May 1st#
I don't know if it's because of the increased humidity from the continuous rain, combined with the chili peppers I've eaten for several days causing heat in my body. My wisdom teeth, which have already started to emerge, are beginning to swell and hurt again. "Toothache is not a disease, but it can kill you," is truly no joke; it feels like my brain is throbbing with pain. The metronidazole at home is finished, so I hurried to the pharmacy to buy some more medicine while it wasn't raining in the afternoon.
Next to the pharmacy, there used to be a family running a spicy hot pot business, but now they have started making fried dough cakes. I had eaten there once a few months ago, and the taste was quite good. Today, after leaving the pharmacy, I saw that their stove was already lit, so I simply bought two cakes for dinner.
Watching the dough filled with stuffing being rolled into a thin flat shape on the counter, then placed into a shallow oil pot to fry until golden and crispy, really whets the appetite. Of course, this kind of food should be eaten sparingly; it's fine to indulge occasionally.
There are two places that I can't forget for their fried dough cakes: one is in the Songcheng scenic area in Hangzhou, and the other is from a street in Chengdu last year. When I first visited Songcheng as a child, I was starving and ate the fried dough cake known as "Wu Dalang's stuffed cake," which I found very delicious. Later, I recommended it to friends when I accompanied them, but I don't know if it's still available or if it still tastes good. The fried dough cake from the street in Chengdu was seen during a leisurely stroll last year, where a young couple was making the cakes, with the girl responsible for making them and the boy for frying and bagging. At that time, Zeze remarked that if we had such skills, we could also set up a stall.
A Cheng wrote in “Homesickness and Protease”:
Before a person matures, there are many possibilities for the composition of proteases. As the types of food entering the small intestine vary, the types and structures of proteases gradually form and become fixed... Therefore, the elders' advice of "don't be picky" will affect a child's future. The reasoning is that you should eat as many different kinds of food as early as possible, so that the formation of your proteases can be as complete as possible. Thus, you can travel the world without fear, eat anything, digest anything, and that is half of a happy life. So-called homesickness, I observed, is basically due to eating foreign food that is hard to digest, which leads to emotional distress.
This has scientific basis and aligns with my observations. Let's consider it a "truth."
The origin of my love for fried dough cakes comes from my grandparents making them for me when I was young. I was very picky about food as a child; I wouldn't eat hot food, cold food, salty food, or bland food... I could list many things I wouldn't eat. During holidays, my grandparents would make my favorite sweet and sour ribs and fried dough cakes. My family would tease me, "I've never seen a child eat sweet and sour ribs with cakes."
To correct my bad habits, my father would send me to stay with relatives in the mountains every summer. At that time, there were no roads in the mountains, only a narrow path made by people walking. Lu Xun's saying, "There were originally no roads in the world; when many people walk, a road is formed," was quite realistic. It took about an hour to walk from the drop-off point to where we stayed. The first time I went, everything felt new. There was a section of the road paved with coal cinders that I didn't recognize, and I seriously asked my father why they didn't sweep the road since it was so dark.
In the late 1990s, the mountains were still very poor. We stayed in a mud-brick house and ate vegetables grown by ourselves. My uncle originally wanted to kill a chicken to treat us, but my father wouldn't allow it. My cousin was worried I would have too plain a diet, so he went to the river to catch a fish. Even though I hadn't started elementary school at that time, I knew they were trying hard to make sure I ate well. During meals, I didn't show much pickiness; instead, I pretended to eat happily.
At that time, there were no computers or mobile phones. In the evening, my cousin set up a large bed in front of the house in the rice field, and we lay there watching the stars and listening to stories. My father and uncle took a plastic bottle, drilled small holes in it, and went to the valley to catch a bottle of fireflies.
Later, every summer vacation, I would stay in the mountains for a month until the fifth grade of elementary school. Not only did I overcome my picky eating habits, but I also learned some farming skills. I remember carrying two baskets of vegetables back from the garden, swaying unsteadily yet stubbornly refusing their help, my shoulders rubbed raw; drawing water from the well to water the vegetables; going with my cousin to the woods to pick mushrooms and wood ear mushrooms, while also collecting a lot of firewood; chopping wood, sawing, learning to start a fire; carrying a hoe to till the land...
Those days were truly wonderful!
May 2nd#
This morning, I saw in the news that the number of victims in the Mei Da Expressway accident has risen to 36. Sigh, who would have thought such a tragic event would occur.
I've heard several friends from Guangdong say, "Did we offend the Dragon King this year?" Some are worried that if this continues, combined with the dragon boat rain, the disaster will become even more severe.
At the beginning of April, the flight I booked from Guangzhou to Beijing was canceled three times due to severe convective weather. When returning to Guangzhou at the end of the month, Zeze glanced at the weather forecast and suggested buying a sleeper ticket. I originally thought I could just sleep and arrive, but unexpectedly, shortly after leaving Hengyang Station the next morning, we stopped. We waited until noon, only to be informed that the railway ahead had been washed away by floods and we could only return to Hengyang Station. Although the station promised free high-speed rail transfer to Guangzhou, I didn't know how long I would have to wait, so I simply refunded my ticket and rented a car to drive home.
The journey took more than five hours, with about four of those hours in the rain. The rain in Hunan was relatively light, but once we entered Guangdong, it was pouring. Passing through Qingyuan, the rain was like a waterfall pouring down. Zeze looked at many villages below the highway submerged in floodwaters and anxiously said, "It's only spring plowing, and there's already a disaster." Although the highway surface wasn't flooded, there was quite a bit of standing water, and the tires were slipping a bit. I had to slow down, driving in one lane, too afraid to go too fast or change lanes carelessly.
Not long after entering Guangzhou, my father called to ask where we were. Hearing the rain pounding on the windshield, he was quite nervous. How could I not be nervous? It was already night, and the rain was so heavy; driving on the highway was inherently unsafe.
I must say, please don't take risks like I did. When encountering heavy rain on the highway, quickly turn on the front and rear fog lights and drive into a rest area; do not continue driving, as it can be very dangerous.
Just after four in the afternoon, I saw on Caixin that the number of victims in the Mei Da Expressway accident had risen to 48. In the news article, there was a sentence: "The dirt on the road is mixed with burnt car wreckage, and the smell of charred remains can still be detected." Reading this made my heart ache, and I couldn't imagine what the scene was like when the accident occurred.
Perhaps it was the flames ignited in the collapsed pit that alerted the vehicles behind, preventing a larger scale of casualties. And the fuel for that fire, besides the vehicles, were also bodies.
Namo Amitabha.
I saw media reports about a brave person who, after the accident, immediately stopped vehicles coming from behind, and it wasn't until he knelt down that a driver finally stopped. Since the media reported it this way, I believe this touching incident exists. However, based on my own experience, I still feel that the reporters exaggerating the "kneeling" aspect feels a bit forced.
On a rainy night, on a highway without streetlights, vehicles were still speeding. A person waved to the cars behind but was ignored. So he chose to kneel down. Kneeling down makes it even harder to be seen, right? If the car behind is using high beams, it might be okay, but if it's only using low beams, by the time the driver sees it and reacts, it might be too late. The reporters, in order to highlight the heroic act of saving lives, chose the "kneeling" moment as an emotional point, which instead casts a veil of fiction over the entire incident.
May 3rd#
I don't have much to write about today. I had a dream during my nap and woke up with a poem:
In the middle of spring in Jiangnan, it cannot be found, a lonely quilt in the wind and rain at the ends of the earth.
Listening to the stillness in the shadow of the dim lamp, by the sound of the quiet pillow, I have not yet sunk into sleep.
A thousand deaths cannot erase the clumsiness of life, a hundred worries all lessen the heart of an old friend.
Tomorrow morning, I feel at peace, still lingering and gazing at the azure shadows.
May 4th#
Today is Youth Day, and I just finished reading the book "Masters and Giants." Among them, the chapter describing the commander of the May Fourth Movement, Fu Sinian, gave me a different perspective.
During the Anti-Japanese War in Kunming, Chen Yinke lived on the third floor, and Fu Sinian lived on the first floor. Every time the air raid sirens sounded, everyone would run to the bomb shelter downstairs. But Fu Sinian would go against the current, up to the third floor to help the visually impaired Chen Yinke down, and then they would hide together in the bomb shelter.
Fu Sinian was a big man, and although he was a few years younger than Chen Yinke, his health wasn't that great either. In critical moments, he could still run to the third floor each time to help Mr. Chen down to the bomb shelter; this kind of bodhisattva-like behavior is not something just anyone can do. Once or twice is possible, but to do it every time is quite difficult.
Previously, when reading "Southward and Northward," I didn't have a good impression of Fu Sinian and skipped many paragraphs about him. Perhaps I was too biased and didn't follow a principle I set for myself—
When encountering complex historical figures, one should first restore them to a biological sense of a person (a human individual), and then add labels such as gender, nationality, and educational background. Only then can one see some "truths" that are obscured.
This principle was something I established for myself in college, prompted by reading two books by Professor Gao Hua and listening to his lecture on YouTube, which greatly inspired me and left me with some notes.
Observing complex historical figures can easily lead to preconceived notions. So simply strip away all the labels from this person and observe their behavior, motives, and living conditions within the specific historical and cultural context they existed in. Mao...
Consider their biological characteristics, psychological state, and the social and economic conditions they were in; it seems their choices and behaviors are not so difficult to understand. Of course, I still cannot accept it. Although history cannot be assumed...
History is written by the victors, and it may be endowed with certain inappropriate traits or motives by adding labels of race, gender, or social status to someone. For example, after the founding of the country...
May 5th#
Yesterday, due to bad weather, Zeze's sister occupied my desk again, so I could only lie in bed watching dramas. Recently, there hasn't been anything that suits my taste, and I quickly switched from watching dramas to watching videos about card cheating on Bilibili. The clever techniques are really hard to detect, and the shuffling methods are so beautiful.
I don't know if there are card cheats in casinos abroad; I haven't heard of any. The dealer can show that there are no hidden cards in his hands or sleeves every time he deals.
When I downloaded BlackJack on my iPad, I was surprised to find that Apple had actually made a single-player Texas Hold'em game, so I had to support it. Thus, I spent yesterday and this morning playing cards.
Actually, I still haven't memorized the suits in Texas Hold'em, like what a straight or a full house is; just hearing about it makes my head hurt. Anyway, it's a computer game, so I could just jump in and play, and gradually I figured out three points:
First, don't rush; if the cards are bad, throw them away and quietly wait for an opportunity.
Second, cut losses in time. Sometimes you bet, but clearly the opponents are more confident, so don't follow anymore.
Third, when it's time to act, don't hesitate.
I need to clarify that I strongly oppose gambling. Just like those videos about card cheating say, "Not gambling is winning."
By the way, I want to specifically mention something. Recently, a twenty-something boy in Chongqing committed suicide, and this incident has been trending on social media. Some people are pointing fingers and commenting on the deceased. The person is already dead; regardless of the reason for the suicide, can't we show some respect for the deceased? They made such a choice; you may not agree, but please don't analyze or even slander the deceased in a victorious tone. Have some humanity; don't display your inherent baseness so vividly.
That's all for the May Day essays.