My heart is tied to that sky

Just after the fourth day of the Lunar New Year in 1993, before the festive atmosphere had even faded, the tide of people returning to work had already swept over the mountains.

A silent "great migration" has begun across the vast land of southern Hunan.

The muddy, rough road at the village entrance was crowded with "28-inch" bicycles coming to look for work.

Most of them were bulky "Phoenix" brand bicycles, with bulging snakeskin bags tied to the back seats. The bicycle bells jingled, mingling with the shouts of adults urging them on, waking up the sleeping villages and towns.

This is a "bicycle ridesharing" spontaneously organized by the villagers, carrying families to the town's bus station.

In front of the steamy ticket window, a dense crowd surged toward the narrow ticket gate.

The whistle of the green train came from afar, like the roar of a giant beast, pulling countless spines bent by life, once again towards the concrete jungle of the south.

Amid this massive influx of people returning to work, the Tang family's old house in Tangtian Town remained remarkably quiet.

Tang Muyang leaned against the door frame of his house, his heart longing for that sky.

Xiao Xiaoyan, who stayed in the special economic zone, still working hard to save up for tuition. "Will she be waiting for me this spring?" He was about to head south, carrying with him his longing for Xiao Xiaoyan.

He knew that although his future was uncertain, his determination was clear. It was a moment of "rising passion," the starting point for his struggle.

Her vast universe awaits her to illuminate it herself.

Tang Muyang's determination to strive is to truly take that step this spring.

He has endured hardship and remains undaunted by challenges; this is the truest reflection of him at this moment.

He doesn't have a preference for "bitterness," but only by experiencing all the bitterness of life can that the unsatisfactory sourness, the lingering sweetness, and the spiciness truly mature and become rich over time.

Suffering is the foundation of his growth experience, and also the cornerstone of his eventual success.

Beside the old haystack at the village entrance, withered yellow grass stalks shivered in the cold wind.

Three boys sat around a small fire burning on a pile of dry branches. The orange-red flames danced on their young, rough faces, reflecting three completely different expressions.

Tang Jianguo held the half-crispy cigarette in his hand, took a deep drag, coughed twice, but his eyes gleamed.

"Muyang, you've been there. Everyone says the Special Economic Zone is paved with gold. You can get rich just by picking up trash, is that true?"

Peng Jiahui leaned forward and chimed in, "They spend money like water over there."

He pushed up the glasses on the bridge of his nose, the frames of which were wrapped with tape, and his eyes behind the lenses were frighteningly calm.

"Special economic zones are not garbage dumps. Founding a nation is a sign of incompetence and lack of vision; those who go there will only be drifters."

"I was arrested and sent back as an undocumented person, and I didn't even have the money for the return trip."

Tang Muyang stared at the flickering flames without saying a word. A spark landed on the back of his hand, burning him and making him wince.

He then firmly extended his hand back, letting the burning pain remind him to stay alert.

His voice wasn't loud, but it was like a nail driven into frozen ground—solid, powerful, and carrying an undeniable resolve.

"I'll go explore again this year, save up money for a year, and build up my courage for a year."

"When the time comes, whether I'm scavenging for scraps or building rockets, once I'm better, brothers, come straight for me. We'll be together through thick and thin. If we become rich and powerful, let's not forget each other."

Three hands clasped tightly together in the cold wind, the sweat on their palms mingling with the smell of earth, signing the most sincere words of the young man.

It is also the heaviest, a covenant belonging to the youths of southern Hunan, without blood, yet thicker than blood.

On the eve of his departure, Tang Zhiye sat on the doorstep, the embers of his pipe flickering in the darkness.

Like a lonely star, it illuminated the old man's deeply lined face.

"Father, I'm leaving."

The next day, Tang Muyang stood at the gate of the courtyard, pulling a suitcase that was a step above the snakeskin bag. A brand-new towel and a half-empty bottle of chili sauce were sticking out of the bag.

The old man tapped his pipe, producing a crisp "thud" that was particularly jarring in the early morning light, as if stamping a heavy mark on the journey.

"When you're out in the world, talk less and do more."

"Don't be too honest like your brother and get taken advantage of, and don't be too cunning like a hooligan and get hated."

"Don't worry about home. As long as you stand up straight, your father's back won't bend." "As long as you're a decent person outside, your father is the master at home."

Faced with his father's series of instructions, Tang Muyang nodded emphatically, his throat feeling like it was stuffed with cotton, so sore that he couldn't make a sound.

He turned and rushed into the morning mist, not daring to look back.

He feared that if he turned around and saw his father's hunched figure, half of his newly ignited ambition would be extinguished.

As he passed by his grandmother's grave, he stopped and respectfully kowtowed three times.

With his forehead pressed against the cold soil, feeling the chill emanating from the earth, he said, "Grandma, your grandson can earn money on his own now."

"When I come back, I'll burn you the biggest paper house, with a TV and a refrigerator, so you can enjoy life over there."

The wind rustles through the camellia grove, sounding like an old man's gentle response, or perhaps a helpless sigh.

He brushed the dirt off his knees, and the childishness in his eyes faded even further.

This time, he was not a runaway child, but a soldier going to war.

The green train was still crowded, the air thick with a mingled stench of instant noodles, sweat, and foot odor. But Tang Muyang was no longer as panicked as he had been the first time.

Like a slippery fish, he carried his baggage through the crowd, protecting his burning heart.

Upon arriving in the special economic zone, he didn't rush to find Xiao Xiaoyan, whose feelings for him had faded.

Instead, he went straight to his sister, Tang Xiuying, who was also spending the Lunar New Year in the Special Economic Zone and working overtime.

Tang Xiuying's "residence" was just a row of low, dilapidated bungalows at the back of the factory area, which locals called "handshake buildings".

The distance between the two buildings is so close that you can hold your neighbor's hand if you stand at the window.

The dormitory was also crammed with more than a dozen people in one room, and the musty smell and the smell of cheap face cream mixed together to ferment into a nauseatingly sweet smell.

Tang Xiuying slept on the top bunk, and when she turned over, it made a creaking sound, as if it might collapse at any moment.

Upon seeing her younger brother, she jumped down in surprise, accidentally bumping her head on a low beam.

Forcing a smile despite the pain, she said, "It's alright, it's alright. This house is sturdy; it won't break."

"Sis, you live here?" Tang Muyang looked at his sister teasing him, feeling both sorry for her and amused.

In the blackened corner, mold was sizzling and growing, like greedy mouths.

Seeing this environment, his heart felt as if it had been pierced by a fine needle, so painful that his breath caught in his throat for a moment.

"Yang Yazi, this is good, at least you have a roof over your head." The older sister smiled, but the fine lines at the corners of her eyes were particularly glaring in the dim light.

Those are the marks etched by time and toil.

Tang Muyang didn't rush back to Hengxin Gem Factory. He stayed in his sister's dormitory for a few days, spending his days with his sister and quietly observing the factory area from the gate.

He didn't look at the tall buildings or the neon lights; he only looked at the workers coming and going.

Observe the color of the work uniforms, the expressions on their faces, and the orderliness when queuing for meals.

He discovered that the Hengxin Gem Factory, where he worked with Xiao Xiaoyan and his brother Tang Pingsheng, was still in good order.

Those with a gleam in their eyes walk with a confident stride, looking like generals even when wearing the same blue overalls.

Those with numb eyes have long been worn down into nails on an assembly line, impossible to break even, their eyes as empty as two dry wells.

"Sister, I want to go back to Hengxin." The sign for "Hengxin Gem Factory" popped into his mind.

Tang Muyang didn't want to linger, so he handed the cured meat and pig's blood sausage he had brought from his hometown to his sister.

"Yang Yazi, your sister is far away, you must listen to your brother." Tang Xiuying, with tears in her eyes, stuffed 500 yuan into his hand.

"Sister, I still have money, and I can earn money too." Tang Muyang thought about how hard his sister had worked, and how she sent back more money to him every year than he did.

She had reached the age to get married and needed to save up some money for her dowry.

Thinking of this, he not only pushed the money his sister offered back, but also took out 200 yuan from his pocket and forced it on his sister.

"Sis, you go to work, I'm leaving." After saying that, she picked up her suitcase and walked towards the bus station without looking back.

As he turned around, Tang Muyang realized that a tear had quietly slid down his cheek.

After saying goodbye to my sister Tang Xiuying, the minibus took half an hour to reach Hengxin.

The gemstone workshop here will expand production after the Lunar New Year and is recruiting a new batch of workers.

Most of the workers were women, and job seekers lined up in long queues. A loudspeaker was playing a loop of "Urgently hiring QC and testers," the voice hoarse and urgent.

In front of the recruitment booth of Hengxin Gem Factory, several types of jobs are posted in red paper with black lettering: material cutting, grinding, polishing, mold making, setting, and the most basic packaging and handling.

Tang Muyang didn't squeeze into the assembly line of job seekers at the registration area, nor did he rush to see Xiao Xiaoyan.

I dragged my suitcase straight back to the dormitory, put it away quickly, and then met my brother, Tang Pingsheng, downstairs. He hadn't gone home for the Chinese New Year.

"Brother, I don't want to do manual labor anymore. I need to learn a skill." Tang Muyang got straight to the point.

Tang Pingsheng nodded and patted him on the shoulder: "Come on, I'll take you to see the director."

The workshop foreman in charge of assignments, surnamed Huang, was flipping through the roster when Tang Pingsheng stepped forward to greet him, half-jokingly saying:

"Director Huang, this is my brother. Please arrange a job for him. Don't let him go to the moving group anymore. Let him learn how to polish and mold making."

Director Huang looked up, saw the brothers' similar faces, and remembered Tang Pingsheng's consistently solid work ethic, then waved his hand dismissively:

"Alright, for your brother's sake, go to Workshop 3 and start by learning grinding and mold making. Work a full month first, and don't complain about being tired."

Tang Muyang responded, changed into his blue work clothes, and then, led by his brother, formally entered the workshop.

The workshop of Hengxin Gem Factory was deafeningly noisy and filled with flying dust.

Unlike others who only focused on piecework, Tang Muyang was like an apprentice learning a skill, his eyes wide open.

Watch how the master craftsman uses a grinding wheel to polish the ring setting, and see how the mold maker uses alloy pliers to repair imperfections in the wax model.

He squatted down beside her and memorized even the smallest details of polishing and electroplating.

On the assembly line in the adjacent workshop, the air was filled with the strong smell of silicon carbide dust and the fishy odor of cooling oil.

Xiao Xiaoyan sat at her workstation by the window, her hands moving quickly as she beveled the red corundum that had just been coated with blue glue.

She wore blue dust sleeves, and the tray in front of her was piled high with semi-finished gemstones the size of grains of rice.

In order to pay for the tuition fees to go back to her hometown to repeat her studies before September 1st this year, she did not go home for the Spring Festival this year and stayed in the special economic zone to work overtime.

"Xiao Xiaoyan, this batch of goods is urgent, speed up the process!" A long voice shouted in the aisle.

"I understand," Xiao Xiaoyan replied, her hands continuing their work, but her eyes were somewhat unfocused.

She was thinking about Tang Muyang; according to the dates, he should be arriving soon.

As she wiped away the blue glue residue on the stone blank with a soft cloth, she silently wondered: Which group will he be assigned to when he arrives? Will he find it too tiring?

This worry, like a file in her hand, was grinding against her heart.

At noon, the workday bell rang like a lifeline.

Xiao Xiaoyan washed the oil off her hands and mingled with the crowd of people in blue work clothes as she walked toward the canteen.

I had just finished preparing a serving of vegetables and tofu when a familiar yet hesitant voice suddenly came from behind me.

"Xiaoyan?" She turned around abruptly and saw Tang Muyang standing behind her with a stainless steel plate.

His blue work clothes were still covered in the white dust unique to Workshop 3, but his face wore a simple yet delighted smile.

At that moment, the noise in the cafeteria seemed to be instantly shut out.

"You...you really came." Xiao Xiaoyan's eyes instantly reddened, and the composure and indifference she had prepared completely collapsed at this moment.

Tang Muyang grinned, his eyes bright and clear, showing no sign of shyness.

He handed her the plate directly, on which were placed cured meat and pig's blood sausages that he had brought from his hometown.

He was clear in his mind that since she was here, he should treat her well in a generous way, even if it was only for a few short months, he would not be ambiguous about it.

"I brought this especially for you, knowing you crave it."

"Eat more. I didn't go home for the New Year. I won't miss home if I'm full."

Their farewell last year was not a heartbreaking breakup.

At this moment, they are still that couple who depend on each other for survival in this unfamiliar city.

Xiao Xiaoyan took the lunchbox, and the familiar smoky aroma instantly filled her nostrils.

She lowered her head, and a tear fell into her lunchbox with a plop—the hottest tear of spring 1993.

Tang Muyang put down his chopsticks and gently wiped away the tears from the corners of her eyes.

The other workers eating nearby cast envious glances, and some whispered among themselves, "These two young people have such a good relationship."

At the next table, Xiao Xiaoyan's cousin silently watched this scene, secretly thinking to himself: These two children are indeed a match made in heaven.

After a month, his palms were blistered and calloused.

But he mastered the two core skills of polishing and mold making, and he knew the difficulties and time-consuming aspects of each process by heart.

This spirit of "working with one's brain" quickly caught the attention of the workshop supervisor.

The supervisor called him into the office and handed him a glass of water: "Tang Muyang, you're doing well, kid. You've mastered the basics in just one month. Your handwriting is neat, and you're quite adept at using the abacus."

We happen to be short of a part-time inspector for the finished goods warehouse. Would you be willing to go?

Tang Muyang's heart skipped a beat, but he remained outwardly calm, stood up, and nodded solemnly:

"Yes, thank you for your guidance, supervisor."

As he walked out of the office, he looked at the door at the end of the corridor leading to the warehouse.

Knowing this step ensures a steady and worthwhile journey.

The sweltering summer in the south is stifling and scorching, like a tightly sealed steamer, where even breathing feels like a burning sensation.

Tang Muyang stepped down from the assembly line and took on multiple roles, managing both the process and the finished product warehouse, like a suit of armor covering his body.

When he returned to his dormitory at night, he was so tired that he could barely lift his hands or even hold chopsticks, but he would still take out the little notebook he always carried with him to keep accounts.

Fortunately, the previous skin pain, shoulder chafing, scabbing, and repeated chafing, the excruciating skin contact is over, and a transformation has occurred.

Watching the numbers grow larger and larger, he felt a deep sense of peace. This money was earned through his own hard work, risking his life.

It wasn't obtained through begging, nor was it picked up by luck. Every penny of it represents his hard work and dedication.

For employees who lack goals and are unwilling to strive, factory life is as monotonous as a glass of plain water—bland and tasteless.

One evening while enjoying the cool air, someone suggested that Tang Muyang sing a song. Without hesitation, he cleared his throat and began to sing "Sailor".

He said, "What's a little pain in the face of wind and rain? Wipe away your tears and don't be afraid, at least we still have dreams..."

The rough, husky voice of the Hunan accent carries a stubborn, unyielding spirit, as if it has been sanded smooth.

The noisy courtyard fell silent instantly, and even the female worker next door peeked out to listen.

At that moment, he was gradually transforming the gloomy days of his job from a beam of light that refused to be extinguished into a blazing radiance.

On payday, Tang Muyang went to town.

The department store was overflowing with goods, and people in suits were going in and out of the grand hotel. The glass doors opened and closed automatically, like another world.

He touched the crumpled banknotes in his pocket and suddenly felt they were too light.

This money can't buy the suit in the shop window, or a meal in a hotel.

"I want a million dollars, I want to buy this building..." The thought, once it came to mind, grew wildly like weeds, instantly taking over his entire brain.

He finally understood that physical strength could only earn him small amounts of money, and that hard work alone wasn't enough to make a name for himself in the city. He needed to be smart, have vision, and learn to find the gold in the stones.

Xiao Xiaoyan, in the next workshop, silently offered her blessings to this lover, whom she once loved, or who still loves very much now.

His transformation made her deep dimples look like they were filled with honey.

That day, Tang Muyang cut his hand while moving goods, and the blood stained the cardboard boxes, making him gasp in pain.

She happened to be passing by, handed him a band-aid, and patiently put it on him, saying, "Be careful in the future!" Her eyes were full of heartache and worry.

"A grown man like you, not even paying attention to what you're doing while working."

Her voice was soft and gentle, like the light rain of spring in southern Hunan, falling gently on Tang Muyang's parched heart.

Tang Muyang froze on the spot, his heart skipping a beat. This was the first tenderness that had made his heart flutter, apart from that of his family.

After get off work, they often went to a small stall in the factory area to eat a bowl of hot wontons together, and Xiao Xiaoyan would carefully pick out the cilantro that he didn't like.

Tang Muyang would tell her stories about the mountains, about herding cattle, and about the sweet and sour taste of wild fruits.

In an unfamiliar city, two young hearts are still finding warmth in each other.

Tang Muyang once felt that with her by his side, even the hardest days could be endured. This cold city also felt a touch of warmth.

But beneath the gentleness, the ending was already decided.

One evening, the two sat on a stone bench downstairs in their dormitory. Xiao Xiaoyan's eyes were full of anticipation as she counted on her fingers.

"Muyang, if... we could save up enough tuition fees, and you were willing to go back to school, wouldn't that be wonderful...?"

"In the future, we can all earn money with our knowledge, build a two-story house back in our hometown, open a general store after retirement, and live a peaceful and stable life."

Tang Muyang's hand, peeling an apple, suddenly stopped; the peel broke off and drooped like a dead snake. "Back to my hometown?"

He looked up, his eyes filled with incomprehension and resentment. "I finally made it out of this mess, only to go back to such a snail's pace? I'm not reconciled."

"No matter how good this place is, it's someone else's city, and we can't stay here," Xiao Xiaoyan said matter-of-factly, her eyes reflecting the contentment of a young woman; all she wanted was a home.

As Tang Muyang gazed at the flashing neon lights in the distance, the fire in his heart reignited, fiercer than ever before.

This time, however, he was left with nothing but helplessness when faced with the girl in front of him.

On a rainy evening, she dressed up carefully, intending to go to town for a nice meal.

Tang Muyang declined her offer because he had to attend an internal lecture on "factory management" given by a Hong Kong businessman.

"Xiaoyan, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. If you miss it, it's gone forever. I need to learn something."

Xiao Xiaoyan's eyes instantly reddened, and she cried her heart out. She reached out to pull him away.

He pushed aside the security that was within his grasp and headed towards an unknown gamble.

He was no longer the boastful boy he once was; he spoke fluently and knowledgeably about production processes and cost accounting.

One evening, Tang Muyang went alone to the shed where the two of them had once sheltered from the rain, and he remembered Xiao Xiaoyan's tears.

Thinking of my hometown, Tangtian Town, which is now asleep, with endless mountains stretching into the distance.

I think of my older sister, who already has white hair before she's even married, and my father's pipe.

He slowly took out the fountain pen that he had always been reluctant to use and held it tightly in his hand.

Facing the direction of my hometown, I sketched a blueprint for the future in the air. The pen was cool to the touch, yet it burned against my heart.

"I want to succeed..." He chewed on these two words gently, as if chewing on a hard fruit, his mouth filled with saliva, yet also with pain.

A howling wind whipped at the corners of his clothes. The boy's shadow stretched long in the moonlight, like a sharp sword about to be drawn.