How much pain, how happy

On the day he received the admission letter, he and his father were pulling weeds in the summer fields under the scorching sun. The postman stopped his car in the field and called out his name. The father wiped his hands on his trousers, went over, took the letter, opened it, read it twice, folded it in half, and pocketed it. His father said to him, you have been admitted to the university. Then squat down and pull the grass.

Both he and his father were calm that day. Even though they both knew what that letter of acceptance meant to his future.

The next night my father took out a wad of money. My father said that was all. At home, and relatives... I borrowed everything I could... You're a few hundred bucks short. You figure it out. His red eyes said, "I won't go then." His father looked at him and, without speaking, rolled himself a cigarette and lit it quietly. In a cloud of smoke, my father stared at the unfurled acceptance letter, his expression humble and reverent. For a long time, the father raised his head and said, Tomorrow go to the mountains to catch scorpions.

There are scorpions on the hills behind the village. Catch scorpions, dry them, take them to the county's purchasing station, the bigger ones can sell for 20 cents, the smaller ones can sell for 10 cents. A few years ago, hunting scorpions in leisure time was an important source of income for many villagers. But he calculated that even if he caught all the big scorpions, he would need more than a thousand to cover his tuition. Having been away from school for a short time, he considered it an impossible task.

"I'll help you get it," said the father.

That summer, he and his father climbed all the hills behind the village with tweezers and bamboo tubes. They rose from dawn to dusk and caught hundreds of scorpions. The clumsy father was stung on the hand several times by a scorpion. Fortunately, those scorpions were not poisonous, or my father would have died many times that summer.

Only three days after leaving school, my father went to the county. It was a long way, and my father moved before dawn. He waited at home that day, restless. He didn't know if the scorpions he and his father spent a summer catching would turn into money, let alone whether he could set foot in the college campus he longed for. He wondered if he would have had the courage to live, if he had had to live like his father, on his back in the dirt.

It was dark when my father came back. He met his eyes eagerly, but dared not ask. His father smiled at him and said, All is well. My father loosened his tight grip -- the bills were already wet with sweat. He took the money and never let it go. It was as if if he let go, his college dream would suddenly be shattered.

Campus life is tense and happy. He scrimped and put all his energy into his lessons. His hard work soon paid off. In his first year, he received the highest scholarship. But life didn't really get easier -- he had to be stingy with every penny.

He almost spent his first summer vacation in the mountains of his hometown. Armed with tweezers and bamboo tubes, he and his father rummaged stone by stone. Experience helped them. That summer, he and his father caught more scorpions. Still a few days before he started school, his father took those scorpions and went to the county seat. He was still waiting for his father at home. This time, unlike the first time, he was strangely excited.

Father came back with more money. That's normal -- there were more of them and they were bigger this time. His father handed him the money and leaned against the door, panting softly. He found his father's face pale. He asked his father if he was feeling well. His father smiled at him and said, "It's all right. I'm in a hurry." The smile made the wrinkles on his face more crowded.

The next summer, he was still eager to rush home and play hide-and-seek with a mountain of scorpions, armed with tweezers and bamboo tubes. He thought it was not a scorpion, it was a lovely note, it was his hope and his bright future. He said to his father, prices are rising so fast, this scorpion should also have a price? Father said maybe, maybe the price will go up this year. He says if you can make more money this year, why don't you buy a new dress? The father said no. You keep it all... Go out, not at home.

He remembered as if his father had never bought clothes. Since the day he could remember, my father had worn several shabby clothes in rotation. When he grew up, his father wore clothes he could no longer wear. Father had grown small and dry, and now even his clothes were disproportionately wide and wide. Father in his tracksuit, shirt, baggy pants, open-toed sneakers... The father wore them to the fields, to visit relatives, to the mountains to catch scorpions, to the county purchasing station... Father really needs a coat for his body, he thought.

But Father still didn't spend any money on himself, although this time he came back with more money. He said that the price of scorpions really increased, the big four points a, small two points a. The father, his face pale, leaned against the door frame, panting violently. He helped his father to sit on the end of the kang. He said, if we catch scorpions next year, I'll sell them. The father said no. You don't know anyone at the shopping station. It will sell at a loss. Father unrolled the money one by one. Each one, he gently unfurls his brow.

The third summer, he brought back a classmate. My classmates are from the city and have never seen a real mountain. In fact, he was already working as a tutor in the city -- three hours a day on Saturdays and Sundays. The money he earned as a tutor came in handy for his studies. But he still wanted to catch scorpions. Catching scorpions seems to have become his pleasure and habit. Although my father was too busy to catch scorpions, he and his classmates still caught more scorpions, almost as many as the previous years combined. As school was about to start, he showed the scorpion to his father. Father said why so much? He said maybe because of the drought this year, scorpions in particular... Besides, I've had three years of scorpion hunting experience... And with the help of my classmates... My father smiled. "Good," said the father. "Tomorrow I will go to the county."

His father, coming back from the county seat, suddenly fell down in front of him. The father tried to get up quickly after the fall, but he couldn't. My father's face was as white as a sheet of paper in his baggy tracksuit and open-toed sneakers. Scared silly, he helped his father up. He said what's the matter with you? Father said nothing, ran in a hurry... Scorpions are the largest and most abundant this year. Money, of course, sells the most. His father pulled out the money in front of him and counted them, laughing proudly as he counted them. Father's face is full of sweat, the sweat along the deep wrinkles, slowly flowing down. He thought that if he caught scorpions next year, he could not ask his father to sell them. The long mountain road was too much for father... Maybe my father is getting old.

During his last summer of college, he returned with news that cheered his father up: He had found a job early and would be able to go to work after graduation. It's white-collar workers. It's a well-known company. It was tantamount to saying that in a few months he would receive a handsome salary and live a decent life. Father was so happy that day that he invited many villagers and had a feast in the yard. He said his son would become a white-collar worker and put down roots in the city. In fact, my father did not know the meaning of white-collar. Perhaps he thinks that it is the equivalent of village head level cadres.

He went up the hill anyway, with his tweezers and bamboo tube. He wanted to catch more scorpions, sell them for money, and buy his father a decent suit of clothes. Father said don't catch this year, you will graduate, the family is not short of money. He said it was for fun. Father thought for a moment, said, that you catch more, I go to the county. And he said, All right. But how could he let his father go to the county again? That day, he carried on his father's back, carrying the fruits of a summer's labor, secretly ran to the county seat. This, he thought, might surprise his father.

He found the purchasing station and pushed a large bag of scorpions onto the counter. 'he said proudly.' All big... I think they should be 40 cents each. The man in the counter looked at him inexplicably and said, we have long since stopped accepting scorpions ah... Collect scorpions? What, 10 years ago? He was stunned. And he said how? My father sells scorpions every year! Men really don't take it anymore. It's been years. He remained unconvinced. He carefully described his father to the man. He found that he had to use words like "hunchback," "white hair," "thin black," and "cough" to describe his father accurately. Finally, the man remembered. He said there was such an uncle. Four or five years ago, one day, he took a bag of dried scorpions to sell, I told him no more scorpions, but he wouldn't go. He said he had to sell them, because his son needed the money. Because these scorpions are his son's last chance. He's been standing here all morning, all but kneeling down. I told him there was an underground blood bank not far from here, and he could sell his blood if he wanted to. I know the bloody head there... I can set him up with...

He stood listening, feeling a great deal of pain and sorrow. He thought of his father's pale face and the sweat on his head, and cursed himself for his insensitivity. For years, my father had sold his blood to help him through school, and he had no idea! He also wisely thought scorpions would go up in price! He also brought his classmates to help him catch more and bigger scorpions! When he happily put a scorpion into the hand of the bamboo tube, in fact, it is not a scorpion, it is all father drop by drop of blood ah!

It was he, he thought, who forced his father to continue to sell his blood. And the father, but silently cooperate with him, seamless performance. The thought of his father in his shabby baggy clothes standing at the blood station pleading for help made him cry.

... The man asked him, Why are you crying? Who is that old man to you?

He straightened up, he said I was his son; He is my father...

He came home late that day. He presented his father with a new coat. I bought it for you, he said. Where did father say you got the money? 'I sold all the scorpions this summer at the county's purchasing station...

The father was embarrassed and ashamed -- he knew that his son knew all about it. They sat down at the table to eat, two men, and there was a long silence.

Suddenly my father looked up. He said that it was right for me to sell my blood, because I was a father and I wanted your study and future. But you sold your blood to buy me a new suit. Is it worth it?

He dropped his chopsticks and squeezed his father's hand. He said it was worth it. Of course it is. I went to sell my blood, not only because I want to buy you a new suit, but also because I want to know, when that thick needle into the body, how painful, how happy...