At that time, I was in my youth

That year, I was 25 years old and just entered the doctoral class. While studying my degree, I had already published my first collection of novels, "The Sea Water is Blue", and because of the unpredictable best-selling situation, it attracted attention. I was very comfortable in the classical world and the college life. There I was a small peach blossom land where I could circle and read quietly, hide myself, and when I met a clever word and sentence, I could admire and play for a long time and get a lot of joy. I didn't know where to see the words that describe a man's "majestic body". I thought about it hard, what kind of image it was? Our Chinese professors are gentle and elegant, elegant, and arrogant, but they are all unnamed. I seem to have an understanding of majestic in my heart, but it is difficult to describe it.

After the winter vacation, I met a university professor who was tall and strong, calm and smiling, teaching us poetry. Because he used to be from the Department of Physical Education, he looked different from the Chinese department. Every weekend, we had to go to the teacher's house to attend classes, and everyone gathered around the dining table, not eating, but explained a poem or a poem. Seeing him laughing loudly and spitting smoke, I quietly thought, this is a great man, right? The 40-year-old teacher was very active in the academic world at that time, with a dazzling spirit and a dazzling edge. He took his class, but never stopped watching him and his family with great interest.

He has a wife who also teaches in college, two sons. When our course is about to end, the teacher's wife and his youngest son will sometimes enter the door together. The teacher's wife carries some daily necessities or food, and the little boy is about 10 years old, carrying a primary school student's shoulder straps and schoolbag, taking off his shoes, staring at us with curious eyes, not afraid of life. The teacher will stop the course being explained, look at them, and sometimes talk for a few words, and there is inadvertent attachment in the words and eyes. I gradually understand that the teacher is like a bank of green willows and weeping willows. He gently hugs his wife and son in his smile, and bends with two boats, one big and one small, so he is a great man.

When we said goodbye, there was a boiler in the teacher's kitchen, and dinner gradually started to start. We scattered and walked under the viaduct, heading towards the bus stop sign. A little tiredness and a lot of longings, I suddenly thought about my future, would there be such a warm family? A kind of intimate feeling of dining around the table? A little boy with a backpack? As it got dark, the stars crawled into the sky.

After completing my doctorate degree, I invited a group of friends to visit Shenzhou for nearly a month. When I returned to Taipei, I became lazy. It rained before school started, and autumn suddenly came. My classmates called and told me that my teacher's wife who was suffering from cancer had passed away. Everyone was going to the public memorial service together. They wanted to make sure I had returned.

For some reason, I always thought that the teacher's wife would recover. She was still young and had a loving husband; and her son who could act spoiled, she should be better.

That day, I went very early, from beginning to end, thinking maybe I could help. But, what can I do? During the farewell ceremony, Fei Yuqing's bellowing in the loudspeaker was playing in the megaphone: "Sister, sister, let go of my hand, I can't go with you..." I raised my head in surprise, and passed many people, and saw the little boy kneeling on the ground. At that time, he was actually a junior high school student. Because of his loss of his mother, he looked very thin.

I had the impulse to go over, walked to him, looked at his dark eyes, and said a few words of comfort. But finally, it didn't, because I didn't know what to say, and I couldn't help myself when I saw his tears.

There are really many surprises in life, but at that time, I still naively thought that I had obtained a degree and had a full-time teaching position. Someone introduced me to a PhD in the United States as my partner. As long as I have enough patience and hard work, I can get happiness. I also thought that the ups and downs of this family should end here, and that the extremes should come.

A year later, I was trapped in a strong storm caused by emotions, facing difficult choices at work, and suddenly heard that the teacher had a stroke in his brainstem and was in a critical condition. When I went to the hospital to visit, the teacher had already entered the general ward from the ICU. I heard that his consciousness was clear, and that his once majestic body fell on the bed and was completely unable to do so. What should I do with that family? What should I do with those two boys? My friend who went there tried to talk to the teacher, but I closed my lips and didn't say anything. I just wanted to ask the heaven, what kind of will is this? Isn't it said that there is no way for heaven to be alone? What is this?

When the teacher moved from the Third General Officer to the Rong, I went to visit him. That day he was learning to sound. The 50-year-old teacher should be at the age of showing off his best in the academic world; he should be chanting the sound of beautiful poems, and was trying hard to capture: Oh, ah, ah... sweating heavily, panting, the caregiver optimistically said that the teacher was very proud, and we had to clap the teacher. After leaving the hospital, my tears suddenly fell, and I cried all the way along the green road. What a ridiculous and cruel life.

At the same time, the wounds born on me did not stop. I always had to spend a lot of effort to deal with my depression. Since then, I have never visited the teacher again, but only visited the teacher from some people who are close to the teacher. The teacher was discharged from the hospital, went home to recuperate, sold his original house, and moved to a quiet place. Occasionally, I would pass the viaduct, and I would still turn my head and look in that direction over the years, with a hint of melancholy and sadness. There is a secret story of my youth.

Later, I met Youth suddenly

This year, I have been in full-time in college for the eleventh year and are about to enter the age of 40. Life suddenly became busy, radio, television and overwhelmed speeches, but I tried not to let other chores affect teaching, and always walked into the classroom with a happy mood and faced those waiting eyes. Especially the general courses offered for law and business students, on many life-related issues, I always look forward to bringing myself or them to an unexpected place.

Every year, due to the different student combinations, the atmosphere of class is also different. If there are a few students who are particularly lively and fully interactive, they will burst into wonderful sparks. Sometimes when they meet quiet but willing to think deeply, their opinions challenge my values ​​and cognition, which is also very satisfying. In a semester of class, I dare not expect any impact on students. As long as they can provide opportunities to make them realize themselves, it is enough.

This semester, a few students had a focused look in their eyes when listening to the stories I told. There was a boy from the Department of Economics who was particularly supportive. Even if the jokes I told were not funny, he must have smiled very enthusiastically, and therefore, when he did not attend, the class seemed a little lonely. Usually, students who were involved would speak enthusiastically during discussions, but this boy almost never said anything. When it was time to laugh, he nodded vigorously when it was time to nod, but he just didn't say anything. Maybe it was because he was not good at speaking. When it was his turn to report on stage, he came from Yu Qiuyu.

"Cultural Journey" talks about the magnificent mountains and rivers of the Motherland 6, and there is no need to be a lecture or outline. It is not like a student in a business school, but more like a Chinese department. I sat down in the audience and looked up at him. It turned out to be such a tall boy. He clearly had a youthful face, and when he reported fluently, he seemed to have an old soul, faintly showing a shallow vicissitudes. He spoke on the stage, his radiant and confident expression, which was extremely different from the sudden laughter from the audience. When he finished the report, applause came everywhere, and even I couldn't help but clapping for him.

When winter comes and the general education class is over, I walk back and forth in the classroom, watching the students write quickly on the final exam papers. One by one, I hand over the exam papers to the podium, and I can read their grades from those smiling or frowning faces.

He walked out of the classroom with a stack of test papers, and the boy from the Department of Economics was waiting at the door: "Teacher," he called me, "Can you waste some time?"

I stopped and told him that there was only a little time because I was rushing to the radio station. The live show and pre-recording every Friday made me a little anxious.

OK. He smiled, looking very nervous, ready to escape at any time, "I just want to ask if you still remember a teacher..." He said a name. Suddenly a name was said, and I felt dizzy. The memory blocked by smoke and dust disappeared, and the fog was gone, and the smiling teacher suddenly walked to me with great clarity. Of course, I remember that even though I no longer remembered it for many years, I cannot forget it.

You are... I looked up at him, looking at the black glasses behind his lenses, and tears were so precarious.

When the dusk falls into the teaching building, it will be dark, and then the stars will light up. Once, it was the time for dinner to open the table, but now we meet in a crowded corridor full of life. More than ten years later, he finished his fifth degree, served in the military, and entered the university. He took this course specially and met me. The little boy I had missed was 24 years old. In my youth, I was at the age of his mother. Youth never faded, but just migrated from me to him.

Later, I heard him talk about the past when I saw me at home, and I was hanging down my old days purely. At that time, we never said a word, but he thought if he could talk to this sister. I heard him talk about the years of accidents and the desolation of living under someone else's roof. My father was hospitalized for a whole year. After dark, how reluctant he was to go home and return to his empty home. I listened attentively, but I didn't expect that soon after, my father was hospitalized in an emergency and his mother
Chapter completed!