Chapter 195: My Prairie (1)

Chapter 20: My Grassland [Waru Alan (Mongolian)]

(1) Looking at the north and crying

I received a phone call saying that they had made a special trip to make a film about my father. It's a pity that I can't get through to my phone before I leave.

It seems that my father is in good spirits and they are very relieved, but my mother's illness cannot be delayed any longer and needs surgery. Because my mother listened to me, she asked me to persuade her to undergo surgery.

I know that my mother was frightened by the hospital's consent form for surgery, which required the family to sign, and anyone who could read would shudder if she understood it. It lists the possible risks and accidents of the operation, and says that the hospital is not responsible for these situations! It seems that the success rate of the operation is extremely low, and any accident will be unsuspected. Therefore, conscious people think that if they are not unconscious and a dead horse is a live horse doctor, they will definitely not be able to operate. Whether on TV or in reality, those who dare to sign it are in a hurry and sign without even reading those terms.

I immediately called my mother and told her: There is a new classmate in Bei Xiaozi's class, and the whole family has come from Shandong, because his father is very good at surgery, and the hospital in Beijing has solved the household registration of a family of four, divided the house, and allocated a car! Therefore, Beijing has gathered famous doctors from all over the country, and there is no problem with any incurable diseases, so I will sign it.

But my mother still said that I had to think about it.

Alamusa, who called me, told me that they were so touched by my father's deep affection for the northern steppes that my father was in tears as he spoke.

This made me very disturbed, because my father had never said anything to anyone before, and he was very tight-lipped about us sisters, and even until we were twelve years old, we thought that our parents had picked us up from the Gongga Mountains or by the Chongtian River.

My father was cautious in his words and deeds since he was a child, but during the Cultural Revolution, he was broken by the Red Guards because of a sentence taken out of context in his notebook. The reason why he is saying it now may not be the sincerity of the interviewer, but the feeling that the children can walk and pass on in the world without his protection.

That northern steppe may be an eternal pain in the hearts of Mongolians who have left the steppe. When I was born, it was already another country. It stands to reason that I shouldn't have anything wrong with that. But strangely enough, I am full of unforgettable disdain for the likes of Guo Moruo, the womanizers who sang the praises of the independence of the steppe, and for the series of writers who won literary prizes named after those people.

My colleagues said that this kind of feeling of mine was abnormal, it was not an ordinary literati who treated each other lightly, and it was also destined that I would never be able to stand out in the Chinese literary world with the help of nobles. Actually, I admit in my bones that the 5,000-year-old civilization of the Han people is excellent rice, but are there any clever women among the Han people today? Chew those four famous works like chewing gum, one person chews them, and that one person chews them again. The fact that a hundred schools of thought are contending and a hundred flowers blooming is just a full proof that the Han people in the 21st century are not as thoughtful as the Han people in the Warring States Period.

The homeland of my ancestors is the Altai Mountains, that is, wherever the rivers originating from that mountain range go, they are the lands that future generations must conquer. The Irtysh River flows all the way to the Arctic Ocean. Therefore, my father could only look at the north and weep.