Selected Works of Shi Tiesheng

Author: Shi Tiesheng / Country: Mainland China
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-06-01
Features:
Autumn Remembrance
After becoming paralyzed, my temper grew irritable. Watching the northbound (wild geese) in the sky, I would suddenly smash the glass in front of me; listening to Li Guyi's sweet singing, I would violently throw things around the walls. My mother would quietly sneak out, listening to my movements from where I couldn't see her. When everything returned to silence, she would sneak back in, her eyes red, looking at me.
"I heard the flowers in Beihai Park have bloomed. Let me push you there for a walk," she would always say. My mother loved flowers, but ever since my legs were paralyzed, the flowers she tended all died.
"No, I won't go!" I violently pounded my hateful legs, shouting, "What's the point of living!" My mother rushed over and grabbed my hand, suppressing her sobs as she said, "We're together, let's live well, live well." But I never knew then that her illness had reached that stage. Later, my sister told me that she often suffered from severe liver pain, lying awake all night.
That day, I sat alone in the room, watching the leaves outside the window rustle and fall. My mother entered, standing in front of the window: "The chrysanthemums in Beihai Park have bloomed. Let me push you there to see." Her haggard face showed a pleading expression.
"When?" "If you're willing, tomorrow?" she said. My answer made her overjoyed.
"Alright, tomorrow," I said. She grew happy, sitting down and standing up repeatedly: "Then let's get ready quickly."
"Oh, how troublesome? It's just a few steps, what's there to prepare for?" She laughed and sat beside me, chattering: "After seeing the chrysanthemums, we'll go to 'Fangshàn'. You used to love the green peas there when you were little. Remember that time I took you to Beihai Park? You insisted those tree flowers were caterpillars, running and stepping on one after another."
She suddenly stopped talking. She was even more sensitive to words like "run" and "step" than I was. She quietly left again.
After she left, she never came back. When the neighbors lifted her onto the stretcher, she was still coughing up large amounts of blood. I didn't realize she was that ill. Watching the tricycle fade into the distance, I never imagined it would be our final farewell.
When the neighbor's young man carried me to see her, she was struggling to breathe, just like her difficult life had always been. Someone told me that her last words before losing consciousness were: "My sick son and my young daughter."
It was autumn again, and my sister pushed me to Beihai Park to see the chrysanthemums. The yellow flowers were elegant, the white flowers noble, the purple-red flowers passionate and profound, spreading wildly in the autumn wind, blooming brilliantly. I understood that my mother had not said it.