(xiii)

At that time, the school in the village was originally a Jiang family ancestral hall.

One of my distant uncles can still remember the time:

The school is a courtyard building, the main hall is all empty, there are several large plaques on the beams, there is a flat above the main hall of the lobby, it is written "Ancient History", the large plaque of the left room of the main hall is "Flourishing Leaves", and the large plaque on the right side of the main hall is "Zude Liufang". On the right side of the plaque, there is a line of small characters erected "Guangxu 14th year (1888) respectfully standing". The opposite plaque of the main hall is "The Fifth World Qichang", and the large plaque facing the patio on the back of this plaque is "Zhong Lingyuxiu". On the first floor on both sides of the patio are classrooms, the walls of which are made of wooden boards, and there are eight large circles made of red lacquer, four on each side, and a black character is written in each circle. In the big red circle on the right is "courtesy, righteousness, honesty and shame", and on the right is "faith and peace". The pillars are tied into tiles with wood and hung on the pillars in couplets, as if they were still gilded.

However, in my impression, the throne of Confucius and the ancestral tablets enshrined have long been demolished, and these plaques and couplets in my uncle's memory have long since disappeared.

The first floor of the main house and the side rooms were all converted into classrooms, and the second floor was the teacher's dormitory and office.

On the second floor above the main gate, a semicircular iron bell hangs, and when struck with an iron rod, it makes a crisp bell. The bells for class, class, and assembly are different. The bell of class is quick but not dense, and the bell of class is light and decompressing. The bells of "bell, bell" for morning exercises and school gatherings are rapid and intensive.

A ringtone is a command. We are both in awe and fascinated by the school bell.

I have observed it up close, and a large piece has been rolled out of the place where the iron bell has been struck all the year round, and the iron rod that rings the bell is also round and smooth. There is a wooden hole next to the bell, and after striking the bell, the iron rod is inserted into the hole so that it does not slip off.

When my father took me to school to work overtime on the weekend, I quietly picked up an iron rod and gently struck the iron bell. Later, many classmates gathered around me and asked me what it was like to ring the bell, and I would describe it vividly. Looking at the envious eyes of my classmates, I was proud for a while.

There is also a magnolia tree on the campus, and in spring, there are purple flowers blooming, clumps, clusters, very beautiful. The trunk was tall and the branches were so beautiful that it reached the second floor, and a mischievous magnolia even reached into the window of the principal's office.

The purple magnolia is so beautiful, so beautiful that everyone is reluctant to fold her. She's been growing like that, she's always been beautiful,......

The surrounding area of the school is covered with tall ancient locust trees, and in autumn, the whole campus is full of acacia flowers, which is refreshing. A breeze blew, and the ground was full of locust flowers.

There are two basketball hoops on the playground, which are made of wood. The edge of the basketball court is fenced off with bamboo, forming a fence to prevent the basketball from escaping. Playing on the court, the bamboo fence next to the court is full of people.

At that time, there were six classes, three or four hundred students, and the sound of reading aloud always resounded throughout the village.

Many years later, all this is gone.

The magnolia tree was cut down, and the old locust tree was also cut down. New schools were built, but there were only about thirty or forty students left.

The beauty is gone, the hustle and bustle is gone, and the campus that carries good memories is no more.

When the locust tree was cut down, my father wept, and he silently picked up some tubers and went home and locked them in the barn. By then, he had already retired.

Of course, that's an afterthought.