I am not Ximen Qing.

In the summer, when my eldest sister wasn't in school, she would act like a little beauty to get her friends to play with her, passing steamed buns that Mom had made to her little admirers through the window. Thinking about it, having playmates was the most important thing in childhood. Even though we'd outgrown the days of worrying about food and clothing, life was still quite difficult. The forest farm was rich in produce, and the government provided substantial subsidies, making for a relatively comfortable life at the time. My second aunt's family was a large household in the city, but both of their salaries weren't as high as my father's alone, so life was naturally difficult. He often secretly went to help his nephews and nieces. Of course, if Mom found out, they would inevitably have a big argument, which was normal. She cared about her children… naturally, she had to be more… women need to be more frugal, men might be more generous, otherwise, life wouldn't be possible.

With his older sisters already in school, Zhang Sheng spent his days playing with his friends. Eventually, his mother sent him to the kindergarten at the forest farm. Teacher Song was the only teacher there. The kindergarten was publicly run by the forest farm, and the children had to bring their own lunch. Teacher Song taught the children words like a, o, and e, but the children seemed to understand it all, often forgetting not a single word. What they remembered were the games they played in the courtyard, like chasing each other, playing in the mud, and urinating.

Zhang Sheng was so bored. The forest farm was a world of silly dogs, and almost every household kept one or two big yellow guard dogs. Dog bite incidents often occurred, but people usually let it go with a laugh and didn't care too much about the animals' stupid deeds. They were all people from different parts of the country who had come together by chance, and they were all simple, honest, and kind-hearted, without any selfish malice. Few people bothered with trivial matters.

Mr. Rooster was even more mischievous than the dog, having already let visiting relatives and friends experience the power of his iron beak and sharp claws like moths to a flame. Coupled with Ms. Goose's sycophancy and constant barking, Mr. Dog naturally had no chance to enter this family.

But Zhang Sheng didn't like them. He thought they were too heartless and caused trouble for his relatives and friends... Just think about it, Mr. Rooster and Ms. Goose are fierce protectors of their home, who would dare to come?

The pitiful little yellow cat appeared below the window where its sister was distributing steamed buns. Starving and thin, it looked like it had been abandoned. Meowing pitifully at the kind-faced, mischievous boy, Zhang Sheng, it wagged its tail and begged for mercy. The yellow cat had a way of winning hearts; it saw through Zhang Sheng's lonely soul. The two kindred spirits became friends. The mother also hoped for a big yellow cat, but she shook her head at the sight of this little one. However, her son insisted, and she finally agreed to let the blushing little yellow cat become part of the family. Actually, there were often large, shiny black mice in the house, and the mother hated mice. She probably thought the cat might not be able to catch the mice, and the mice might eat it instead. The cat warrior's plight was like a fallen hero, temporarily losing its glory; everyone had underestimated the cat. That very day, Zhang Sheng gave the cat a welcome feast, grooming it and even chewing up some steamed buns in his mouth, afraid the cat would go hungry. That night, the cat shared a bed with him. The cat was afraid of other people, so it burrowed deep into the blankets and slept soundly.

The days spent with the cat were incredibly comforting for Zhang Sheng's childhood! He treated the cat to the best food and drink. It grew increasingly majestic, its fur changing from yellow to golden with nutrition, making it seem like he had a golden cat. Its eyes also revealed a tiger-like ferocity, and it developed a bit of a temper. Scars adorned Zhang Sheng's left and right arms, even his face bore the marks of its claws, but the child didn't care. Playing was inherently risky; when the cat wanted a nap, he would grab it, yell, and sway it from side to side. The cat would conserve its energy, preparing for some big things to do that night. Don't disturb its nap; it's a night owl. To Zhang Sheng's astonishment, this fellow once crawled into his warm bed with a large, shiny rat in its mouth, devouring it with gusto, completely oblivious to his feelings. The cat brought change to the household, eating meat and steamed buns, growing rapidly, and within a few months became a large, golden orange cat. The cat would often come to the door in the middle of the night with a mouse in its mouth, so at Mom's insistence, Dad made a big hole in the door and hung a small curtain over it, turning it into a VIP passage for the big cat. For some reason, the cat insisted on eating the mouse on the kang (a heated brick bed). Because the cat had done a good job, it was given the right to eat however it wanted and wherever it wanted.

Since receiving warmth and love, Zhang Sheng's cat has undergone the most significant change: its once-confused eyes now possess the majestic air of a tiger. Crucially, the cat's white whiskers are incredibly masculine, making it seem like a male. All felines, male and female, have beautiful whiskers, but why are cat whiskers white? I wonder what color a black cat's whiskers are, or what color a tiger's whiskers are. I wish my cat could grow to the size of a Siberian tiger! I've never seen a tiger in the forest, though there are plenty of bears and roe deer. As a five or six-year-old child, I haven't thought about this question, and I've certainly never heard a tiger roar. Tigers, the kings of the forest, are very sensitive, somewhat like reclusive monks, especially to smells. Part of the forest in the front mountains has been converted into farmland for workers to improve their lives; the soil is a dark, shiny black, requiring no fertilizer for anything planted there. Can you imagine what this place was like before? Humans have a habit of attesting to the history of human conquest of nature. Where there are rivers, there is civilization; the Tigris, Euphrates, Yellow River, and Yangtze River are prime examples. Stories of the past and present unfold along the banks of great rivers—wars and prosperity—and cities are born wherever great floods reach. London couldn't do without the Thames, Egypt without the Nile, Rome without the Dnieper, and so on. The Danube in Europe, the Rhine in Germany, the Don in Russia, the Ganges in India, the Missouri in America, and the Amazon in South America—these vary in size. Forests without rivers are like giants without poetic romance. In this picturesque and vibrant world, at the semi-circular edge of a basin, at the base of towering cliffs, flows a clear, rushing river. No matter how heavy the rain, perhaps undisturbed by the river god's undisturbed existence, its waters remain perpetually clear like spring water. All the streams flowing down from the mountains converge into this great river. Of course, there are also manifestations of power.

The concrete railway bridge leading out of the mountains, with its reinforced concrete piers, often sees the water rushing and raging fiercely during the highest tides, nearly submerging the piers. The piers themselves create terrifying whirlpools, the kind of awe-inspiring whirlpools children have all witnessed. Floating logs and debris are swallowed by these whirlpools like the maw of a monster, instantly vanishing everything. It's like a monster manifesting itself, somewhat reminiscent of the terrifying myths created by the sorcerer that Gongsun Bao faced during the Warring States period. Elementary school students will find this story sparking endless associations. The ancients revered heaven and earth and feared spirits and deities. As humanity conquered nature and gained power, they lost all reverence, believing they could rely solely on their hands and clever minds. In ancient times, it's understandable that humans consulted oracles before hunting or fishing. In those days, human power was limited; sudden weather changes meant death, threatening life, yet they were powerless to change it. Therefore, they were extremely sensitive to changes in the weather, the sun and moon, and the stars, observing celestial phenomena. When did people become bolder? Perhaps it was during the transition from Stone Age to Bronze Age to Iron Age. With weapons in hand, facing ferocious beasts, human strength gradually gained the upper hand. Slowly, the beasts realized their wisdom was far too insignificant compared to humans, and escape became the best option. The great whirlpool was dark and terrifying, its current swift. On rainy summer days, even staying in a brick house at night, one could hear the river's roaring song. Children, because of the echoes created by the rushing water in the basin, would hear this sound. The rain poured down, and the incandescent bulbs inside the house emitted a golden yellow light, transforming the room into a warm atmosphere. In this tenderness, some younger children, prone to crying, would be held by their mothers like lullabies, their hands gently patting their frightened hearts. In my family, there was a folk song called "The Night Wolf Cries," an ancient folk song that would stop the children from crying whenever it was sung. Like a spell, it had such a powerful effect on a child's heart. Outside, there would be flood control teams organized by the forestry bureau, consisting of militiamen and workers from the labor teams, all wearing large black raincoats and standing on the riverbank to observe the rising water levels. In the rain, the riverbank would appear as a series of lighthouses made of flashlights; each person was a lighthouse. This river wasn't an ocean, and there were no hidden reefs here—were the riverbanks reefs? There was one phenomenon that had never occurred before: the flooding of Jinshan Temple by Fahai, the well-known story of the White Snake, Green Snake, Xu Xian, and Fahai. Mudslides—people might not have this concept in their minds. Although the front mountain had become forestless farmland, the surrounding open areas and the river-side slopes were covered with strong, healthy pine trees, and even birch trees were scarce. With the protection of these tree spirits, the strong winds and waves couldn't cause any damage. The water rose rapidly, but the workers patrolling the riverbank weren't worried at all about the floodwaters washing away the Dragon King Temple. This had become a permanent, fixed habit; it was absolutely impossible. I don't know about other parts of the world, but in this remote area, it was absolutely impossible. Watching the surging river in the pouring rain and the vast darkness of night offers a unique and breathtaking experience. The power of water has a powerful, infectious quality, inspiring passion and a sense of responsibility in every lighthouse. Protecting the safety of this home—my wife and children are sleeping soundly on the warm kang (heated brick bed). The coolness of the rainy night has completely banished the mosquitoes; there's no need to chase them away anymore. Without their bites, the night wolf can dream sweet dreams in the latter half of the night, in boundless peace and tranquility.

Zhang Sheng happily cuddled the cat. The cat, quite perceptive, didn't venture out in the rainy night to prove it wasn't a freeloader, and contentedly slept soundly with its young master. Zhang Sheng hadn't cared about the cat's gender, but he always felt it was a mischievous big male cat. Now it was quite fat and strong, yet its belly didn't seem to be growing. These kinds of cats usually grow quite large, and the cat was definitely heading in that direction. Zhang Sheng's best friend wasn't a playmate, but this big, fat cat.

With Mr. Fat Cat around, Zhang Sheng felt like he had become a cat himself. Everything about cats was good, even the most outrageous Mr. Cat had a large, shiny black rat in his mouth. How many soybeans and rice had that rat eaten? Zhang Sheng had truly seen something new. Mr. Cat really didn't care about the occasion when he ate; he swallowed food whole, a feline specialty. He had never seen anyone eat fish without picking out the bones, but this fat cat was a bit like Mr. Snake. The entire rat was cleaned up, not a single hair or bone was left. What was even more amazing was that Mr. Cat left it in the bed as if there were no clues to his crime. Even Sherlock Holmes would be dumbfounded. It was more magical than Hamlet's lament about life. He no longer had to worry about the terrifying scene of a rat climbing onto the bed in the middle of the night. Zhang Sheng was used to it and didn't find it strange. Anyway, the cat wouldn't cause him any trouble. After the cat had just eaten a mouse, Zhang Sheng would even kiss it. He was much more sensible. The only thing he didn't dare to do was touch Mr. Cat's whiskers, otherwise he would have another scar on his face. Zhang Sheng was a little angry about this. If you're so capable, then don't catch people!

Mr. Cat was careful with his scratches; the scars would disappear completely in less than a week, unlike the careless scratches left by other silly boys his age. Zhang Sheng thought to himself, how he wished the cat could grow into a fierce tiger! Then he could ride on its back like the monkeys and show off everywhere that he owned a tiger, not a cat. Having such a playmate would be so much fun!

He would always save some food for Mr. Cat, their relationship was truly like brothers. The pampered cat would never let strangers touch it. His mother often said cats were treacherous, choosing whichever house had the best food, while dogs were loyal, sharing both joy and sorrow with their owners. She even said that if the neighbor's cat ran away, the dog wouldn't leave even when starving. Zhang Sheng didn't understand what this meant. He only understood one thing: play with the cat well, feed Mr. Cat good food, and besides, this cat was really good at catching mice. The house was free of rats. Before, the grain in the barn was stolen by rats, and the burlap sacks were riddled with holes, requiring replacement sacks. But while there was plenty of elm bark, burlap sacks required a lot of bark, which was wasteful. Mr. Cat made a significant contribution to the economy; for a while, they didn't have to worry about the holes in the burlap sacks.

My eldest and second eldest sisters were both in elementary school. My eldest sister was a decent student, but my second sister was very bright and quite famous in school, always coming home with perfect scores. Inheriting the family tradition, she didn't actually study very hard, often ranking first or second in her class, alternating with another girl. The two girls were also best friends. My mother was especially proud of her. My eldest sister was quiet and naturally beautiful, while my second sister had a tomboyish personality, always competing with others, even arguing with women. The neighbors said she was like a little firecracker, a strong-willed girl, and that she resembled her mother, while my eldest sister's personality was like my father's. My father doted on my eldest sister from a young age, treating her like a precious treasure, because she was his first daughter. Although the social climate was still patriarchal at the time, women's status wasn't like in the old days when men had the final say; many men were now afraid of their wives.

Zhang Sheng was born long before his maternal grandmother passed away. He could only see her in a family photo. She was holding his older sister, and all the other aunts and uncles were standing behind her. He felt jealous; why wasn't any of them holding him in a picture? He envied his grandparents, his maternal grandparents, and his maternal grandparents. He longed for a photo like his older sister's. He thought he would never go to school, spending his days running around, living a happy and mischievous life. School was terrifying, and studying was even more terrifying.