Chapter 57 twenty one

I quietly lowered the mosquito net for Mr. Fu. He was lying on his side facing inward, his hunchback bent into an S shape on the bed.I turned off the light, closed the door gently, and went back to the living room. On the altar table against the wall in the living room, there was still a strong scent of sandalwood in the incense burner. I went to pour a glass of water to pour the embers in the incense burner. off.I looked up and saw the photos of Mr. Fu and A Wei and his father in military uniforms hanging side by side on the wall. I suddenly remembered that on the 18th birthday of Mr. Fu on the ninth day of the lunar calendar, he went out early in the morning and bought a large bouquet of white chrysanthemums when he came back. , personally inserted it into the azure porcelain vase on the altar table, and took out the tripod bronze incense burner from the glass cabinet, offered it to the altar table, and lit sandalwood.I saw him sitting silently in the living room with a solemn expression, and I didn't dare to disturb him.I didn't expect Mr. Fu's birthday to be the anniversary of the death of his son A Wei. No wonder the master led us to celebrate his birthday that night. Mr. Fu was so worried that he got drunk after drinking two glasses of wine.Ah Wei chose his father's birthday to kill himself. Could it be that he also resented his father so deeply?I carefully looked at the photo of Ah Wei, that square face, high cheekbones, thin lips firmly closed, a pair of naked eyes revealing extremely conceited and haughty, that body The straight military uniform, with a straight military cap on his forehead, is indeed the image of a standard soldier, and he looks so similar to Mr. Fu when he was young.

When I lay down on the bed, I thought of my father again.I remembered how serious and cautious he was when he pinned his Boding Medal to my lapel. At that time, he probably thought that I looked like him, and mistakenly pinned all his hopes on me. on the body.However, if I hadn't been expelled from school and had successfully entered the Army Academy, I believe I could have become an excellent officer and made my father proud.When I was in school, the military training department.I scored very high, and my basic movements were the most standard. The instructor often asked me to go out to the team to demonstrate in the class.I also used to be proud of it, thinking that I was worthy of being a soldier's child.And I also like to play with guns. Every time I go to the field to practice shooting, I always feel elated. I like to listen to the whistling of bullets passing through the air.At home, on several occasions, I took out the self-defense pistol my father hid under the mattress that he wore when he was the regiment commander on the mainland, and secretly played with it.My father didn't clean the gun often, and yellow rust had already formed in the barrel.With a pistol in my waist, I walked around with my head held high, feeling very heroic and majestic.When my father drove me out of the house that day, he was waving an empty gun in his hand. In fact, my father was a demobilized soldier, so he couldn't get bullets at all. Maybe my father thought that he could suppress people with a gun in his hand.That time when my mother ran away, my father chased her out with his empty, rusty gun.

No, I think I know the depth of my father's suffering. Especially in the past few months since I left home, I feel more and more that my father's pain is as heavy as a mountain, and it is constantly pressing on my heart.It may be his unbearable pain that I want to avoid.That time when I escorted my mother's ashes home, standing in our dark, damp living room with a quietly musty smell, I saw the empty bamboo armchair where my father sat on it, and I suddenly felt suffocated. Oppressed, and the idea of ​​​​fleeing arises for a while.I want to avoid my father, because I dare not look at his painful, gray and old face.

I heard the old man next door coughing, and I couldn't help wondering if my father was asleep at this moment, and whether he was still in his room, walking up and down alone.