Return To 1977 Chapter 54: Homecoming

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A No. 102 trolleybus with a beige upper part and sky blue lower part, dragging a "big braid" slowly entered the station. As soon as the car pulled into the station, the dust kicked up by the wheels and the strong smell of gasoline hit our face.

Before the dust settled, thirty or forty passengers swarmed to the door of the car, but Hong Yanwu, who was in front, was squeezed out of the crowd.

Hong Yanwu was really startled, his heart trembled, and he subconsciously closed his pockets. Nothing else, he was worried about encountering a thief who "robbed the door". If it was stolen again, he would have to kill himself.

These days there are no traffic wardens waving flags to maintain order, so chaos is inevitable. These people squeezing the car used all their strength, grabbing and pulling at all costs, as if they would lose their lives if they waited one more minute, which made many people who couldn't stand the squeeze miserable.

A person carrying a luggage roll couldn't get up because of the crowd, and he complained in a hurry, "Oh, it's so crowded. How can I get it up if I don't get it up first?"

Another woman who had just squeezed into the car was also shouting, "Oh my god, what are you doing? My shoes are all falling apart."

Seeing this, the conductor quickly looked out the window and knocked the ticket holder loudly. But no matter how much she yelled, people still went their own way, squeezing in and continuing to pour into the car door. In fact, rather than saying that the conductor is maintaining order, it is better to say that she is proving her existence.

Among all the people who got on the bus, only Hong Yanwu showed high quality. He didn't fight or grab, and he took the initiative to give way to the people behind him and got on the bus until he was the last one in line. It's a pity that his behavior is out of tune with this era. Even the conductor looked at him as if he was looking at a fool.

The bus finally started moving, and the conductor opened the ticket holder to greet us. "Comrades who don't have tickets, please buy a ticket. Comrades who just got on the bus bought a ticket..."

In this era, the fare set by the bus company is five cents for a mile of six stops. Hong Yanwu wanted to go to Taoranting Swimming Pool to transfer to Route 40, so when he bought the ticket, he said he would only take one stop. Unexpectedly, he saw a strange look in the eyes of the conductor and other passengers. For this reason, I thought about it for a long time before I figured out that in this era, in order to save money, most people would choose "Route 11" to walk on foot for short distances. He didn't have any luggage and he wasn't a foreigner, so he took a bus so close. In the eyes of others, he is undoubtedly a spendthrift prodigal.

Because he was very eager to see the streets outside, Hong Yanwu bought a ticket, stood on the steps at the door of the car and turned around.

The scenery he saw through the unclean car door glass was a large area of ​​gray bungalows interspersed with narrow alleys. The whitewashed walls, wooden doors and windows are all covered in fine loess dust. The streets are narrow, there are few car lanes, and the streets are mostly occupied by cyclists and pedestrians. In short, the capital city of more than thirty years ago was not yet the modern city made of cement and steel bars that it would be in the future. There were no overpasses, no high-rise buildings, no feasting, no karaoke bars, just the spring sand, the blue sky, and the undercurrent of longing to go home in his heart.

Soon, the trolley bus drove onto the cement bridge leading to Taiping Street. This is of great significance, because it means that Hong Yanwu is crossing the moat, crossing the dividing line between the suburbs, and is about to truly enter the city.

No traffic jams, no red lights, smooth flow all the way.

The moment he entered the territory of the capital, Hong Yanwu felt a deep sense of joy in his heart. It wasn't until now that he truly entered the capital.

Human feelings cherish the earth, and birds miss their hometown. After decades of expectations and decades of crazy dreams, he never imagined that he would be able to set foot on the road home again. It's not a snarky comment, he really feels like a poem. Home, finally.

After "102" drove over the cement bridge, the swimming pool station arrived quickly. The place where Hong Yanwu got off the bus was at the gate of Taoranting Swimming Pool, opposite the east gate of Taoranting Park.

In the early spring of 1977, the entrance fee to Taoranting Park was still three cents. But the entrance was not lively at all. There were only two or three tourists, and it was very deserted. Standing at the station and looking into the park gate facing the street, you will first see a desolate scene of decaying popularity and dilapidation.

Hong Yanwu has been to this park countless times, but he has never spent the "wasted money" on tickets. This is all because he has known a secret since he was a child - near the tannery in the north of the park, there is an iron fence that was twisted by tannery workers. According to the principle that if his head can go in, his body can go in, he has always regarded that place as the only entrance.

Actually, Furuli is not far from here. Hong Yanwu could totally walk home. As long as he enters from the east gate of Taoranting Park, he can reach the north gate of the park in less than twenty minutes. After exiting the north gate, he only needs to walk one stop to the west and he will be home.

However, because going home today has special meaning, he decided to take bus 40, walk along Taiping Street, turn to Taoranting Road, and then go to Baizhifang East Street. Along the way were places he was familiar with since childhood, and places that recorded the trajectory of his life for the first twenty years. He wanted to take a good look at the street scenes along the way, and tell them that he, Hong Yanwu, was back.

The replacement car was right where it was, and the car came within a few minutes.

What Hong Yanwu boarded this time was a "Skoda" with a white top and a red bottom that looked like bread. Su-style bread with this style is the No. 40 bus of this era, and it is also the most common dilapidated bus on the streets of Beijing in this era.

It's not time to get off work yet, and there's no one in the car. You can see that there are scrap tickets and paper scraps everywhere in the carriage. The seats and handles of the carriage have been worn away and have no luster. The brown artificial leather seat cover has long been cracked, and the black sponge head is exposed. It is very dirty and rotten. Fortunately, it was early spring and the weather was cold, so the smell in the car was bearable.

But this car is definitely on the verge of being scrapped. The roaring sound of the motor is annoying, and every part is making a squeaking noise. When driving on the road, it looked like a guy with a weak stomach, constantly making smokey ring farts. The passengers were all like theatergoers, bobbing their heads in unison to the bumping gongs and drums. With every bump, not only the armrest rings would sway in the air, but even the wooden floor of the car would raise a cloud of dust, which looked like a layer of fog under the sunlight.

Hong Yanwu took a seat by the window. Everything he saw now was fresh and familiar. In his eyes, this seemed to be a time bus leading to the past.

The common people's cards have turned into ticket holders and pencil stubs in the hands of conductors, and the laptops and plastic bags in the hands of passengers have also turned into aluminum lunch boxes and glass mesh bags. There are no longer dedicated bus lanes on the road, the torrent of cars has disappeared from sight, and even the buses themselves have changed from air-conditioned vehicles back to trailers. The most amazing thing is that a carriage appears directly in front of the bus, blocking the way of the bus.

As the car horn sounds, loud shouts from the handlebars can be heard. Then there was a whip cracking the air, and the carriage was forced to the side of the road. When the No. 40 bus's motor roared and puffed out exhaust gas as it passed by the carriage, Hong Yanwu saw a big brown-red horse pulling a flatbed cart through the window. I saw it snoring, steaming white, and running on the asphalt road with clattering iron hooves. The rider looked very calm, sitting on the creaking cart, holding a long whip in one hand and holding the reins in the other. Such a special situation that is very contemporary will not be seen in the future even in movies.

For a moment, Hong Yanwu seemed to have had a dream of changing time and space. He couldn't help but imagine what kind of shock would happen if the Soviet-style bread he was in was moved to the Third Ring Road in 2012. Then, he imagined what the effect would be like if he drove a Bentley on the street in front of him.

Route "40" goes all the way north and heads west from the T-junction of Taiping Street.

Ahead is the north gate of Taoranting Park, and then you’ll find Baizhifang East Street. We’re almost there.

Hong Yanwu stared out the window, reluctant to move his head away. He pressed his body against the car window and pulled the glass back with his fingers to see more clearly. He recognized the familiar places little by little. This is the Black Kiln Factory, this is the Sipingyuan Hutong, this is the Longquan Hutong, and in front of it is the Longzhahuai Hutong...

Slowly, the scaly claw passing through his mind dispelled the strangeness of time and awakened more memories. He was impressed by the painted cast-iron fences in the park, the rows of old locust trees on both sides of the road that blocked out the sun, the painted wooden telegraph poles, and the private houses with gray walls and blue tiles. I also have the impression that I feel extremely close to the dormitory building of the Northern Kunqu Opera Troupe. The courtyards and alleys that had been covered by buildings in the past, and the battlefields where bricks were flying that made him famous, were all resurrected before his eyes

The car stopped, the door brake sighing. The conductor's loud voice announced the station lazily: "Zixin Road has arrived."

Hong Yanwu jumped out of the car. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he walked west along the north side of the road and went straight to the alley entrance of Fululi without thinking.

Go home!

At this time, he felt like he was about to return home and couldn’t wait any longer!

In front of the bathhouse on the north side of the road. The dark green old mailbox was still poking there silently, and next to the mailbox was still the car storage area surrounded by a circle of black cast iron shelves. In the car storage area, the bald old man with the enamel tea jar was still looking at the car. Even the bathhouse is still so lively, and you can hear the bustle of people inside from outside.

Hong Yanwu walked through quickly with hurried steps.

Looking further ahead, opposite the alley entrance, the grocery store is still in the same place. The person sleeping on the cardboard box at the door is a large tabby cat raised by a nearby resident. He was sleeping so hard that he didn't care about the old lady who was kidnapping him. Although it is so lazy, you can't imagine how fast it is when catching mice.

After walking a few more steps, we arrived at the entrance of the alley. Hong Yanwu turned right and plunged in, leaving the hustle and bustle of the road behind him in an instant.

As the alley narrows, the sky shrinks in size. The sunlight clearly casts the shadow of the house on the wall and floor, making the road home look clean and bright. Everything in sight is almost entirely gray, very gray like the capital city.

A familiar smell and temperature are quickly spreading. Hong Yanwu thought of the pigeon whistle that resounded through the sky, the crisp calls of indigo chins or oriole, the cheers of children competing to fly kites, the ringing of bicycle bells breaking through the tranquility of the alley, and the neighbors The bows and greetings from the neighbors, the benevolence and generosity of the sixth uncle and the fifth uncle, the babbling and singing of Beijing and Hu, and the humorous laughter of cross talk and singing. All this made him deeply feel that the old life was so peaceful, comfortable and easy-going.

This is Furuli.