Yumei was three years old, squatting in front of two shabby tile-roofed houses. Her hair was messy and her little face was covered with dirt, but she blinked her big, watery eyes. She timidly glanced at the people passing by the door, then lowered her head again. He played with his head with the few delicate pebbles in his hand.
Her snot always covered half of her face with shiny black sleeves, and her small and thin lips exuded a sense of stubbornness. Wearing a tattered cotton-padded jacket with ragged lard-like cotton wool exposed under the armpits, and wearing rag shoes suitable for adults, she existed like a puppy. No one took her seriously, or even thought too much about her. No one even looked at her.
No one knows what her mother is like. Everyone knows that his father, named Feng Changshui, is a tall and thin man with long hair and a beard. He is an alcoholic who holds a bottle in his hand and walks shaking all day long. He drinks hard until he drinks to death.
No one dared to ask why he was demeaning himself like this, and no one was too lazy to care about such nonsense.
That was two years ago. Feng Changshui came back, holding a wine bottle in one hand and a one-year-old girl under his arm. He walked to the shabby house, threw the girl to the ground, and never picked him up again. .
Feng Changshui fumbled in his pocket for a long time and couldn't find the key to open the door, so he looked around for a stone on the ground, gritted his teeth, broke the rusty iron lock, and kicked the door open.
I just know that greedily sticking out my mouth to provoke the wine in the bottle, what's wrong with leading the girl to live a good life? In order for the girl to live well, Feng Changshui pursed his lips, regarded wine as his enemy, raised his neck, took a few sips, and chewed it viciously in his mouth as if he were eating.
Feng Changshui shook his head and stared at his blood-red eyes. He looked at you infatuatedly for a long time, then gritted his teeth and cursed: "Get the fuck out of your mother's side, look again, look again, I'll lock your eyes with you." Then he was confused again. He swayed and walked away with one foot high and one foot low.
Yumei was born at the wrong time, or rather in the wrong fetus. If she was born into the hands of such a person, she would be doomed to suffer a miserable life. Where did her damn mother go? The people in the village looked at each other with puzzled faces, unable to find a definite answer.
Feng Changshui walked to the door of his house while holding on to the wall. He looked at Yumei dimly, and when he found it, he struggled for a long time and pulled out half a pot helmet, or half a roast chicken, and a lotus leaf for cooking, and presented it to Yumei. As soon as he threw it away, he stumbled back into the house and fell on the bed, fell asleep, and woke up on the morning of the third day, leaving Yumei to fend for herself.
This is how their family lives.
Some people say that Feng Changshui has a big knot in his heart that he will never be able to untie in his lifetime. I heard people say that Feng Changshui had a very beautiful daughter-in-law who ran away with his good friend. Some people also said that his wife died because of Feng Changshui.
Feng Changshui couldn't think about it anymore and continued to decline like this...
No one has any clue as to what is going on.
Suddenly, Feng Changshui drank less and walked like a human being. He built a thatched shed at the east end of the village, surrounded it with a fence, and installed a broken wooden door.
I carried a grinder back from somewhere, connected the water pipes, set up wires, and set up a simple jade carving table. He came back with a huge pile of jade scraps.
It also took a whole day to twist a cowhide whip very carefully. Everyone looked at this madman Feng Changshui with strange eyes from a distance. What else was going on?
Feng Changshui led Yumei to the shed, with a frustrated face, pointed at the carving table with his whip, and asked Yumei to sit on it and try it. Then he asked Yumei to come down, put two layers of bricks under the stool, and raised his chin again. He signaled to go up and try again, then nodded and started to let Yumei learn carving.
Yumei was five years old that year.
Yumei looked timidly at Feng Changshui, then looked back at these crappy things, but she didn't know how to start. Feng Changshui raised his whip and hit Yumei hard on her body. Bloody scars suddenly appeared on the thin bones of her body. On the bed, the painful girl cried loudly. The more she cried, the tighter the whip fell, and the girl was so scared that she held her breath and refused to cry.
Yumei stood aside stupidly, watching Feng Changshui pick up a piece of jade and grind it roughly on the grinding wheel, grinding off the edges and sharp corners. The outline of the rough carving had already appeared. Feng Changshui held half a pencil and sketched on the jade material. Draw out the lines, draw them into a pony, then put them on the grinding wheel, unscrew the water pipe, light and heavy, tilted, rotated, and polished skillfully.
It only took a pack of cigarettes to create a sculpture. It was so small and exquisite that it was so cute. Yumei was so dumbfounded that she forgot about the pain. She raised her sleeves to wipe away the glistening tears, and couldn't help but walk up to it. As a result, the little jade horse showed up on her face. of joy.
When Yumei started to fiddle with it herself, she was clumsy. Beads of sweat oozed from her anxious forehead, and her little hands trembled disobediently. At this time, the leather whip will hit him mercilessly and severely. .
With her shrinking little body, she bit her lip and did not stop for a moment under the whip. She was strong and held the pencil tip in her hand tightly without hesitation, drawing and painting, and then drawing and painting, until she could draw herself. Satisfied, he turned back to look at Feng Changshui's stern eyes pleadingly. Feng Changshui raised his chin fiercely.
Yumei began to polish it carefully. The jade piece, which was neither a pig nor a rabbit, was hot in Yumei's hands. It didn't look like a horse. She was so frightened that Yumei struggled to breathe and hugged her with both hands. His head curled up into a ball hard, and the hateful leather whip chirped down again.
