Colorful years

Slowly recovering from the long history of her grandfather's tailor shop, Congcong's thoughts seemed to still be immersed in the past.

However, at that very moment, his grandmother's bound feet suddenly appeared in his mind.

Congcong couldn't help but imagine the scene of her grandmother taking delicate, light steps as she moved gracefully back and forth in the small tailor shop.

Those tiny, delicate bound feet moved with a light, rhythmic tread, as if stepping on cotton. Grandma, dressed in traditional Chinese clothing, looked like a fairy descending to earth, her garments fluttering in the breeze.

She might gently walk to her grandfather's side, smiling as she offers him a cup of hot tea; or she might carefully arrange the fabrics and needles, placing them neatly in their places.

When sunlight streamed through the window and fell on the floor, Grandma's shadow was elongated, casting a beautiful and heartwarming picture.

Congcong became increasingly engrossed in his thoughts, as if he could witness every detail of that era firsthand. He could even smell the faint aroma of tea and fabric in the air, and hear the sounds of his grandfather cutting fabric and his grandmother softly humming a tune intertwined...

In reality, the feet that Congcong saw on his grandmother's feet were very small and had a very peculiar shape.

The foot was no longer in a normal, extended position, but twisted, with the toes tightly curled together, as if being squeezed by an invisible force.

The heel also appeared unusually short, making the entire foot look like a deformed little cone.

Grandma's walking posture was also quite unique.

Her steps were slow and delicate, each step taken with utmost care, as if the path beneath her feet was fraught with unknown dangers.

Her body leaned slightly forward, her center of gravity seemed unsteady, and her swaying appearance made one worry that she might fall at any moment.

Congcong often stares blankly at the way his grandmother walks, his heart filled with confusion.

My grandmother had a habit of foot binding, which was a tedious and painful process.

Congcong had witnessed firsthand how her grandmother would prepare long strips of white cloth, then sit in a chair and wrap her feet up little by little.

Her expression shifted between pain and helplessness.

Congcong asked his grandmother curiously why she did this, and his grandmother just sighed softly and said that it was a custom from the past.

Congcong noticed that her grandmother's shoes were different from others. They were a pair of small, embroidered shoes, exquisite yet seemingly cramped.

Grandma found it even harder to walk in these shoes, but she persevered nonetheless.

Over the years, foot binding seemed to become my grandmother's way of life and code of conduct, and she did so until her death.

For young Congcong, his grandmother's bound feet were an incomprehensible mystery.

He didn't understand why his grandmother had to suffer like this, nor did he understand why this strange custom existed.

This question was deeply buried in Congcong's heart, becoming an inescapable question mark in his childhood.

As he grew older, Congcong gradually understood that this was the persecution of women by feudal ethics, but the doubts of his childhood remained deep in his memory forever.

Full of questions, Congcong asked his parents about the reason why his grandmother had bound feet.

When Congcong asked his question, his parents showed complicated expressions.

They were silent for a moment, seemingly considering how to answer the question.

Then, the father spoke softly: “Child, this is an old custom from the past. Back then, everyone thought that women had to bind their feet, saying it was a kind of beauty.”

The mother added, "But this kind of beauty is built on suffering; it is an unreasonable demand on women."

The father frowned and continued, "But in the social environment at that time, everyone did it this way. If you didn't bind your feet, you would be considered to be against the rules and would be pointed at and gossiped about."

The mother sighed and said, "Our grandmother was also forced to accept this fate; she had no other choice."

The parents' answers were simple and vague; they seemed unwilling to delve deeper into this heavy topic.

Their eyes revealed a sense of helplessness and criticism towards this outdated custom.

The father patted Congcong on the shoulder and said, "Son, times have changed. Women have more freedom and rights and no longer have to suffer like this."

The mother stroked Congcong's head and said, "We must remember these things from the past and cherish the good life we ​​have now."

Congcong listened to his parents' answers, and although he still didn't quite understand, he could sense that his parents' attitude towards the matter was one of disapproval and sympathy.

He knew that his parents were also saddened by what his grandmother had gone through.

From his parents' simple answers, Congcong understood that some past customs were not all reasonable, and that society was progressing and people's ideas were constantly changing.

Although his doubts about his grandmother's bound feet were not completely resolved, they gave him more to think about regarding the past and his present life.

Congcong eagerly awaited a satisfactory answer from his parents regarding his grandmother's bound feet, but their simple and vague response filled him with disappointment.

He looked at his parents, his eyes filled with confusion and bewilderment. He couldn't understand why his parents couldn't give him a clear and complete explanation.

In the days that followed, Congcong recalled countless times his grandmother's twisted little feet and the way she walked so carefully. The question in his heart was like a heavy stone, making it hard for him to breathe.

But who could he turn to for answers?