1978 Synthetic Writers

Chapter 610 The Veteran's Poem
Jiang Sicheng joined the army at the age of 11.

Later, when I was 14, people said to retreat, saying that the place was easy to defend, had a suitable climate, and had sufficient food reserves, and that we could return in a few years.

Jiang Sicheng became a common soldier.

Unaware of their surroundings, they left their hometown with 60 other people.

As a result, he became a "lost" member of the family and lost contact with his family from then on.

From this departure onward, homesickness becomes a shallow strait, with me on this side and the mainland on the other.

Over the course of thirty years, Jiang Sicheng, with his outstanding abilities, had long since become a leader in the army, and his salary and benefits were quite good.

Despite living a good life, Jiang Sicheng's homesickness did not diminish; on the contrary, it grew stronger.

He often told a few close friends about his desire to go home and visit his family, but they thought he was being naive.

In today's world, it's uncertain whether you can even go back. Even if you do, everything has changed over the years, and you might not even know if your parents and family are still alive. Why bother risking your life to go back?

Some people might ask, wouldn't people from the hometown write letters to inquire?
Of course, I can write.

However, most of them were detained.

Some people suggested that he should quickly find a woman to marry and have children, and just make do for the rest of his life.

Despite his friends' advice, Jiang Sicheng remained steadfast. Although he had married and started a family in the area over the years, his desire to return home remained undiminished. Even with a family, it was not a reason for him not to go home.

A few years ago, after retiring, Jiang Sicheng's life suddenly became dull.

Most veterans are too old to do physical labor and have no family to accompany them; their monthly subsidies can only cover their basic living expenses.

While their peers in the local community have grandchildren and family fortunes, the veterans can only reminisce about the past over a few meals of noodles and a few cups of sorghum liquor among their comrades.

Many veterans eventually moved into veterans' homes, which, to put it nicely, were "supported" by the government, but in reality, they were still all alone.

Jiang Sicheng is in a slightly better position because he has built a family here, and has his own family members and assets.

But when he was bored, he would often think of his parents at home, and would space out. He would fantasize countless times about being able to return to his hometown, and tears would well up in his eyes as he thought about it.

Finally, with the recent easing of policies and the removal of the iron bars, the wandering veterans finally had the opportunity to return home.

Seeing that he had the opportunity to go home to visit his family, Jiang Sicheng signed up early and tried every means to get his former boss to help him apply for the qualification to visit his family.

This time, everything seemed to go very smoothly, and Jiang Sicheng was included in the first batch of people to return to their hometown to visit relatives.

After a long and arduous journey, I finally made it back to my hometown.

Having been away from home for many years, everything in my hometown is no longer the same as I remember.

At the village entrance, Jiang Sicheng paced back and forth for a long time, feeling uneasy, until he was noticed by a farmer from the village:
"Who are you? Are you lurking around here? Did you steal our old hen?" The other person immediately confronted Jiang Sicheng aggressively.

Jiang Sicheng smiled and asked very politely, "Excuse me, does the Jiang family still live here?"

"Old Jiang's family?"

The other person looked at him with some surprise, "Which Jiang family? Who are you?"

This foreigner with a strange accent and fashionable clothes also attracted the attention of other villagers, who gathered around.

"It's the old Jiang family by the old locust tree, the Jiang Gou Dan'er family. I'm Jiang Gou Dan'er's son. Is he still alive?" Jiang Sicheng asked with anticipation, his eyes filled with tears.

"Jiang Gou Dan'er?"

"Uncle Dog Egg?"

"Chengwazi!"

At this moment, an elderly farmer with gray hair rushed out from the crowd, looking at Jiang Sicheng with excitement, "Is that you? Chengwazi! It's your brother Yongsheng!"

"Yongsheng? Brother Yongsheng?!"

Jiang Sicheng's childhood memories gradually resurfaced, and the blurry figures in his memories slowly overlapped with the person in front of him.

“Brother Yongsheng! It’s been so many years since we last saw each other!” Jiang Sicheng cried tears of joy.

"Yes!"

The old man, called Yongsheng, wiped his eyes and said, "You...you're still alive? We've had no news of you for so many years, we all thought you were dead!"

"me."

Jiang Sicheng choked up and couldn't speak. He skipped the topic and hurriedly asked, "Brother Yongsheng, are my parents still alive?"

"Uncle Gou Dan'er is still here, but your mother... sigh, let's go home first, I'll take you home."

Upon hearing Yongsheng's words, Jiang Sicheng was overcome with grief and nearly fainted. However, the thought that his father was still alive brought him some comfort.

"Uncle Gou Dan'er, Uncle Gou Dan'er, look who's back!" Old Man Yong Sheng led Jiang Sicheng to the outside of a mud house and called out to the courtyard before even going inside.

The courtyard gate creaked open, and an elderly man with a hunched back and a full head of white hair leaned on a cane and shakily leaned out.

Time had etched deep and shallow lines on his face, but Jiang Sicheng recognized those dim, yellowish eyes at a glance.
—It was his father, whom he had longed for for decades.

"Who is it?" The old man asked in a hoarse voice, squinting as he tried to make out the blurry figure in the backlight.

"Father—!" Jiang Sicheng knelt down with a thud, and the longing, guilt and anticipation that had accumulated for thirty years burst forth with this cry.

He hugged his father's thin legs, his shoulders trembling violently, and he sobbed uncontrollably.

"It's me, Father! It's Sicheng! Your son Sicheng is back!"

The cane in Jiang Gou Dan's hand fell to the ground with a "clatter".

He shuddered, his withered hands trembling as he slowly stroked Jiang Sicheng's head, from his hair to his cheeks, over and over again, as if to confirm that this was not a dream.

"Chengcheng? Is it really my Chengcheng?" The old man's voice trembled, and cloudy tears streamed down his deep wrinkles. "You...you're still alive? They all said you were dead."

"I'm alive, Dad, I'm alive!" Jiang Sicheng raised his head so his father could see him more clearly. "I'm back! I've come back to see you!"

More and more villagers gathered to watch, and the sounds of discussion, exclamations, and wiping away tears rose and fell.

Old man Yongsheng wiped away his tears as he helped explain, "Uncle Gou Dan'er, it's Sicheng! Your Sicheng is back! He's come back from over there to see you! He hasn't died all these years!"

Jiang Gou Dan seemed to only then truly come to his senses. He tried to pull his son up, his voice trembling with tears yet full of strength:

"Get up, get up quickly! Let your mother see you."

At this point, the old man paused, a mixture of immense joy and profound sorrow culminating in a long sigh:
"Your mother... your mother didn't live to see this day."

With the help of Yongsheng and several neighbors, the father and son walked into the low mud house.

The room was simply furnished, but kept very clean. On the wall opposite the door hung a faded black-and-white photograph. The woman in the photograph had a kind face; she was Jiang Sicheng's mother. In front of the photograph was a small incense burner.

Jiang Sicheng walked to the photo, knelt down again, and kowtowed three times deeply: "Mother, your unfilial son Sicheng has returned."

His choked words couldn't express the regrets of half a lifetime. People from all around rushed to see what was happening, and the village secretary and his officials quickly arrived at Jiang Sicheng's house to ask him if he needed any help.

The small mud house was suddenly packed with people: relatives who had come after hearing the news, old neighbors, and curious young men.
Jiang Sicheng distributed the candy and cigarettes he had brought.

He answered everyone's questions again and again, recounting his experiences over the years.

But most of the time, his gaze never left his elderly father.

He held his father's rough, bark-like hand tightly, listening as he recounted his mother's dying words, the changes in the village over the years, which elderly people had passed away, and which new babies had been born.
The Jiang family was immersed in the atmosphere of reunion all day long.

As darkness fell, the villagers slowly began to leave.

Afterwards, Jiang Sicheng, his father, and his siblings who had rushed home sat down together for dinner. The family finally had time to chat about the events of the past forty years.

Under the oil lamp, the father and son sat facing each other. Jiang Sicheng carefully peeled the eggs and put them into his father's bowl.

"Dad, have an egg."

"Okay, okay, you eat too." Jiang Gou Dan shakily scooped up the thickest part of the yolk with a spoon and insisted on feeding it to his son.

After the meal, Jiang Sicheng brought hot water and insisted on washing his father's feet.

When he took off his father's worn-out cloth socks and saw his feet, deformed from years of hard work and covered with calluses and frostbite scars, tears welled up uncontrollably once again.

He rubbed it carefully, as if trying to wash away all the hardships his father had endured alone over the past thirty years.

"Father, you've suffered so much."

"It's not hard, it's not hard. With you back, everything is alright for Dad." Jiang Gou Dan murmured, stroking his son's graying hair. "It's just... your mother wasn't blessed."

After dinner, Jiang Gou Dan quietly asked Jiang Si Cheng to come with him.

Jiang Sicheng followed him into a room, completely bewildered.

Jiang Gou Dan carefully drew the curtains, making sure no one was outside, before he felt relieved.

Just as Jiang Sicheng was about to ask something, his father suddenly asked him to help move a cabinet.

Jiang Sicheng had no choice but to do as his father said, and together they moved the old wooden cabinet. Unexpectedly, a long crack in the wall was revealed behind the cabinet.

The father then reached into the crack in the wall behind him, carefully felt around for a while, and finally took out an iron box.

Upon seeing the tin box, a smile couldn't help but appear on Jiang Gou Dan's face.

Jiang Sicheng watched as his father opened the tin box, inside which were neatly stacked several thousand yuan.

Just as he was wondering what was going on, his father smiled and stuffed the money into his hand: "Son, you work hard to earn money, keep this safe."

Looking at the money in front of him, Jiang Sicheng couldn't hold back his tears again and knelt down in front of his father with a thud: "Dad, keep this money. Your son is unfilial and can't support you in your old age."

That night, the father and son barely slept a wink on the earthen bed.

There are endless things to talk about, and there are also moments when simply lying quietly, listening to each other's breathing, brings immense peace of mind.

Jiang Sicheng knew that his home across the strait represented responsibility and warmth, but this land beneath his feet, this dilapidated mud house, was the root of his spirit, the nest he would eventually return to after a lifetime of wandering.

The next day, led by village officials, Jiang Sicheng went to the hillside behind the village.

There, a grave stands quietly, its mound overgrown with green grass.

He brought his mother's favorite snacks, lit incense and candles, and burned paper money.

"Mother, your unfilial son is late."

He knelt before the grave, his forehead pressed against the cool earth, and remained there for a long time.

The mountain breeze carries the scent of earth and grass, like a mother's whisper.

In the days that followed, Jiang Sicheng accompanied his father, visiting every corner of the village.

With the camera he brought, he took pictures of the old house, his father, the villagers, and the old locust tree at the entrance of the village that was still flourishing.

This family visit is time-limited; he will eventually have to return to his home across the strait.

But this time, his heart was no longer hanging in mid-air.

He secretly planned to bring his wife and children back to visit his father while his father was still in good health.

The time for parting finally came.

Under the old locust tree at the village entrance, Jiang Gou Dan held his son's hand tightly, all his unspoken words condensed into one sentence:
"Chengwa, write often, and come back when you have the chance."

"Dad, don't worry, I'll be back as soon as possible! Please take care of yourself!" Jiang Sicheng, with red eyes, hugged his thin father tightly.

The car bumped and jolted away from the village, the dust it kicked up gradually blurring the old locust tree and the still-standing figure of the father.

Jiang Sicheng finally withdrew his gaze and leaned heavily back in his chair, as if the reunion that had just exhausted half of his energy had drained him of all his support.

He subconsciously stroked the thin family visit pass in his hand, the document proving his "legal" return, his gaze falling once again on the two simple lines of small print on the back:
"The journey home is always longer than the journey of getting lost, longer than a lifetime."

"Reunions are always fewer than farewells, only one less."

With just one glance, tears welled up again, blurring her vision.

"What a poem!"

“It’s so well written!”

Jiang Sicheng couldn't help but sigh.

On his way here, he was full of anticipation, but his feelings about the poem were still somewhat distant.

Returning at this moment, these few words are like a cold key, clicking open all the emotions that have been pent up for more than thirty years, each word striking his heart.

What is "lost"?
Was it when I was eleven years old that I unknowingly put on an ill-fitting military uniform?

When I was fourteen, I followed the crowd onto that ship that I thought would soon return.

Or perhaps it was every day and night afterward, in a foreign land, gazing towards the strait, longing for home?
What about the "return journey"?

The physical "return journey" is merely a short trip of a few days.

The real "journey home" is the journey my soul has taken over the past few decades, crossing the strait time and time again in my dreams, and the spiritual journey I've undertaken countless nights while gazing at the bright moon and imagining my parents' faces.

This road is too long.

He lived to see most of his life.

He grew up until his mother finally didn't finish the road of waiting and met him.

Nearly forty years, more than ten thousand days and nights, have consumed his youth and turned his temples white.

This "journey home" is truly longer than most of his life that has already passed!
(End of this chapter)