My Childhood

 　　After the early rice planting was finished, the adults stopped working, but we children got busy. Under the cover of night, we carried lanterns and searched for eels along the field ridges and in the ditches. Frogs remained steadfast in their "base," enthusiastically displaying their calls to their companions, their calls rising and falling in a nocturnal march. My eyes were fixed on the point where light met water, hoping to spot a nocturnal eel.

　　Once, I found a very thick eel near a telephone pole. I used bamboo tongs to lock it tightly, and the eel darted away. The water in the paddy field was shallow, and the splashes it made as it writhed in the water attracted me. I quickly followed and finally caught it in my fish basket! I was overjoyed and ran around the field several times. That was the biggest eel I had ever caught in my life, weighing a full pound.

　　As the wheat harvest approached, I had a major task: guarding the wheat fields and chasing away sparrows that came to steal food. Holding a long bamboo pole, I ran proudly along the edge of the wheat field. The wind blew, and the wheat waves rolled, one after another, like silk ribbons spread out, engulfing my small frame. At that moment, I felt like I had become a golden ear of wheat, small yet sturdy.

　　Summer was the happiest season of my childhood. The warm sunshine shone on every inch of the village, making everyone feel drowsy. We would gather in groups of three or five, wading barefoot into the lotus pond river. The water flowed between my toes, gently kissing my feet, tenderly expressing its affection. Then, we would jump and hop in the river, startling away the small fish and shrimp. However, as soon as things calmed down, bold and fearless fish and shrimp would swim around my feet, seemingly testing the waters for danger. At that moment, I felt like I had a magical summoning spell, able to call the fish and shrimp to me at will, and send them away at a moment's notice. Afterwards, we stripped off our clothes and joyfully plunged into the water, chasing each other, splashing each other, and seeing who could swim the farthest and longest… The first time we went into the water, we dared not venture into the deep end, cautiously staying on the riverbank. Mischievous friends would sometimes drag us into the deeper water when we weren't looking, inevitably causing us to swallow some water before being brought back to shore. Over time, we learned to swim.

　　On summer nights, after dinner, neighbors would spontaneously bring their mats and stools to the flood control embankment of the Lotus Pond River to cool off. The riverbank was covered with wild grasses and shrubs, and unknown insects lurked in the grass, chirping softly and melodiously. Fireflies, appearing and disappearing intermittently, adorned the night sky with vibrant colors, adding a touch of warmth and romance to the summer nights in this water town. The adults fanned themselves with banana leaf fans; some lay down listening to the chirping of insects, some talked about the crops in the fields and planned the next steps in farm work, some told tales of chivalry and legends… We enjoyed the cool river breeze while listening to the adults' stories. Occasionally, the adults would tell ghost stories, making them full of twists and turns, embellishing them with fantastical imagery, making our scalps tingle and our backs shiver. It was as if ghosts and monsters were lurking in some dark corner nearby, watching us, ready to suddenly slip out and snatch us away. We were both afraid and eager to listen, so we squeezed into the crowd, afraid of being left out.

　　In autumn, after the sweet potato harvest, after my mother finished cooking, she would leave a few embers in the stove, select sweet potatoes of suitable size, and put them in, letting the unburnt ashes bury them. After about half an hour, my mother would use fire tongs to peel out a sweet potato whose skin had been roasted until it was slightly charred. She juggled the sweet potato between her hands like a juggler, patting and turning it while blowing on the ashes. Once it cooled slightly, she handed it to me. I eagerly took a bite; it was sweet and fragrant, smooth and soft—delicious!

　　Night fell, the moon rose, and those were the most carefree and relaxed times for us children. After dinner, we shouted loudly outside our neighbors' houses. Then, we gathered in the open space in front of or behind one of our friends' houses, using whatever was available—scattered sticks—as "weapons." We divided into two camps and began to "fight." In an instant, the tranquil moonlit night was broken by our shouts and the clanging of sticks. Tired, we lay on the grass. The stars in the sky blinked frequently, and we couldn't resist trying to count them, but we could never finish. It was then that we learned which was the North Star, which was Polaris, and the Milky Way in the night sky.

　　In winter, the happiest thing was catching fish. In the ditch, we'd cut sections of ten or twenty meters at a time with mud, then use basins and buckets to scoop water out, one bucket at a time. When only a little water remained in the center, the fish and loaches would be exposed naked on the mud at the bottom, jumping and leaping in fright. We'd start catching them, feeling around and scooping them up. Back home, we'd keep the fish and shrimp in clean water for half a day, then gut and clean them. Then, a meat dish would appear on our table.

　　I'll never forget the winter of 1970. A heavy snowfall transformed the world into a silver-white wonderland. The lotus pond behind our house was covered with a thick layer of ice. My friends and I braved the wind and snow, screaming and gliding joyfully on the ice, chasing and playing to our hearts' content. As we rushed towards the center of the river, we suddenly heard a faint cracking sound in the ice. Startled, I pressed harder with my feet, and icy water filled my shoes. Perhaps out of instinct for survival, we turned and sprinted towards the shore at an incredible speed, perhaps even surpassing the world record later set by Liu Xiang.

　　And so, I grew up day by day, becoming more sensible, running and sprinting into adolescence.