By the time I was in junior high school, I knew that my childhood was at the end of my life. Pen ~ fun ~ Ge www.biquge.info when I was in the first year of junior high school, I was 11 years old, only 52 pounds, my father personally carried my luggage to send me to school, and since then I have begun my nine-year middle school career. The first time I left home, I felt unprecedented novelty, but I was also very ashamed, because I finally failed to be admitted to the county middle school at that time, and one person in my class did.

I was in class 79 (A) at the time, and there were more than 50 people in the class, and I have no memory of the situation at the beginning, but I remember that I often didn't have food. At that time, the canteen was chaotic, the window of the meal was crowded, more than a dozen people were in a mess, and they had to squeeze desperately to get the meal, and then I also drew a cartoon: a person was desperately squeezing the rice, sweating profusely, and finally received a meal, and couldn't help but sigh: Who knows that the Chinese food on the plate, the grains are hard, and this cartoon is recited in the school for a while. Later, in my first novella "Mr. Bookkeeper", I wrote a large paragraph about squeezing, and many people read it, and they said that it was very vivid and expressive, and they expected that I was a master of squeezing, which was really ashamed. I was only 52 pounds at the time, and before I got to the side, I was touched by those seniors. Sometimes there are teachers on duty, who are responsible for maintaining the order of the queue, and they barely receive food. At that time, my sister was also in this school, and the girls were generally disciplined and orderly, so I asked her to help beat her, but after many times, I got bored, and sometimes I was simply hungry. At that time, the food was very bad, a few taels of rice, a piece of greens, I couldn't stand the hunger after eating, let alone not eating, so the feeling of hunger was particularly strong and very unforgettable.

Another is that we have labor classes in our class, planting vegetables, and require each person to pay 25 pounds of vegetables per semester (it seems to be), and the school has a two-bed vegetable plot for you to plant. Watering and fertilizing are all your responsibility. This is difficult for the young Zhu Zhi, although he was born in the countryside, but he doesn't know anything about growing vegetables. What's more, such a big child, to carry water, at that time the water was still very scarce, to the far Huanghua River to fetch, fertilizer to the school big dung pit to scoop, not able to pick at all, a few times almost fell into the dung pit. In this case, the greens planted are simply thinner than yourself, yellow, like your own face, so if you don't complete the task in a semester, you don't complete the task, and all the rewards and honors are not related to you, so you are extremely bored with reading. Another unbearable burden was that we had to go home every week, fetch a week's worth of rice and firewood, and hand them over to the canteen. As you already know, it is a three-hour journey from my home to middle school, and it really costs me my life to carry dozens of pounds of rice and firewood and walk so far on a mountain road when I am so thin! Parents sometimes help to pick some, but most of them have to rely on themselves, so it can be said that they have suffered a lot. I vividly remember one time when it was raining, I fell halfway through, and the rice and firewood were scattered on the ground, mixed with the yellow mud, and I sat on the wet ground and cried. These two things are the most painful things I have ever had since I started studying.

At that time, the cost of living was still the main reason for me. Since there are three people in the family studying, the parents seem to be struggling. So, in addition to picking up rice and firewood from home to go to school, I also had to find a way to earn some money. So, on Saturdays and Sundays, my brother and I went to our own mountain to cut some bamboo, and then spent more than an hour carrying it on our shoulders to the Huanghua River outside the village, tied it into bamboo rows, and drifted it to the commune to sell, because Nandu Commune was a famous weaving village at that time. Two people can only carry 3 bundles a day, each bundle is about 60 catties, and the total is less than 400 catties, 5 yuan per 100 catties, and the total income is less than 20 yuan. What's even more odious is that at that time, there was a group of people who ate idle meals and bullies on Nandu Street, and they specially held a pole and said that they wanted to re-weigh the bamboo, charging 5 cents each time, so they had to remove 3 pieces of six bamboos, and the actual amount they got was only 15 or 6 yuan, which was just enough for our two for a week's food. This kind of hard and embarrassing work is actually envied by some students, who think that it is so romantic and pleasant to put bamboo rows - maybe they have watched "Shining Red Star" too much! One time during the New Year's Day holiday, my classmate Liao Qingnan (who later wrote a novel with me, who is said to have left in 2016) was also eager to try and follow me home, also wanting to experience the fun of rehearsing. At that time, it happened that the family had a batch of pit wood to be transported to the commune forestry station, and my father and mother had already taken advantage of the flood to float them to the Huanghua River. My mother, younger brother and Liao Qingnan and I made them into wooden rafts and planned to go down the river. But it was not good, and my brother and I had just pried the rafts off the shore when we washed down a dangerous shoal, and all of them were scattered, and the two of us fell into the river, and the logs floated around, and we finally got them back together, tied them up, and set off again. The wind on the river was so cold that my brother and I shivered with cold, and of course my mother and Liao Qingnan also felt that it was unusually cold. From 8 a.m. to 6 p.m., we couldn't get a drop of water, and the feeling of being cold and hungry is still unforgettable! Later, I couldn't stand it anymore, so I also went to Liao Qingnan's house (his home is by the river), so I went up to rest. As soon as we arrived at his house, his father brought us thick cotton clothes, and as soon as we put them on, we were so warm that we shed tears! Later, I bought a total of 48 yuan for that batch of wood, all of which I used for my brother and my younger brother to study: my own wood, my father cut him down, and he was busy for about six or seven days, floating it to the river, plus carrying it on his shoulder, it also took two or three days, and then the four of us worked all day cold and hungry, and it took about 20 more than 20 labor, just to earn a little money (the monthly salary of ordinary workers at that time was forty or fifty yuan), which made me very frustrated and angry.

However, this kind of physical trauma (and of course also mental) is negligible for the mental trauma caused by my later thinking. At that time, there were more than a dozen students in our class who were not from agricultural households, and most of them were the children of residents on the streets, teachers and cadres. I was strongly struck by the superiority they displayed. First of all, they are non-farmers, no matter during the summer and winter vacations, they don't have to go home to help the family do farm work, which is the most deadly; Secondly, they generally came from wealthier families, and the government provided them with rice and oil every month, and they were far better fed and clothed than we were, and one of our classes was the son of the secretary of the commune, and the other was the daughter of the president of the court, which was unthinkable to us at that time. Every move they showed in front of us made us rednecks feel ashamed, and every piece of clothing they wore made us embarrassed by the coarse cloth clothes. Thirdly, they are generally in their own right, they don't do much with us and think they are superior. But all of this is not important, the most important thing is that no matter whether they can be admitted to these higher schools in the future, they don't have to do farm work, they have the same food. And they can also have more examination channels than us, such as many technical schools and technical secondary schools that specialize in recruiting non-agricultural hukou.

A huge loss enveloped the young Zhu Zhi deeply. At that time, I began to think seriously about this problem, when I was studying in the village primary school, we were all the same people, we were all from these villages, one foot of cow dung and one foot of mud, I never thought that people would be so divided into grades and high and low. I didn't expect that I belonged to those inferior categories. Adolescence came as scheduled, I became more sensitive, even a little neurotic, as mentioned in the previous chapter, complaining about my family's origins, it was at that time that I started, but this thought did not last long, Zhu Zhi is a very strong person, although it is so sentimental, I did not pull down much from studying, I am determined to take a normal secondary school, in that case, I can immediately turn to non-farming, eat the national food - that is not only me, but almost the vast majority of rural children's thoughts. In addition to this path, there is another one, which is to join the army. But because of my right ring finger, I can't even think about it.

The teachers all believed that I could be admitted, but by the time of the high school entrance examination, I could not be admitted to the technical secondary school, not only did I not get into the secondary school, but I also missed the county high school, which was a heavy blow to a teenager who wanted to become a non-agricultural boy and his mother (I will talk about this later). In the fall of 1982, I was 14 years old when I entered the high school of this high school.

But high school life is no longer of any interest to me, and reading is boring. I started writing down some of my feelings, which should have been my early work. I still have a manuscript at that time, and there is an assignment about a rural boy who had a relationship with a non-agricultural girl, and then the man returned to the countryside because he failed the exam, so he had to say goodbye to the woman. I don't know how I would have written such an article when I was 14 years old, when I had no experience of love at all, and I wanted to find out the prototype of the story, but I couldn't come up with it. Another study is a poem, which is a bit of a imitation of "Green Yarn Tent", which talks about the disillusionment of his ideals, full of melancholy, and reading it makes me feel sad today.

My grades in my first year of high school were very average, when I entered the school, I was in the first place, but after the first semester, I was in the bottom few places. I felt that I had no hope of studying, and in those years, some people had begun to work in Guangdong one after another, and I thought that I might be better off this path. Because, after three years of studying in Nandu Middle School, the probability of being admitted to the university is basically zero, and until that time, there are few fresh graduates who have been admitted to the university, and the few who can be admitted are all repeatedly recycled.

At the age of 15, I started to think about my future! It was a very painful time, as if I had suicidal thoughts for the first time. This is very strange, because the thought creeps into your consciousness almost unconsciously, leaving you lingering. Fortunately, the idea of shooting didn't last long, and in the summer of 1983, my younger brother took the high school entrance examination and was also admitted to the junior high school of this school, plus my sister and me, so there were three children studying. There is no one in the family except for his parents. In those two years, my father's health began to deteriorate, and I made my own decision to take a year off from school, go home first, and talk about it next year. When writing the suspension certificate, the school's officer Mo said worriedly: You are taking a leave of absence, can you still come to study next year? I didn't answer, the future was ignorant in my heart.

In the summer of 1983, I began a one-year hiatus, one of the most arduous years I will ever forget. At this time, I learned to escape, and perhaps, I chose to escape, and this is where it began.