A Young Woman's Heart

"It is said that a seven-colored carp was caught here when the Republic of China was first established."

"Seven colors? Really? Could it have mutated due to nuclear radiation?" Gao Yuan asked in surprise.

"Where did the nuclear leak come from back then?"

"They must have had nuclear weapons by then, right?"

No.

"Then there must be a nuclear power plant, right?"

Seeing that the story was about to be interrupted and turned into a debate about the origins of nuclear technology, Mo Xueyao quickly raised her voice: "Quiet down, quiet down, let Uncle finish speaking first!"

"Yeah, don't you have any manners?" Gao Yuan deliberately gave Liu Xiaowei a disdainful look.

"Damn it, didn't you say that first?" Liu Xiaowei gave him the middle finger, and the two best friends started laughing and arguing again.

Uncle watched them bicker with a smile, then continued, "It's true, a seven-colored carp. Everyone says it's an auspicious sign, indicating that after this country is established, it will bring us a better life—perhaps it really is much better than during the Qing Dynasty."

"After that, people caught this kind of fish one after another, like my grandfather... Haha, don't get me wrong, he just saw someone catch it with his own eyes. It really was a seven-colored carp, just like a rainbow, like a rainbow falling into the water—that's what my grandfather said."

Don't be fooled by what seems like a common phrase now; it's thanks to the widespread availability of compulsory education. In the past, someone who hadn't received any formal education wouldn't have been able to utter such refined words.

"Yes, there really is..."

"Haha, I've only heard my grandpa mention it. My dad and I have never seen those colorful carp. Back then, many people would release them after catching them because catching one would bring good luck, while taking it away would bring bad luck."

It was different from the legend that Mo Xueyao had imagined.

This legend is very close to the present day, and it's not scary at all; on the contrary, it seems to be conveying happiness and goodwill.

People scoop the carp out and then put it back, not only because they don't want to suffer bad luck themselves, but also because they hope that others can catch them and have the same good fortune.

Isn't this the most genuine act of kindness?

"Then why did it disappear later?" Ye Banxia asked curiously.

"Perhaps... this place is no longer suitable for it to live, so it has moved to a place with fewer people," the uncle said leisurely, looking at the distant mountains. "My grandfather said that the seven-colored carp does not like crowds, so this is probably why it disappeared."

"This place isn't usually lively, is it?"

"Haha, no matter what, people still come here often, much more than when my grandfather was here."

As times change, the boundaries between cities and rural areas will gradually become blurred, and more and more rural areas will become part of cities. Perhaps one day, this place will also become a street in the city.

Will the lake be filled in or renovated by then?

No matter what you do, this is not the original lake, and that colorful carp may never find this place again.

To be precise, it's that we can no longer find that familiar 'hometown'.

The world changes, everything is changing...

Thinking of this, Mo Xueyao quickly asked, "Has this lake been widened?"

"Oh? Here? Yes, during the War of Resistance Against Japan, shells landed in the lake and wrecked it. After the war ended, everyone spontaneously organized to repair it. In recent years, an agricultural training base was built here, so the lake was renovated again. It wasn't this big before! Before, it was called a lake, but it was actually just a large fishpond."

"Could it be that the seven-colored carp couldn't find its way home, or that it came here but didn't feel like it was home, so it never came back?" Mo Xueyao's words had a fairytale quality, which made Hua Yinyin chuckle and nudge her back.

"Little Yaoyao still has a childlike heart, doesn't she?"

"Haha, maybe, maybe," the uncle laughed heartily. "You can come here to fish next time; who knows, you might catch a rainbow-colored carp!"

Mo Xueyao kept her head down, ignoring the gazes of others.

She thought that perhaps her uncle's grandfather was also lying to him, and that he had never seen the so-called seven-colored carp.

However, in order to give future generations a glimmer of hope, this beautiful legend was continued.

Perhaps it's a hope that one of their descendants will still guard that peculiar carp, and this land called 'hometown'...

Perhaps this legend reflects the thoughts of many people in that era.

They are like colorful carp, unable to return to their hometown because of the war. Even if they did return, the place would be unrecognizable and no longer their original home.

These words only crossed her mind; she didn't say them aloud.

Because if she says it out loud, others will think she's overthinking things, like she's doing reading comprehension.

However, she still firmly believes that everything has its reasons for development, and that myths and legends, to varying degrees, embody the humanistic sentiments unique to that era.

"Alright, everyone's rested enough, right? Come on, let's get back to work this afternoon!" The uncle stood up with a smile, which immediately caused the students to start 'wailing' in varying degrees of intensity.

……

Chapter Seventy-Five: Working Together

As the autumn breeze blew by, swathes of rice lay flat on the ground. But upon closer inspection, it turned out that it wasn't the autumn wind, but rather the farmers harvesting the wheat.

The large plaza used for parking has tools for removing rice husks—interested students can also come here to experience what it's like to remove rice husks.

However, any machine carries inherent risks during use, so it's essential to have someone constantly monitoring it to prevent improper operation and potential problems.

This machine requires at least two people to operate: one person holds the handle and cranks it vigorously, while the other person holds the rice stalks to peel them.

The faster you shake, the faster you peel the skin; however, generally speaking, it's fine as long as you keep it at an average level.

Boys really enjoy playing with these machines; just shaking them and listening to the mechanical gears turn is incredibly satisfying.

Compared to the vast expanse of farmland, the land occupied by the students for agricultural training is only a small part of it.

It's the busy season for farming. Crops are falling to the ground, being sorted into piles, then hulled and bagged...

Farmers are like hardworking ants, toiling on this beautiful land, ensuring that granaries are always full of grain, and freeing many people from worrying about food.

This will allow students to learn in a relaxed state of mind, without worrying about the future.

The shop owner closed the store, grabbed a large pipe, and sauntered to the edge of the field.

The instructor turned around, called out "Dad," and went over to hand him a cigarette.

"I don't smoke. I still prefer smoking a pipe."

“Dad, smoking a pipe is very harmful to your health. If you really want to smoke, then smoke this kind of pipe.”

"Forget it, I'm so old, why bother with all that?" the old man replied nonchalantly, tapping his pipe on a rock before leisurely pulling out some dark tobacco from his pocket and stuffing it into the pipe. He then struck a flint and 'click' to create a spark.

Matches aren't sold much in the city anymore, let alone these 'ancient' flints.

Nowadays, most people use lighters to smoke; it's probably only the older generation in rural areas who are so frugal.

A flint and steel can be used repeatedly for a long time. It can easily last three to five years, if not a lifetime.

However, you really need some skill to hit this thing.

The old man took a deep drag of his cigarette, feeling as comfortable as if he were about to ascend to heaven.

He squinted at the students working, watching them occasionally slack off and play around, watching some run to the rice husk machine to join in the fun, and then run back to drag the others along...

"How many years is it this year?" the old man asked, squinting his eyes.

"2000, Dad."

"Oh, it's 2000." The old man took another puff of his cigarette, and the ash he exhaled smelled much stronger than that of a regular cigarette, so much so that Mo Xueyao, who was sitting next to him resting for a while, moved several places to the side. "Forty or fifty years ago... I was about this young back then... maybe a little older than them. There were also educated youth sent to the countryside back then."

The old man spoke in a strong local dialect, which Mo Xueyao could understand, probably because she had been hearing it a lot lately.

What was it like back then?

"Back then, it wasn't lively at all. When we first arrived, it was lifeless. Everyone wanted to go back to the city. They felt ashamed to be farmers..."

"Most people are forced to come, so they don't want to come, but they have no choice but to come. Once they come, some people stay, and others still want to go back. What's wrong with the countryside... isn't it still us rural people who support us?"

"But after a while, everyone got used to it, relaxed, and started fooling around in the fields just like them. When the inspectors came and saw what was going on, they would say, 'Hey, what's wrong with you guys? You're not working properly. If you don't meet your targets, you won't have anything to eat next month.' So they would quickly finish up all the things they had been slacking off on in the past few days, and then lie in bed exhausted saying they would never farm again, hahaha..."

Mo Xueyao couldn't help but laugh when she heard this. It sounds funny now, but how heartbreaking it must have been for those people back then?

Fortunately, the Chinese are best at finding joy in hardship.

This is probably why many people later decided to stay and live in the countryside.

"However, the good times didn't last long, and then..."

"Hey, Dad, let's not talk about that anymore. It wouldn't be good if the students heard it."

"What's wrong with it? It's all history. How can we not listen? How can we learn from history if we don't listen? I really don't understand. It's the fault of that generation, not this generation. Why can't we talk about it?" The old man shook his head and took several puffs of his cigarette. "Do you not want others to know, and want to make the same mistake again?"

"No, things are different now than before."

"So, hehe... back then, there was a teacher who came to our area, and I asked him to teach my son when he was only three years old!"

The uncle awkwardly twitched his lips, and the students who heard the old man telling his story burst into laughter, seemingly gaining energy even for their work.

"This kid was really mischievous when he was little. It took him a month to learn the order of numbers. When asked what comes after six, he said nine, because six is ​​reversed!"

"Cough, ha..." Uncle chuckled dryly twice.

"That teacher was good; he taught him for several years. But later, everyone went crazy. If you had a little education, you'd be criticized and denounced; if you had a little money, you'd be labeled a capitalist; if you did something slightly wrong, you'd be locked up in a pigsty... Intellectuals have it tough. Those young people of the new generation... they've gone crazy, absolutely crazy." The old man shook his head, repeating this sentence over and over again, but he didn't finish the sentence.

"What happened to the teacher after that?" My uncle was quite curious about this, it seemed that even he hadn't asked.

“You don’t remember that? Well… you were still young.” The old man tapped his pipe. “He was first locked in a pigsty, and then they heard that he was a Chinese teacher who only taught people Confucian classics, which were feudal ideas. So they searched his house and found several books as evidence. They also said that he used the Selected Works of Great Men to pad his cups, which were capital offenses. So they took him to the edge of the village.”

Needless to say, everyone already knows what happened next.

The old man remained silent for a long time before giving a forced smile, making a gun shape with his hand, and pointing it at his head: "Bang, one sound, and I fell down."

"Alright, alright, Dad, stop talking."

"It's nothing, there's a good side to it too. It nipped the budding of capitalism in the bud. Those who wanted to become new landlords didn't dare to even think about it for decades. It's a good thing, a good thing!"

The old man smiled, tears welling in his eyes. His toothless mouth made it sound as if one could hear his sobs: "Your grandfather... died around that time too. He was still writing novels back then..."

"If Grandpa hadn't died, would he have become a famous writer?"

"Haha, not necessarily, not necessarily. If it were to succeed, he'd be even more famous after he died." The old man used sarcasm to mask the sadness on his face. "Now it's good, now it's good..."

Then, the old man stopped talking, just smoked and gazed at the distant horizon, as if he was still waiting for someone to return.

No one could guess what he was thinking at that moment; the previously playful atmosphere had become somewhat oppressive.

Fortunately, the students were still young, and they quickly forgot about their minor unpleasantness. Once again, bursts of laughter and cheerful chatter filled the small patch of field.

The afternoon flowed by slowly, accompanied by the tranquility of the countryside, far removed from the hustle and bustle of the city.