Old Stories from the South of the City Reading Story 500

A story of Lin Haiyin's love of reading

The Stealing of Books in Old Stories from the South of the City is a story that shows Lin Haiyin's love of reading.

Lin Haiyin wrote in the story of "Theft of Reading": I hurriedly read the book, one page, two pages, I was like a hungry wolf, reading greedily. I am very happy, but also very afraid, - this kind of eavesdropping on the taste!

"Stealing the book" part of the original text is as follows:

Turned the corner, saw the three Yangchun's punchy signboard, smelled the aroma of stir-fried vegetables, heard the sound of pots and spoons banging, I breathed a sigh of relief, and slowed down my pace. After class from the school rushed here, the body has been sweaty, finally arrived at the destination ---- destination is not three Yangchun, but a bookstore immediately adjacent to it.

As I walked, I thought, "What did I read yesterday? Where is that book sitting? Third row on the left, not bad ...... "When I walked to the entrance of the bookstore, I could see that the bookstore was still crowded with customers as usual, and I could feel relieved. But I was worried that the book would be sold out, because I had seen people buying it for several days, and yesterday it seemed that there were only one or two copies left.

I stepped through the door of the bookstore, secretly pleased that no one was looking. I tiptoed through the armpits of adults, yo, messed up my short hair, it's okay, I finally squeezed in. My eyes searched eagerly through the rows of colorful books, but I couldn't find the book. From the top, counting again, ah! Here it is, not where it was yesterday, as it turns out.

I was glad that it had not actually been sold, and was still lying flat on the shelf, waiting for me. How glad I was, and how eagerly I reached for it, but arriving at the same time as mine was a giant palm, five fingers spread wide apart, pressing down on the entirety of that book:

"Are you going to buy it or not?"

The voice wasn't too loud, and it startled the other customers, who all turned back to face me. Like a thief caught in the act, I turned red with shame and embarrassment. I looked up, embarrassed, at him - the owner of that bookstore, who looked down on me with authority. He owned the store, and he had all the reason in the world to treat me with that voice. In a voice that almost cried out, I rebelled sadly:

"Can't I even look?" How weak my voice actually was!

In full view of everyone, I stepped out of the store almost in a state of distress, followed closely behind my heel by the boss's sneer, "Not once!" Not once? That tone was kind of forgiving of me, as if I were a habitual thief who could no longer be forgiven. But was I stealing something? I was but a poor student who could not afford to buy and longed to read that book!

Once upon a time, I happened to walk past the window of a bookstore, which happened to have a few books that I had admired for a long time but had not had the chance to read, and the desire drove me, and I couldn't help but walk into the bookstore to inquire about its price. Maybe I'm too small, unnoticeable, no one came to greet, I just casually open a book on the long table, slowly read on, read a while still no one cares about, and the story of the book has made me concentrate on, can not put down. Until a lot of work, only to come over a clerk, I hurriedly closed the book to hand him to see, as if asking him the price, I know, any cheap price for me is in vain, I never have extra money to buy.

But since then, I have learned a way to read without spending a penny. After class, I rushed to this "cultural street", where bookstores abound, giving me more opportunities.

(1) The Old Story of the South of the City 500 Extended Readings :

The Story of Stealing Readings

The story of the modern writer Ms. Lin Haiyin, a piece of prose. This article to steal reading as a clue, describing the author rushed to the bookstore after school, hiding in the many customers, borrowing rainy days to steal reading, to the evening only reluctant to leave the reading process.

It really shows the author's love of reading and desire for literary knowledge.

The author's synthesis of meticulous action, self-talking monologue and other descriptive methods and metaphorical rhetorical devices, so that the article is full of moving charm.

II The Old Story of Chengnan When Yingzi Went to School

The newly built auditorium was full of people; we graduates sat in the first eight rows, and I again sat in the middle seat of the top row. I had a pink oleander on my lapel, which my mom had picked from the yard to pin on me when I was coming in, and she said, "The oleander was planted by your dad; wear it as if your dad had seen you when you were on stage!"

Dad is sick and he is in the hospital and can't come.

Yesterday I went to see Dad, his throat was swollen and his voice was a whisper. I told Dad that during the line graduation ceremony, I received the diploma on behalf of all the students and gave a speech of thanks. I asked Dad if he could get up and attend my graduation? Six years ago, when he attended our school's graduation party, he told me to work hard, and six years later, he would receive the diploma on behalf of my classmates and give a speech of thanks. Today, "six years later" is here, I was really chosen to do this thing.

My father, dumbfounded, took my hand and smiled and said:

"How can I go?"

But I said:

"Dad, I'm scared if you don't go. You'll be under the stage, and I won't panic if I go on stage and talk."

"Yingzi, don't be afraid, no matter what the difficulty is, just tough it out and break through."

"Then can't Daddy also get up out of bed and go to our school with a hard head?"

Dad looked at me, shook his head, and stopped talking. He turns his face toward the wall and raises his hand to look at the nails on it. Then he turned his face back to me and admonished me:

"Wake up early tomorrow, pack up and get to school, it's your last day of elementary school, you can't be late!"

"I know, Dad."

"Without Dad, you have to mind yourself even more, and mind your brother and sister, you're old enough, aren't you?"

"Yes." I said yes, but I felt uncomfortable with what my dad was saying, and how had I ever been late for school since that one time six years ago?

When I was in first grade, I had the problem of staying in bed in the morning. Wake up every morning, see the sun shines on the glass window, my heart is a burst of sadness: already so late, and so up, wash your face, braid your hair, change your uniform, and then go to school, quasi-again, a classroom is punished to stand by the door. The eyes of the classmates will be thrown at you one by one, although I am very lazy, but I also know that shyness ah! So I was worried and scared, and every day I ran to school with a sense of dread. The worst thing is that the father does not allow children to go to school by car, he does not care whether you are late or not.

One day, it was raining heavily, and I woke up knowing that it was not early, because my father was already eating breakfast. I listened and looked at the rain, and my heart was so sad. Not only was I going to be late for school, but I was going to be dressed up by my mom in a fat jacket (it was in the summer!) and kicking and dragging my ill-fitting oiled shoes (a kind of rain shoe, waterproof.) ), holding up a large oiled paper umbrella, and walking to school! The thought of going to school so uncomfortable, I actually had the courage to stay in bed and not get up.

Wait a minute, mom came in. She was startled to see that I hadn't gotten up yet and urged me on, but I furrowed my brow and whispered to my mom pleading,

"Mom, it's late today, so I won't go to school, right?"

Mom just couldn't do Dad's idea, and as she turned to go out, Dad came in. He was thin and tall, standing in front of the bed, glaring at me:

"Why don't you get up, get up! Get up!"

"It's late! Dad!" I said stiffly.

"You have to go even if you're late, how can you skip school! Up!"

One word commands are the worst, but what happened to me? I can't believe I had the courage not to move.

Dad was so angry that he dragged me out of bed, and my tears came out. Dad looked left and right, the result from the table copied the duster inverted to take, cane whip in the air a whirl, it made a shoosh sound, I was beaten!

Dad beat me from the head of the bed to the corner of the bed, from the bed to the bottom of the bed, the sound of the rain outside mixed with my cries. I cried and hollered, ducked and finally went to school in the pouring rain. I was a woeful puppy being carried by Song's mom in the foreign car - the first time I paid for a ride to school.

I sat in the car with the awning down, huffing and puffing and crying as I lifted up my pant legs to examine my bruises. The whip marks, which were bulging, were red and glowing hot. I pulled the leg of my pants down to cover the bottom one of the bruises; I was most afraid of being laughed at by my classmates.

Although I was late, the teacher didn't penalize me for standing, which was excusable because of the rain.

The teacher told us to be silent before reading. Sit up straight, hands behind your back, close your eyes and think quietly for five minutes. The teacher said: think about it, are you listening to your parents and teachers? Did you do your homework yesterday? Did you bring all your homework for today? Did you say goodbye politely to your parents in the morning? ...... When I heard this, my nose twitched a big time, but fortunately my eyes were closed, and the tears did not flow out.

Being in the middle of the silence, my shoulder was tapped, hastily opened my eyes, it turned out to be the teacher standing by my seat. He told me to look out the classroom window with a wink, and I turned my head sharply, and there was the tall, thin shadow of my dad!

My heart, which had just quieted down, was scared again! Why did Dad chase me to school? Dad nodded and signaled to beckon me out. I looked at the teacher for permission, and the teacher smiled and nodded his head, saying yes to my going out.

I walked out of the classroom and stood in front of Dad. Without saying anything, Dad opened the bag in his hand and took out my flowery jacket. He handed it to me, watched me put it on, and took out two more coins and gave them to me.

I don't remember what happened after that, because it was six years ago. I only remember that from then until today, every morning I was one of the students who waited for the janitor to open the big iron fence school gate. I stood in front of the gate on winter mornings, wearing the kind of gloves that showed my five fingers, and holding up a hot piece of baked white potato to eat. On summer mornings, I stood in front of the school gate, holding in my hand the hairpin flower I picked from the flower pond, and gave it to my dear teacher Han, who taught me how to dance.

Ah! This morning has gone by year after year, and today is my last day in this school!

When the bell rang, the graduation ceremony was about to begin. The day outside is a bit cloudy, and I suddenly wondered if my father would suddenly get up from his bed and send me a flower jacket. And I thought, when will Dad get well? Why are mom's eyes red and swollen this morning? The pomegranates and oleanders in the big pot in the yard were not given on the hemp dregs this year by Dad, who was so anxious for his uncle to be killed by the Japanese that he spat out blood, and the pomegranate blossoms didn't bloom so red and big by the May Festival. If fall comes, will Dad still have to buy that many chrysanthemums to fill our yard, under the porch eaves, and on the trellis in the living room?

How Dad loved flowers.

Every day when he came home from work and we waited for him at the door, he pushed his straw hat behind his head and picked up his little brother, walked past the tap, picked up the filled sprinkler, and sang his way to the backyard. The first thing he did when he came home was water the flowers. The sun was about to go down, and a cool breeze was blowing in the yard when Dad picked a jasmine and stuck it in his skinny chicken sister's hair. The uncle of the Chen family said to Dad, "Old Lin, you like flowers like that, so your wife had a bunch of daughters!" I have four sisters and only two brothers. I'm only 12 years old ......

Why do I always think about this? Director Han was already on stage. He said very seriously, "All of you have graduated, you are going to leave the six years of elementary school to go to secondary school to study, to be a secondary school student is not a small child, when you return to the elementary school to see the teacher, I must be happy to see you all grow taller and grow up ......"

So I sang the five years of the LIXI, and now it's the turn of the students to sing to us to send off: "outside the long pavilion, by the ancient road, the grass is blue even the sky. I ask you how long you will be here, and when you come, don't wander! The end of the world, the corner of the earth, friends half scattered, life is rarely a reunion, but there are farewell more ......"

I cried, we graduates are crying. How we love to grow taller and become adults, and how we fear it! When we come back to elementary school, no matter how tall and big we grow, teacher! You must always take me as a child ah!

Being an adult, often people want me to be an adult.

When Song's mom was on her way back to her hometown, she said:

"Yingzi, when you're older, you can't argue with your brother anymore! He's still young."

As Aunt Lan followed that four-eyed dog onto the carriage, she said:

"Yingzi, you're big enough not to incur your mother's wrath!"

The one squatting in the grass said:

"When you graduate from elementary school and grow up, we'll go see the sea."

Although, these people are no longer shadowed as I grow up. Was it lost along with my lost childhood?

Dad didn't treat me as a child anymore either, he said:

"Yingzi, go and send this money to Uncle Chen who is studying in Japan."

"Dad!"

"Don't be afraid, Yingzi, you have to learn to do many things so that you can help your mother in the future. You are the biggest."

So he counted the money and told me how to go to the Shojin Bank in Dongjiaominxiang Alley to send the money - go to the innermost counter and ask for a money order, fill in the form "Gold 7,000 yen also", write down the address in Yokohama, Japan, and give it to the little Japanese at the counter! I'm not going to be able to do that.

I was scared, but I had to go - this is what my father said, no matter what the difficulty, as long as you do it, you'll get through it.

"Bust through practice, bust through practice, Eiko." That's what my dad urged me to do when I was leaving.

I went to the bank with a roll of bills squeezed tightly in my hand in a nervous mood. When I came out of the highest step of the bank, I looked at the dandelion beds in the streets of Dongjiaominxiang Alley, and I thought happily, "I've come through, so I'll go home, tell my father, and ask him to plant dandelions in the flower beds tomorrow too.

Go home!

They're not the only ones. Holding my freshly issued elementary school diploma, a white paper tube tied with a red ribbon, I pushed myself as if I were afraid I wouldn't be able to catch up with something, why?

Inside the house, quiet, four sisters and two brothers are sitting in the yard on a small bench, they are playing with the sand, next to the oleander at some point drooped down a number of branches, scattered very unlike, because Dad did not clean up this year - pruning, bundling and fertilization.

The pomegranate tree also had a few small, ungrown pomegranates under the bottom of the big pot, and I was so angry that I asked my sisters:

"Who picked Daddy's pomegranates off? I'm going to tell daddy to go!"

My sisters' eyes widened in surprise, and they shook their heads and said, "They fell off by themselves."

I picked up the little green pomegranates. Old Gao, the cook who was missing a finger, came in from outside and said:

"Missy, don't say anything about telling your father, your mom just called from the hospital and told you to hurry up, your father has ......"

Why did he not say any more? I suddenly felt anxious and shouted,

"What did you say? Old High."

"Missy, when you get to the hospital, talk to your mom, you're the oldest here! You're the oldest!"

The skinny chicken sister was still grabbing Yanyan's gadgets as her brother filled the glass bottle with sand. Yes, I'm the big one here, I'm the tiny adult. I said to Lao Gao:

"Lao Gao, I know what's going on, I'm going to the hospital." I have never been so calm, so quiet.

I put my elementary school diploma, into the desk drawer, and then came out, Lao Gao had already hired a car to the hospital for me.

The first time I saw this, I was in the middle of the night, and I was in the middle of the night.

I am no longer a child.

Three Old Stories from the South of the City Reading Record Card. The main characters and brief summaries of four of the short stories. With a picture.

1. Little Beans by the Window