My father, Wu Shangsheng

My father, Wu Shangsheng, was born on December 31, 1975, in a small village in the countryside of DongXihu District, Wuhan City. His family has been farmers for generations. Like other farmers, life is very hard.

With a younger sister to support, in addition to going to school, Wu Shangsheng also helped the family with work. The warm sun was high in the sky, casting brilliant sunshine over the fields. Just a weed high, he swung the hoe again and again hit the grass, a hard drag, and then with the hand uprooted, raised dust, full of his young face. His thin body tirelessly shuttles back and forth in the vast fields, and he unconsciously carries a family, he never calls tired, because he knows that if he is not tired, tired is the family behind him.

In the quiet, infiltration into the land is not only his sweat, and his most simple soul, his life is also in the work, and this piece of his deepest love of the land intertwined.

The sunset in the horizon dyed red patches of clouds, blooming in the distant mountains, the orange-red light scattered on the earth, in this simple field, always accompanied by his attachment.

"Mom, I'm leaving, Dad, you're not too tired." At the age of sixteen, he stood on the truck and bid farewell to the land where he had worked and lived for more than ten years.

Young he joined the army, studied in Shijiazhuang police School, after two years of study, the young man came to Tianjin Armed police Corps.

"It's a lie to say I don't want to be home, but the army has iron discipline." My father's dark brown eyes lit up as he remembered his time in the army.

"Five kilometers cross-country, obstacle climbing, shooting I am excellent," the father took his military photos, gently wipe off the dust above, "that is not to be assessed, just catch up with the New Year, everyone wants to go home as soon as possible, I practice three laps every night, Tianjin north wind ah, really whirring in the face with a knife stab!" He beat all his opponents with diligence and won the first place in the assessment.

When he returned home happily with his bright military uniform, the biggest regret of his life fell. The sunset is still hanging high in the sky, warm, he slowly took off his coat - a familiar and strange fragrance slowly wafted, is the fragrance of the field, is the smoke curl, is the familiar hometown taste. His mother sat in the doorway, watching him from afar as he got off the bus, then slowly walked up to him, put down her army-green backpack, and said in the Chinese dialect of Tianjin, "Mom, I'm back." He looked at the familiar hall and asked with a smile, "Mom, dad?" "He... Gone." He was still wondering, but a glance at the figure hanging on the wall, heart wrenched, can not believe. "Why didn't I know?" He asked softly, holding back his tears. "You are in Tianjin, too far away, afraid to disturb you." Mother had silently wiped tears from the corners of her eyes.

"My biggest regret is that I didn't see him for the last time. I could have settled down in Tianjin, but that's why I came back to Wuhan." I quietly asked him, he did not have a better life in Tianjin, he smiled: "You do not understand, the moon elsewhere is round, it is not as good as at home, I can not leave this land." He and his hometown are like a kite and a child, the kite is always pulled by the kite line, no matter how far it flies, as long as the line is still there, it will always pull back.

Instead of leaving the army, he studied communication technology. A person in the empty communication room to beat the radio, "drip" code sounds like a beautiful movement, time let his fingers covered with calluses, every trace is the radio worn holes, but never complain. "Or do not do, do the best, every soldier will think so, what the country needs me, I will obey and do it." He said these words flatly, and then slowly looked into the distant red sunset.

His life began in the sun, will also bloom in the sun, he wrote a story of a poor peasant family with simplicity and hard work, he deeply loved this land, this country, and youth to dedicate.

In the warm sunset, he bathed in the familiar sunshine, stretched out his hand that had planted, carried a gun, and sent a telegram, stroked my head, and passed on that diligence and strength.