The story of "Wanka," the Voice of the Heart, evokes a deep nostalgia for the past in Li Jingjing. He wanted to read it aloud in class, but his teacher said he was "hoarse" and refused his request. In the open class, Jingjing could not help raising his hand ...... after the school bell had already rung. Sitting at the window of the Jingjing a little side of the face, I saw the backpacks to the school entrance to the classmates. Everyone was dismissed, it was their class that was still not dismissed. Mr. Cheng always liked to drag it out for a few minutes, as if that would make the whole class get a hundred percent on the test. "Li Jingjing! Concentrate!" With a scolding, Jingjing was startled and hurriedly twisted her face back. Mr. Cheng's gaze was fixed on him with dissatisfaction. Teacher Cheng was a girl in her twenties, with short cropped hair, thick dark eyebrows, and an angular mouth, looking a bit like a boy. Even her speech, gestures, and walk had such a decisive energy, and at a glance, one could tell that she was a serious, good-natured, and somewhat self-confident person. "Everyone pay attention, this matter is very important." Mr. Cheng flexed his index finger and gently tapped the podium. "The district education bureau is organizing an open teaching class in our class for the first time, this is a matter of honor for the whole school, have you all read the handout that was sent down yesterday?" Printed on the handout was a novel, Wanka, written by the Russian author Chekhov. Jingjing read it several times. It was a story he loved. The poor, pathetic little man, Wanka, somehow always haunted him, causing him to be a little bit in a trance all day. Mr. Cheng's gaze swept over the faces of the class, "In class, we are required to read aloud with expression. Everyone take out your handouts." There was a rustling sound and everyone took out their handouts and placed them squarely in front of them. "It will be read aloud by these students that day. Lin Rong, you read the first paragraph. Zhao Xiaozhen, read from 'Dear Grandpa ......' to 'as if people had taken snow and washed and polished it for the festival'. Zhou Hai, you read from ...... "Mr. Cheng named six students in one ****, then said, "In class, I said, 'Read the text aloud with expression.' You guys just raise your hands. One by one in order. As for the other students, just sit up straight while you listen." Jingjing squirmed uneasily in her seat and looked blearily at the teacher as if she wanted to say something. "Li Jingjing, it's you again who's not settling down." Teacher Cheng frowned. Jingjing blushed and lowered her head. But then raised his head again and raised his hand. "What is it?" Jing Jing stood up and stammered, "Teacher, can I ...... read a paragraph?" "No," Teacher Cheng replied dryly, "No. Your voice is so hoarse that you can't read well." Jingjing hung his head. How he loved this story! He really wanted to read a paragraph, even if it was just a few lines! He would be able to read it well. Did one have to have a singing voice to read a text aloud? On his way home, he passed a small wood. The woods were quiet, and there were no pedestrians anywhere near or far. Jingjing's heart beats, can not help but lean on a tree, and took out the handout from the bag. The handout was recently printed, the ink smell is still so strong, so fragrant, really good smell. He chose a passage and read it out softly, "'Dear Grandfather Constantine Makarich!' He wrote, 'I am writing to you. I wish you a merry Christmas and ask God to bless you. I have no father or mother, and you are the only one left who is my family.' ...... "Kyo sighed and walked away. The handout slipped from between his fingers and floated to the ground without him noticing, not moving a muscle. He too had a grandfather in the countryside. As a child, he had grown up at his grandfather's. Grandpa had a shiny, glossy water pipe, and when he smoked, he shouted, "Fire!" Jingjing hurriedly brought a twist of paper, lit the fire, and handed it to his grandfather. Grandpa blew out the fire with a puff, and then took a few puffs, inhaling y and exhaling long and hard, as if he was too good to be true. After smoking, grandpa put down the water pipe bag, a hand will Jingjing in his arms, began to say: "Once upon a time there was a rich man, hired two brothers to work as long laborers in the house ......" In the summer, at night, grandpa moved a bamboo chair to the threshing floor to take a cooler, Jingjing curled up in the like a puppy next to him. He was curled up next to him like a puppy. Grandpa pointed to the sky and said, "See? The shiny band is the Milky Way. When the Queen Mother didn't want the Cowherd and the Weaving Maiden to meet, she pulled off the hairpin on her head and made this big river so wide that it couldn't see the edge of the river......." Later, when Jingjing grew up, his mom said she wanted him to go to school in the city, and he never saw his grandfather again. But mom and dad always fight, always fight. When they quarreled, mom always hit him, while crying, and he was scared. He didn't like this home and always missed his grandfather in the country. Just as poor little Wanka looks forward to Grandpa taking him home, so Jingjing looks forward to Grandpa coming to see him one day. What a nice letter this Wanka wrote! Jingjing hadn't written a letter to his grandfather yet, and he didn't know what he could write. He picked up the handout from the floor and picked out another paragraph to read down, "Dear Grandpa, when there's a Christmas tree with presents hanging from it in His Lordship's house, pick a golden walnut for me and collect it in my silk box. Ask Miss Olga Ignatievna for it, and say it is for Vanka. ...... "So, this Olga girl must have been quite close to Wanka? Jingjing used to have a good friend named Nier, who lived across the street from her grandfather's house. Nell had a pair of very dark eyes, and when she smiled, her eyes would squint with a sly look. She always led Jingjing to pick mulberry fruits to eat, she could climb the tree, her hands pulling and pulling, climbing fast, like a monkey. She had Jingjing hold the basket under the tree, and she sat on the tree and picked the mulberry fruits one by one and threw them into the basket. Then the two of them sat on the water dock by the river and dipped their feet in the water. Eating mulberry fruits so painfully that their lips and teeth were black and purple. Oh, what a nostalgic thing, so much like what Wanka wrote in his letter! Jingjing even imagined how Wanka must have felt when she wrote her letter, the anticipation, the hope, the eagerness. If the teacher allowed him to read a passage from the text, he would be able to do it well, for sure. He really wanted to read a passage out loud, with all his feelings, what a great story it was! He raised his head and looked in all directions. The forest was quiet, two small bees buzzing nearby. He gulped, held the handout in front of him, and finally read aloud from the beginning: "Three months ago the boy Vanka Zhukov, aged nine, was sent to be apprenticed to the shoemaker Aryashin ......" The voice was not very good, a little hoarse, a little scratchy. I'm not sure I'll be able to do it. But is a public teaching class a stage performance? People with bad voices can only hide in the woods to read his favorite text? Jingjing had a hard time in his heart. The next day after school, Ms. Cheng asked those designated six students to stay behind and each read their section of the text over and over again a few times. Because she had to prepare for the lesson, she went to the office first, saying that she would come back later to "pass". Jingjing just walked out of the classroom, the sound of reading from behind to catch up. Jingjing heart itchy, can not help but fold back again, lying in the classroom window outside to listen. The chubby Zhao Xiaozhen was reading the second paragraph. Her usual voice was crunchy and sweet, very nice. But as soon as she reads, the tone she reads out is always soft and milky, as if the letter writer is not the poor child Wanka, but a little girl who loves to be pampered. "Dear grandfather Konstantin Makarich ...... I have no father and no mother, and you are the only one left who is dear to me!" No, that's not true. Kyo listened, saying in his mind, not like that. Wanka was not a petulant little girl, he was only nine years old, alone in the city as an apprentice, not enough to eat, but also to be beaten, he was so sad, looking forward to his grandfather to save him, he was pleading, crying, never should have this kind of petulant accent. Zhao Xiaozhen was still reading down, as soft and milky as ever. "It's not like that!" Jingjing finally screamed out. The reading aloud in the room stopped at once, and all six people looked at him in surprise. "What did you say?" Zhao Xiaozhen asked in surprise. Jingjing was a bit embarrassed. Perhaps, he had misunderstood himself? He beeped, "It's not the right reading." "What ah!" Zhao Xiaozhen bristled, "You're not a teacher, how do you know we're not reading it right?" Right, only teachers are qualified to say that. If Mr. Cheng said, "It's not right." Then it's really wrong. What does what Jing Jing said count for? With a red face, Jing stubbornly muttered, "It's not right. It's not right." All the students in the room burst out laughing. Zhao Xiaozhen raised her voice and said, "Come on, the teacher won't let you read, so you say it's wrong. You're jealous." Jingjing was furious. How could one say that? Although it was quite hard on his heart, he didn't think of being jealous of others at all. He wasn't the kind of person who was careful. "Fine." He thought in his heart, "Whoever likes to read whatever they want, I don't care." He left the classroom in aggravation. When he walked far away, he could still hear Zhao Xiaozhen's laughter like a silver bell. On the day of the open class, the classroom was filled with chairs, and there were twenty to thirty teachers and students crammed into one classroom. Many students were so panicked that they didn't dare to look at the blackboard. Mr. Cheng was not afraid to open his textbook and start lecturing. First, she talked about Chekhov's life and achievements, and then picked out a few vocabulary words and phrases and taught them a few times. Then she said, "The following students please read the text with expression ......" According to the prior arrangement, of course, only Lin Rong raised her hand. The other students didn't even move. That gesture alone scared people silly! Who dares to pretend to be a good man? Lin Rong recited the first paragraph calmly. She read smoothly and clearly, and Mr. Cheng was so satisfied that he nodded his head repeatedly, smiling from ear to ear. After reading this paragraph, the teacher waved her hand and Lin Rong sat down. Next was Zhao Xiaozhen. However, after several seconds there was no movement. Jingjing felt strange and looked up towards Zhao Xiaozhen, her face was red and she was staring at the handout in front of her in a panic, the classmate next to her poked her with a hand crutch, but she refused to raise her eyes. She must have been so scared. Yes, so many teachers are watching, in case of panic, read stuttering, how embarrassing! In her heart, Jingjing felt a little pity for her. Ms. Cheng's face turned a little white. She coughed sternly, but Zhao Xiaozhen still didn't raise her hand. No one in the class raised their hands. It was agreed in advance! Jingjing squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. He really wanted to stand up. But if he raised his hand, would Mr. Cheng call out to him? Would Zhao Xiaozhen laugh at him after class? He really missed it. It wasn't that he wanted to be in the limelight, it was that there was a feeling in his heart that had been bottled up for a long time, and he wanted to read it out and spit it out painfully. He bit his lips tightly and solemnly raised his right hand, looking at Teacher Cheng with unblinking eyes. Teacher Cheng was a little flustered. Her eyes swept over the faces of the class, trying to encourage more people to raise their hands, but there was still only one Li Jingjing, this hoarse-voiced Li Jingjing. She had no choice but to say, "Li Jingjing, please take over and read." "Dear Grandpa Constantine Makarich!" Kyo Kyo read loudly and with emotion, "I'm writing to you. I wish you a merry Christmas and ask God to bless you ......" If he had really written to his grandfather, he would have been overjoyed, wouldn't he? Is Grandpa's water pipe still as bright and shiny? To whom is he now telling the story of the rich man and the long laborer? And Nell, the black-eyed, tree-climbing Nell, who was she sitting with eating mulberry fruit? He missed them so much that he would leave his home in the city and go back to his grandfather in the country, never to return. For the rest of his life! "'...... Dear grandfather, have mercy, take me away from here and go home to our village, I can't stand it any longer. ...... I'm on my knees to you, and I'll always pray to God for you, take me away from here. Pray to God, take me away from here ......' Wanka's mouth turned down at the corners, rubbed her eyes with the back of her dirty hand and sobbed." Two crystalline teardrops welled up from Kyung-kyung's eyes and fell on the handout in his hand with a "bah-tah" sound so loud that he startled himself. He immediately stopped reading aloud and looked around in panic. Fortunately, no one was laughing at him, and everyone looked so focused and serious. He was slightly relieved, and then he realized that he had already read Zhao Xiaozhen's paragraph, and had almost finished Zhou Hai's paragraph as well. He wanted to apologize to Mr. Cheng and ask for his forgiveness, but his heart was in such a terrible state that he couldn't say anything. This poor little "Wanka" had unknowingly taken his soul. God, whoever wrote that story had a knack for it! He sighed and sat down quietly. The classroom was silent, so quiet that he could hear Zhao Xiaozhen sobbing softly. After a while, Teacher Cheng came down from the podium and walked over to him, his voice trembling, "Li Jingjing, please ...... read the text all the way through." He stood up again, hoarsely, and read the moving story word by word and with emotion. He was thinking to himself, "When school is over, I must, I must hide in that little grove of trees and write a letter to my grandfather in the country, a long, long letter like the one Wanka wrote. At the end, I finished writing the address of my grandfather's house, I knew that address.
Adopted