The slightly hunched figure looked a little shaky under the weak orange light. The tricycles swaying here and there show off their "melody" from time to time, which adds a bit of vitality to this remote alley, and also reveals a bit of sadness...
Lao Wang, the "Cultural Revolution" period coachman. His face is ashen, plus he has a "snail eye" (blind), and his body looks like a skeleton with a layer of dry, yellow skin stretched over it. This is his unique appearance. And a dilapidated tricycle is all his belongings. Waking up early and working late at night, surviving day after day, year after year, on a tricycle was his cyclical schedule... Perhaps Lao Wang was just a typical microcosm of the working class workers at that time.
In the summer, Lao Wang made a living by delivering ice to others. Every morning, Lao Wang would carry the ice and deliver it to each owner's home. Although, his steps were so difficult and faltering; even though his "social status" at that time had already risen, he could have severely "blackmailed" his owner; even though...he did not suffer because of all these. Sometimes, the ice he sent was twice as big as others, but the price was the same. Maybe he hasn't seen through the coldness of the world yet!
Soon after, all three-wheelers carrying passengers were banned. Lao Wang had no choice but to change his three-wheeler into a flatbed three-wheeler for transporting goods. But how can "vulnerable groups" like Lao Wang have the strength to transport any goods? Fortunately, there is always a way out. An old gentleman is willing to downgrade himself to "cargo" and let Lao Wang transport it. In this way, Lao Wang's life had only a small amount of pitiful financial income. Lao Wang also happily installed a half-inch-high edge on the three-wheeled tablet. Perhaps, this way the passengers would not fall. Perhaps, this way, Lao Wang would feel more at ease when he started driving.
…Flowers bloom and fade, winter passes and spring comes. Lao Wang collapsed at lightning speed and fell into the collapsed hut in the dilapidated compound. The cold body was so pale that there was no blood at all. But his expression was so peaceful, so peaceful that there seemed to be no regrets, no attachment...
The song ended, and Lao Wang's life came to a perfect ending. Is this considered perfect? No one can answer for sure. But people may still vaguely remember that many years later, in that era, in a certain alley in the capital, there was a tricycle that could play a "melody" that accompanied such people on such a lonely and long road.