Chapter 07: The dialect remains unchanged, tears fall

The elderly spoke, rambling on about trivial matters, but more so evoking memories of war. Since ancient times, the people of Shangdang have been known for their resilience, and the suffering endured during the war was particularly profound. However, that brutal war has now been over for more than half a century. Even when discussed, it is unlikely that anyone would add a tone of sorrow; time tends to drown out all memories.

Thus, a group of people waited silently, waiting for this nostalgic old man, with only the daughter gently following behind her father, quietly trailing along... searching among the already collapsed ruins for what could have left such a profound memory in her father.

At the summit, the old man's steps came to a halt. Trembling, he pointed and exclaimed. The place he indicated was a collapsed stone and mud house, with the high ground covered in years of withered horse-tail grass and the ground sprouting fresh green weeds. The old home, battered by wind and rain, could not wait for the returning wanderer and had long since become a ruin.

As the old man gestured and spoke, a childlike innocence arose, and his words were steeped in the authentic dialect of Luzhou, pronouncing "dad" as "da." The few companions accompanying him laughed in agreement. Following her father's指, Zuo Xiying saw a lush hilltop, where a large stone jutted out, almost the highest point in the vicinity, offering a view over the entire reservoir area. Turning back, her father's steps came to a halt, his smiling face unexpectedly revealing a drop of murky old tears. The daughter was taken aback, unable to offer any words of comfort. The old man wiped his eyes, silently concealing his emotions and the passage of time.

The implication is that one is an elderly person with white hair, while the other is a young woman in her twenties, resembling a grandfather and granddaughter. The informed individual smiled knowingly and quietly explained: "The eldest daughter is from the first wife, and the youngest daughter is raised by the second wife... I heard that Mr. Zuo has been married three times. This is typical of cultured individuals"

Of course, only the water of the mirror lake in front of the door remains unchanged, the spring breeze does not alter the old waves, what a wonderful place. When my father was young, he was particularly mischievous, climbing mountains to pick fruits and going down to the river to catch fish and shrimp, right in this area, where there used to be many wild peach trees halfway up the mountain. Whenever your great-grandmother couldn't find me, she would stand on that mountain top and shout... "Shanwa, your big brother has come to pick you up, bringing you delicious food, come back quickly..." "Shanwa, your big brother has come to pick you up, bringing you delicious food, come back quickly..."

A middle-aged man with a receding hairline gasped as he praised, saying that he was so used to being driven that walking was truly uncomfortable. After just a few steps, he felt sweat on his forehead. He casually swept aside the hair that had fallen over the side of his head, revealing his shiny bald crown, a prominent sign of excessive nutrition characterized by a receding hairline, a protruding belly, and shortness of breath. Originally, this task was not meant for a leader, but unfortunately, the political task set by the mayor's office was to accompany this returning god of wealth. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to smile all the way up the mountain.

"Right there, that is our home"

Both individuals were engaged in covert observation. Occasionally, when their eyes met, they would share an awkward yet knowing smile. One of them quietly shifted the topic, saying: "Chen Lin, wasn't Old Left invited by the Shipping Bureau? Why have we been reassigned to accompany him?"

After sitting idly for a while, he got up and wiped his eyes. Slowly, he wandered along the village path that had become invisible, walking at a leisurely pace, seemingly striving to recall whether there were still the crowing of roosters from the east and the barking of dogs from the west, whether there were still calls from relatives, and whether he could still remember the gunfire that often brought him nightmares. Gradually, his figure disappeared among the ruins and broken walls of the village

Daughter Zuo Xiying quietly said to the accompanying crowd: "It's fine, my father likes peace and quiet. Let him be for a while and take a good look. He hasn't been back here in decades and keeps reminiscing..."

The elderly man, with his hands behind his back and being supported by his daughter, turned around and smiled, humbly saying: "Old man here, when I was born, the Japanese devils were sweeping through Luzhou, that was in the autumn of 1942... Just look, in the blink of an eye, how many years have passed since the Sino-Japanese friendship began. A lifetime is but a fleeting moment, like the fleeting autumn of grass and trees, and in the blink of an eye, the sun is setting over the western hills"

All along, Professor Zuo has given people the impression of being kind, open-minded, and composed. Unexpectedly, just moments after sharing laughter and conversation, he was suddenly in tears. However, no one found any shame in his tears; rather, they felt a deeper sense of affection and respect for this kind elder.

In an instant, Zuo Nan was overwhelmed with tears, trembling and no longer able to ascend the mountain with steadiness. His steps faltered, and his daughter Zuo Xiying, along with those accompanying them, hurried to support him. The elderly man pushed everyone away, unsteadily moving forward, leaning against the decayed doorframe, sobbing as he slowly sat down. His trembling hands grasped a handful of barren soil, and he took a deep breath, as if he had caught a whiff of his hometown's scent. Large, murky tears fell from his eyes onto his veined hands, dripping onto the black and yellow earth of his homeland. His chest heaved with sobs, tears streaming uncontrollably. His daughter quickly took out a bottle to offer it to him, but he blocked her, not only preventing her from coming closer but also stopping the others who approached.

No one stepped forward to disturb him, as he gazed at the old man who seemed utterly heartbroken, leaning against the door frame, calling out for his grandmother and parents, mumbling and shedding tears for a while. After a moment, when his mind was somewhat clearer, he murmured: "Let me be alone for a moment... let me be alone for a moment... I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

There were hardly any people left, an uncle passed away in the 1970s, that was the last time I returned here. When I came back, there were still a few families in the village, but now they have all moved away. It truly is a case of the sea turning into mulberry fields, a hundred years have passed in the blink of an eye. When I was born, my mother was a member of the Women's Relief Association, and my father was an instructor at the Second Branch of the Anti-Japanese Military University, not far from here in Wuxiang, close to the former headquarters of the Eighth Route Army. To put it bluntly, I can be considered a genuine second-generation red, but back then, being a second-generation red was not a good life. The feelings I can remember are hunger and fear. The clearest memory I have is that whenever I heard gunfire, my grandmother would pick me up and hide me in the cellar. After the victory in the War of Resistance, there was another civil war, and this place became the main battlefield of the Shangdang Campaign. I was still being held by my grandmother and hidden in the cellar every day. At that time, conscription was quite severe. One of my childhood playmates, who was only twelve or thirteen years old and slightly taller, was forcibly taken away to join the Nationalist Army. Until the national liberation, my parents went south with the army. When they left, they gave me the name 'Nanxia.' It was not until I was thirteen, when my grandmother passed away, that they brought me to Fujian, and that was when I finally started school.

In addition to a minister and a deputy mayor, there were also two young individuals from the publicity department and the municipal party office. They were not very old, and their attention was primarily focused on the daughter of Old Left. Occasionally, their furtive glances could not help but compare her with their impressions of the opposite sex, yet they clearly found no one who surpassed her. Her demeanor was very refined, embodying the type of lady who smiles without showing her teeth. Such ladies are already rare, and it is even more exceptional to find a beautiful one. If beauty is further complemented by a distinguished family background, then such a woman is beyond the reach of these minor officials.

As they sighed, their footsteps did not cease, filled with a profound and dignified sense of homesickness. The girl supporting the elderly man turned back to glance, and the one speaking was Minister Xu from the Municipal Propaganda Department, accompanying to revisit his hometown. The local minister waved his hand, and the reservoir manager approached. At this moment, he quietly inquired of the reservoir manager, who softly introduced the details: the year of migration, the number of batches, how many people migrated at that time, and where they all relocated. However, this information dates back twenty years, and it is likely that even the manager could not provide a clear account.

The two individuals, not on good terms, dared to speak loudly, chuckling softly as they walked slowly behind. The few in front, however, were relatively silent. Aside from Minister Xu, who was slightly older, the deputy mayor was a young official under forty, clearly lacking common ground with the elderly gentleman, who was said to be a retired professor from a university in the south. Their interaction consisted mainly of polite formalities, which made the atmosphere somewhat awkward. As the deputy mayor approached the summit, he managed to greet the old man and casually inquired about his relatives at home. The elderly man, with his white hair and youthful demeanor, responded while walking:

Old Master Luo, your health and age do not seem to match; you walk with remarkable agility

"Let's tackle it from both sides. The investor in aluminum-zinc chemicals, Zuo Xirong, is the eldest daughter of Mr. Zuo. As for Mr. Zuo himself, he has a deep understanding of folk culture. I heard from Minister Xu that there seems to be an intention to establish a folk culture museum in the Luzhou area. This is a soft indicator, which naturally falls under our publicity department." Another person conveyed the intention. However, a companion cast a glance at Miss Zuo, clearly not focused on culture, and quietly shifted the topic back, asking: "I have seen General Zuo; he must be over forty, right? Look at this young lady, how old can she be? Could she be General Zuo's younger sister?" However, a companion cast a glance at Miss Zuo, clearly not focused on culture, and quietly shifted the topic back, asking: "I have seen General Zuo; he must be over forty, right? Look at this young lady, how old can she be? Could she be General Zuo's younger sister?"

Seeing her father somewhat lost in the past and rambling on, his daughter, Zuo Xiying, changed the subject and said: "Dad, when I was young, I always listened to you tell stories about our hometown. Seeing it in person is so much better than I imagined, it's no worse than Gulangyu. Especially the mountains and waters here, the environment is so good, it has completely overturned my previous impressions of the North"