Note-taking - A Treasure Trove of Composition for Middle School Students

Author: Peng Xianhong / Country: Mainland China
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-06-01
Features: What are these characters, what do they mean? I don’t know, but I just thought the sound was very pleasant, so I happily joined in shouting. My voice was louder than Grandfather’s. Whenever I recited poetry, the entire five rooms in my house could hear it. Grandfather was afraid I’d hurt my throat from shouting, so he often warned me, “You’re lifting the roof off the house.” After laughing at the joke, I smiled for a little while, but soon started shouting again. I did the same at night. My mother scared me, saying she’d hit me if I shouted anymore. Grandfather also said, “There’s no such thing as reciting poetry like this. This isn’t reciting poetry—it’s screaming poetry.”
Besides reciting poetry, I also loved to eat. I remember the family next to the eastern side of the main gate raised pigs. A big pig walked in front, followed by a group of little pigs. One day, a little pig fell into a well. People used a basket to lift it out. By the time it was pulled up, the little pig was already dead. Many people gathered around the well to watch the commotion, including Grandfather and me. As soon as the little pig was lifted out, Grandfather said he wanted it. He took the little pig home, wrapped it in yellow clay, and put it in the stove to roast. Once it was done, he gave it to me to eat. I stood by the stove, and the entire little pig was right in front of me. Grandfather ripped it open, and immediately, grease started dripping. It smelled so delicious. I had never eaten anything so fragrant, never anything so tasty.
The second time, a duck fell into the well, and Grandfather wrapped it in yellow clay and roasted it for me. While Grandfather was roasting it, I helped him mix the clay, shouting and cheering as if I were in a cheering squad for him. The duck was even tastier than the pig. Its meat wasn’t fatty at all.
—Xiao Hong, The Back Garden and My Grandfather, p. 10