed like a bus to the old days.

The people's cards have become ticket clips and pencil heads in the hands of conductors, and the laptops and plastic bags in the hands of passengers have also become aluminum lunch boxes and glass mesh pockets. There are no more bus lanes on the road, the flood of cars disappears from view, and even the buses themselves change from air-conditioned cars back to trailers. The most amazing thing is that there is a horse-drawn carriage directly in front of it, which is blocking the way of the bus.

As the car horn sounded, you could hear the loud shouting of the handlebar. Then there was a whip that split the air, and the carriage was forced to the side of the road. When the motor of the No. 40 car roared and suddenly exhaled exhaust gas past the side of the carriage, Hong Yanwu saw a brown and red horse pulling a flatbed cart through the window. I saw it snorting, steaming white, and running on the asphalt with iron hooves croaking. And the handlebar style looks very calm, sitting on a creaking cart, holding a long whip in one hand and pulling the reins in the other. A special situation like this very epochal one, the future is not visible even in the movie.

For a while, Hong Yanwu seemed to have a dream of time and space reversal. He couldn't help but imagine what kind of vibration would happen if he moved the Soviet-style bread he was in to the Third Ring Road in 2012. Then he imagined what it would be like if he drove down the street in front of him in a Bentley.

"40" Road continues north, from the T-junction of Taiping Street to the west.

In front is the north gate of Taoranting Park, and then open past is Baizhifang East Street, and it is almost there.

Hong Yanwu's eyes were fixed on the window, and he was reluctant to take his head away. He leaned close to the window and pulled back with his fingers on the glass so he could see better. Little by little, he recognized the place he once knew, this is the black kiln factory, here is Sipingyuan Hutong, here is Longquan Hutong, and in front of it is Longzhuhuai Hutong......

Slowly, a scaly claw swept through his mind, dispelling the strangeness of time and awakening more memories. He has an impression of the painted cast-iron fences in the park, the rows of old locust trees on both sides of the road that shade the clouds and the sun, the wooden telephone poles that are brushed together, the houses with gray walls and green tiles, and the dormitory buildings of the Northern Kunqu Opera Troupe. The courtyards and alleys that had been covered by buildings in the past, and the battlefields that made him once famous, were all resurrected in front of his eyes

The car stopped, and the door brake sighed. The conductor's loud voice lazily dragged the long voice to announce the station: "The new road has arrived." ”

Hong Yanwu jumped out of the car, his feet touched the ground, and he didn't have to think about it at all, he walked west along the north side of the road and went straight to the mouth of the alley in Furuli.

Go home!

At this time, it is like an arrow to his heart, and he can't wait!

In front of the bathhouse on the north side of the road. The dark green old mailbox was still silently poked there, and next to the mailbox was still the car storage area surrounded by a circle of black cast iron shelves, and the car storage place was still the bald old man with an enamel tea jar watching the car there. Even the bathhouse is still so lively that you can hear the voices of people coming from the outside.

Hong Yanwu hurried through quickly.

Looking further ahead, on the opposite side of the alley, the grocery store is still in the old place. The one lying on the cardboard box at the door was a big civet cat raised by a nearby resident. The old lady who was sleeping on her own, completely ignoring the kidnapping of her. Don't look at it for being so lazy, but you can't imagine how fast it can be when you catch a mouse.

After walking a few steps closely, I have reached the mouth of the alley. Hong Yanwu turned to the right and plunged into it, leaving the hustle and bustle of the road behind him in an instant.

As the alley narrowed, so did the sky. The sunlight casts the shadows of the house clearly on the walls and floors, and the way home appears clean and bright. It's almost all gray, the kind of gray that is very capital.

A familiar taste and temperature is rapidly spreading. Hong Yanwu remembered the pigeon whistle that resounded through the sky, the crisp call of the blue indigo chin or the yellow finch, the cheers of the children competing to fly kites, the bell of the bicycle breaking the silence of the alley, and the bowing greetings of the neighbors, the benevolence and boldness of the six uncles and five masters, the babbling and singing of the silk and the whirlwind of the cross talk. All this made him deeply feel that the old life was so quiet, comfortable and easy-going.

This is Fraul.