This time Dali Normal University is really going to disappear completely. Three family buildings were suddenly included in the demolition list. After several negotiations, an agreement was reached. Some teachers signed and moved within the next month. Leaving, maybe in two months, under the roar of the excavator, it will turn into a pile of ruins, and then it will turn into a construction site, and it will be unimaginable after that.
Saying goodbye to the campus where I have lived for more than 20 years, saying goodbye to the flowers and trees in the yard, and saying goodbye to the neighbors who once helped each other, my mood became complicated. Maybe this farewell is an eternal farewell in this life. We go our separate ways and live a long road. Where is our destination? A nostalgia, a reluctance, and a heartache.
The house has been rented to others for many years. This time I went to see it to say goodbye to it.
Walking into the yard, my nose smelled a long-lost but once extremely familiar smell. The yard is a bit messy. There are advertisements for scraps, old furniture, and house sales posted on the walls. There are also some vehicles being moved. I'm so anxious.
A gray-haired old man passed by. It was Teacher Zhao Zhongxiao. He was still upright and tall. The years of wind and frost left a deep sense of vicissitudes on his face, but what remained unchanged was Thick eyebrows, sword-like eyes, a Chinese character face, and a serious look on his face. When he first arrived at the Normal University, he was around fifty and considered a "handsome uncle". He had previously been the dean of academic affairs and was extremely serious in preparing lessons. In just one short section, he could write more than ten pages of lesson plans, with neat workmanship and meticulous graphics. It can be called a classic. Year after year, day after day, I would always see him hunched over his desk studying. During class, he would not read the textbooks or lesson plans at all. He would speak eloquently, as if the clouds were flowing smoothly, and he would write as he spoke. After a class, he would have a blackboard, which is exactly what he wanted to use. It is like a beautiful calligraphy masterpiece, accompanied by pictures, with exquisite layout and ingenious workmanship, which makes people applaud. My heartfelt thanks to Teacher Zhao for his guidance to my wife and me over the years, which has enabled us to move forward more steadily and further. Next to him is his granddaughter. The little girl who was four or five years old often came to the office to see his grandfather. Now she is almost thirty years old. Her innocence has turned into maturity and stability. Time is really a knife. The passionate conversation with my grandfather and grandson was like going back to the past. The Buddha said that it took five hundred times of looking back at the past life to pass by each other in this life. What should be the fate of our roommate for more than ten years?
Walking further in, I saw Teacher Ma Yixiang again. Teacher Ma is over eighty this year. He is not tall, but he is strong and steady, with sharp eyes and ears. He hurriedly came up to say hello, but Teacher Ma still didn’t speak. Don't be too slow, word for word, clear and confident. He was once considered a school-level leader, but it was a marginalized position. Fortunately, he was indifferent to fame and wealth and had no fight with the world, so he ended up in peace. He has two degrees from Jiaotong University and Tsinghua University. He is proficient in arts and sciences, wise and shrewd. I have always respected him very much and admired his integrity, approachability, optimism and prudentness. One dawn, the sky was full of stars. I met him by chance on a long-distance bus. There were no seats in the bus. We stood in the aisle. I felt sorry for him. "You are so old and have such old qualifications. Tell the school, It’s not a problem to use the car once.” He smiled faintly and said, “It’s a private matter for me, I don’t want to bother anyone.” During the chat, I found that we actually had the same views on some things, and we were quite speculative, so I didn’t feel that the road was so bumpy and long. Years have passed, but I still remember that starlit dawn, that long-distance car driving alone, and the scene of two people holding on to the armrest and talking slowly.
I glanced at the concierge inadvertently. Isn't it Teacher Sun Zhibin sitting tremblingly on the stool inside? He is also over eighty years old, has a kind face, but looks a little slow. As soon as he said hello, he stuttered and couldn't speak clearly. After asking, he found out that the old man had a cerebral infarction. I feel sour in my heart. The old man has been kind, diligent and conscientious all his life, and he is also proficient in massage. Back then, I had a sprained neck and the pain was unbearable. Thanks to the old man's several free massages, the pain was quickly relieved. Nowadays, I feel sad when I see the old man suffering from illness and being helpless. I can only silently wish all the elderly people peace and health.
There were children in the yard, but I no longer recognized them. They looked at me curiously, and a Tang poem came to my mind, "Children who don't recognize each other smile and ask where the guest is coming from."
The ignorant teenagers who once knew each other and cheered and jumped have long since grown up, left here, and wandered around the world. Are they wandering in a foreign land, returning to this paradise in their dreams in the middle of the night, looking for the laughter of the past?
For those of you who have lived here for half your life and left in middle age, will you recall this period of youth with a heartstring in the misty and rainy days, in the mist of the tea cup? Occasionally, when you look up the yellowed photos and the scenes of the past, do you feel a deep sigh like me?
Farewell, the hard red bricks under your feet are already stained with green rust, and the weak ones have long been broken into pieces. They have been baptized by decades of wind, frost, rain and snow, and we have been trampled ruthlessly day by day and year by year. . This piece of red brick land has been walked by us, children have run over, old people have fallen over, birds have jumped over, dogs have made noises, and cars have run over it. It has recorded our steps running for life and witnessed our rush. The aging figure is soaked in our sweat and tears. Standing on it now, I still feel like I'm home.
Farewell, the sycamore trees in the yard have already towered into the sky and blocked out the sun. Unfortunately, after people left the building, they were inevitably equipped with axes and axes. In the last days, enjoy the bright sunshine and the warm spring breeze. Thank you very much. For so many years, you have been like old friends, spending half of our lives with us, protecting us from the wind and rain, and holding up giant umbrellas for us under the scorching sun, bringing us a sense of coolness. The little bird on the tree, like a business girl who doesn’t know the hatred of her country’s subjugation, is still jumping and chirping, saying goodbye to the flowers blooming enthusiastically in the flower bed downstairs, red like fire and white like snow, although I don’t know who is doing it for you. It took watering and fertilizing, but I still enjoyed many years of eye happiness.
Farewell, those old neighbors, no matter you were once powerful and arrogant; or you were unknown and ordinary; no matter we were once brothers and friends with similar interests and sincere hearts; or we were brothers and sisters with different ambitions and shapes. Colleagues of passers-by. There is a huge sea of ??people. God has allowed us to meet in this life. It is also a kind of fate. Don't forget that we once drank boiling water from a boiler, and don't forget the old educated youth from Xi'an who burned the boiler and was cheerful and loud all day long.