Torch 2004 -- Escape

Author: Ye Ming, Li Xiaoxiao, Cao Ye
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2005-03-01
Features: The first successful product in China for a virtual "literary summer camp," the bold attempt to intervene in adolescents' lives through media hotlines, the first youth team writing collaboration, and the profound meaning of igniting teenagers' confusion with a "torch."
Walked Through Spring – To My Peers, I Love the Season of Blooming Flowers, I Love Opening a Book Under the Gentle Gaze of the Sun. Then, the Wind Always Whispers Past My Fingers, Flying Deep into the Woods. This Season Belongs to Wild Grass and Cuckoos, They Sing Green Songs at Dawn, Awakening Us, Awakening the Wings That Have Been Asleep Along the Way. I bury My Hands in the Wind and Sing Gently. On the Road of Coming and Going, Between Mountains and Waters. Others Call My Mother "Mom," But I Call Her "Mei Niang." Because My Mother's Name Contains "Mei," Because My Mother Is as Beautiful as the Famous "Mei Niang," Because My Mother, Like Mei Niang and Plum Blossoms, Possesses the Spirit of "Defying the Snow."
From Elementary to High School, I Have Seen Countless Essays Titled "My Mother." From Elementary to High School, I Have Also Seen Countless Essays Titled "My Mother" in My Own Composition Books. From Elementary to High School, I Thought My Most Brilliant Opening Was: "Mother" Is Such a Sacred Word! In Fact, Every Mother Is Quite Real. Like My Mei Niang at Home, She Appears as a Chatterbox Like Tang Sanzang After Being Reflected in a Magic Mirror. A Novel Writes: "My Mother Always Gives Me the Most Nutritious Fish to Eat, While She Only Tricks Me by Saying, 'I Prefer Fish Heads.'" Every Time I Read It, I Think This Person Is (super uncool) but Acts (super cool). Little dude never "studied hard every day" since childhood. Even My Five-Year-Old Brother, Who Still Chewed His Fingers, Knew This Common Sense. The Only Nutritious Part of a Fish, Which Is No Bigger Than a Palm, Is the Little Bit of Fish Juice in Its Brain. Otherwise, Why Would the Family Always Improve Their Diet? My "Tang Sanzang" Mother's Most Active Activity Is Piling Fish Heads onto My Plate. Hey, Thinking This Way, the Respect I Had for the Word "Mother" Instantly "popped" and Disappeared into Thin Air. What a Waste! I Say My Mei Niang Isn't That Sacred: She Would Come When I Was Left with Only a Piece of Braised Pork; She Would Argue With Me When I Took Her Favorite Blanket; She Would Get Angry With Me When I Blocked the Fan with My Huge Body; She Would Get Mad at Me When I Stole Her Diary; She Would Spank Me When I Disturbed Her Singing; She Would Even Pout at Me. When She Didn't Have Enough Money for a Bus Ride, Mei Niang Was a Remarkable Woman, Others Always Said. Though Not as Famous as Margaret Thatcher, In This Mountain Town, Only One-Third of the People Don't Know Her; And Those People Are Limited to Little Sprouts from Elementary School or Below. This Means Every Time I Go Home With Her, As Soon as I Step into the Community Entrance, It Feels Like Walking on a Red Carpet, with People Rushing to Grasp Her Delicate Hands with Smiling Faces, Like They've Hit the Lottery. The Way We Walk from Dawn to Dusk Still Couldn't Get Us Near the Nearby House. My Mei Niang, Like the Mei Niang in the Story, Was Also a Writing Maniac. But She Was a unpublished One. She Had Three Very, Very Old Diaries, Old as Me (It Seems Not That Old Either). Legend Has It That She Dedicated Herself to Recording Her Work, Her Life, and Everything Else in That Book Every Day.