Colorful years

Just as Congcong stood in the middle of the courtyard, gazing intently at the pure white snowflakes dancing in the sky, his aunt had already quietly come out of the house. She was carrying a heavy bag, which, upon closer inspection, turned out to be a bag of white rice.

With a smile on her face, the aunt slowly walked up to Zhang Zhong and gently placed the bag of rice on the stone table next to him.

She said gently, "Brother Zhong, actually, I know perfectly well that you and your son came here for the New Year's rice. I specially prepared twenty catties of rice this morning! Although it's not a lot, it's enough for your family to eat for several meals, and it should help you get through the New Year smoothly."

As you know, our food rations are now distributed according to quotas. If I wanted to give you more, I simply couldn't. So please don't think it's too little." My aunt's words were sincere and earnest, warming my heart.

Hearing his aunt's thoughtful words, Zhang Zhong was deeply moved. He quickly looked up at her, his eyes slightly red, and replied in a slightly choked voice:

"Little Yun, I really don't know how to thank you enough! No amount of words can express my gratitude right now. In short, I will always remember your kindness and will definitely repay you in the future if I have the chance!"

The kind and understanding woman in front of me had already offered me a whole twenty pounds of precious rice before I even asked for help.

It's truly unforgettable.

You have to understand that in these difficult times, every grain of rice is extremely precious. It's like they're squeezing every last bit of food out of their own pockets!

As he thought about it, Zhang Zhong's eyes welled up with tears, which seemed about to spill over at any moment.

Seeing this, his aunt quickly comforted him in a soft voice, "Oh, Zhong-ge, don't be so formal! It's only natural for neighbors to help each other out."

"Oh, right, I have a small basket here, which is perfect for carrying all this rice. It'll make walking much easier." With that, the aunt turned and went into the house, quickly returning with a small, exquisite basket and handing it to Zhang Zhong.

"Congcong, come here and thank your auntie. We should go home now." Zhang Zhong stood at the gate of the courtyard and shouted loudly to his son, who was playing with his friends not far away.

Upon hearing his father's call, Congcong rushed over like a joyful little deer, his face beaming with an innocent smile.

He ran up to his aunt, stopped, bowed deeply, and said in a childish voice, "Auntie, thank you!"

Looking at the well-behaved and sensible child in front of her, the aunt was overjoyed. She gently patted Congcong's head and said with a smile, "You're welcome. Congcong is such a polite and good child! Come to Auntie's house to play again next time."

After saying goodbye to his aunt's family, the father and son turned and embarked on their journey home.

Just then, the sun rose, and the snow seemed to stop and retreat to the heavens, never falling again.

The father carried a basket on his back, filled with warmth and love. The snow under his feet crunched underfoot, as if playing a unique melody for them.

They came by the usual road, but Zhang Zhong thought: since the return journey would involve crossing mountains and valleys anyway, and the distance would be about the same, it would be better to take a new road that no one has ever taken before, so that Congcong could broaden his horizons.

Thinking of this, he took Congcong's little hand and changed the original route. After leaving the city, they went through Shadi Commune and headed towards Qimaling.

Along the way, the father and son sometimes climbed mountain peaks and sometimes traversed dense forests. Congcong stared wide-eyed, curiously observing everything around him, and occasionally asking his father all sorts of interesting questions.

Zhang Zhongze patiently answered his son's questions, telling him stories and legends about this land.

After a difficult trek, they finally reached the Zhangjiajie State-owned Forest Farm. The forest was lush and green, and the air was exceptionally fresh.

After a short rest, the father and son continued their journey, crossing the Pipa Pass and then slowly descending the Huanshan Slope.

As darkness fell, the father and son quickened their pace. Finally, before nightfall, they spotted a familiar village in the distance—Diaolan Village.

The moment I stepped into my home, a warm and welcoming atmosphere greeted me.

It was a sunny day when I left, and a snowy day when I returned. Logically, the journey should have been more arduous than the journey there. But because I had gained something, I was in a great mood, and didn't feel it was particularly hard.

Zhang Zhong placed the heavy 20-pound bag of rice on the table, and the whole family was overjoyed.

Originally, the family reunion dinner only consisted of radishes, but now, thanks to the return of the father and son, they can eat rice, which is indeed something to be happy about.