八八年的秋风，已经带了点凉意。
高粱熟了，红彤彤的一大片，像火烧云落在了地上。
我叫王建军，那年三十。在镇上的砖窑厂上班，每天一身土，一身汗，回家累得像条狗。
那天收工，抄了条近路，从高粱地边上过。
天色擦黑，地里头的风刮得“沙沙”响，跟有人在里头说话一样。
我本来没在意，我们这儿的人，胆子都让穷日子给撑大了，啥也不怕。
可走了没几步，那“沙沙”声里，好像夹了点别的动静。
很轻，像小猫叫。
断断续续的。
我停下脚，侧着耳朵听。
没错，就是个动静，细细的，弱弱的，带着哭腔。
我心里咯噔一下。
这年头，地里头能有啥？黄鼠狼？还是谁家跑丢的猫？
可那声音，越听越不对劲。
它带着一种……人的味儿。
我喉咙有点发干，冲着地里头喊了一嗓子：“谁啊？”
没人应。
只有高粱秆子被风吹得晃来晃去。
那哭声也停了。
我心里直发毛，拔腿就想走。多一事不如少一事，老辈人说的，总没错。
可脚下跟生了根似的，就是迈不动。
那哭声又响起来了，比刚才还弱，好像随时都会断气。
我这人，在部队里待过几年，性子有点犟，也有点直。见不得这种事。
他娘的。
我心里骂了一句，一咬牙，扒开比人还高的高粱秆子，钻了进去。
地里头又闷又热，高粱叶子划在脸上，有点疼。
我循着声音，深一脚浅一脚地往前走。
走了大致十几米，脚下踢到了一个软乎乎的东西。
我低头一看，是个破旧的蓝布包袱。
哭声，就是从这里头传出来的。
我的心跳得跟擂鼓一样，蹲下身，手哆哆嗦嗦地解开那个布包袱。
一层，又一层。
解开最后一层，我整个人都愣住了。
是个孩子。
一个刚出生没多久的娃，小脸皱巴巴的，像个红皮猴子，闭着眼，嘴巴一张一合，发出那种要命的哭声。
包袱里，还有一张纸条，压着十块钱和几张粮票。
纸条上的字写得歪歪扭扭：生于八八年八月十五，养不活，求好心人给条活路。
八月十五，中秋节。
团圆的日子，这孩子却被扔在了这里。
我抱着那个小小的、软软的身体，一股说不出的滋味涌上心头。是愤怒，是可怜，还有一种奇怪的……责任感。
风还在吹，高粱地像一片无边无际的红色海洋。
我就那么抱着她，站了很久。
我知道，从我把她抱起来的那一刻起，我这辈子，就跟这片高粱地，跟这个孩子，分不开了。
我把孩子揣进怀里，那点温度，好像能烫着我的心。
回家的路，突然变得特别长。
我媳妇叫林慧，在村里的小学当民办教师。我们结婚五年了，肚子一直没动静。
为这事，我妈没少当着我媳妇的面，指桑骂槐。
林慧人好，心善，就是性子软，每次都自己偷偷抹眼泪。
我推开家门的时候，她正在灯下备课。
昏黄的灯光照着她清秀的脸，显得有点憔 ઉ 悴。
她看见我，先是笑了笑：“回来了？”
然后，她的目光落在了我怀里。
笑容僵在了脸上。
“建军，你……你这是抱的啥？”
我把孩子抱出来，放在炕上，把那张纸条和钱、粮票也一并放在旁边。
我没说话，我知道这事，说啥都没用。
林慧的脸，一瞬间就白了。
她盯着那孩子，又看看我，嘴唇哆嗦着，半天说不出一句话。
“哪来的？”她终于开口，声音都变了调。
“高粱地里，捡的。”我声音很低，像做错了事的孩子。
“捡的？”林慧的声音一下子高了八度，“王建军！你跟我说实话！这到底是谁的孩子！”
她的眼睛里，全是泪水和不信。
我知道她想哪儿去了。
这事搁谁身上，谁都得这么想。
我心里又急又气，也吼了起来：“我说了是捡的！你当我是什么人！”
屋子里的空气，一下子就凝固了。
炕上的孩子好像被吓到了，突然“哇”的一声，大哭起来。
那哭声，像一根针，扎在我们俩心上。
林慧的眼泪，唰地一下就流下来了。
她没再跟我吵，走过去，手忙脚乱地抱起孩子，笨拙地哄着。
“不哭，不哭……”
孩子在她怀里，哭声渐渐小了。
她就那么抱着，眼泪一滴一滴，掉在孩子的包被上。
我知道，她心里那块最软的地方，被触动了。
那天晚上，我俩谁也没睡。
林ina Hui kept holding the baby, feeding her some warm water with a spoon. The baby was so small, she barely knew how to suck.
“What are we going to do?” she asked me, her voice hoarse from crying.
I looked at the child's face under the dim light. So small, so fragile. If we sent her away, could she even survive?
“Let's keep her,” I said, my voice firm.
Lin Hui's body trembled. “Keep her? How? We don't have a permit, we'll be fined! What will people say? They'll say… they'll say she's yours…”
“Let them talk! I don't care! I can't just throw her back, that's a human life!”
“But Jianjun…”
“No buts,” I cut her off. “I've decided. We'll raise her. I'll take care of everything.”
Lin Hui looked at me, then at the baby in her arms. She didn't say anything else.
She just held the baby tighter.
The next day, the news spread through the village like wildfire.
Wang Jianjun picked up a baby girl in the sorghum field.
My mother rushed over first thing in the morning, her walking stick thumping on the ground.
She stormed in, her sharp eyes scanning the room, and finally landed on the baby Lin Hui was holding.
“You worthless thing!” she pointed her stick at me, her hand shaking. “Tell me! Which vixen did you have this with? You're trying to ruin our family's reputation!”
“Mom! It's not like that! I really picked her up!” I felt a headache coming on.
“Picked her up? Who are you kidding? Why didn't someone else pick her up? Why you? The world is full of people, why did this 'good thing' fall on your head?”
My mom's voice was sharp and piercing, attracting a crowd of neighbors outside our door, all craning their necks to peek inside.
Lin Hui's face was pale, she just lowered her head and protected the baby, not daring to make a sound.
I was furious. “Enough! If you believe it, you believe it. If you don't, then don't! Anyway, I'm keeping this child!”
“You dare!” My mom slammed her stick on the ground. “Our family can't afford to be disgraced like this! Send her away! To the village committee, to the police station, anywhere but here!”
Just then, the baby started crying again, her voice weak and pitiful.
My mom's cursing stopped abruptly.
She stared at the baby, her stern face twitching slightly.
“She's hungry,” Lin Hui whispered.
My mom hesitated for a moment, then grumbled, “Hungry? What's the use of crying? Crying won't fill your stomach.”
Although she said that, she turned around and went into the kitchen. A moment later, she came out with a bowl of cornmeal mush, which was still steaming.
“Here. Feed her. Don't let her starve to death in our house, that would be bad luck.”
She put the bowl down heavily and walked out without looking back.
Watching her retreating figure, I knew.
This matter was half-settled.
Raising a child is much harder than you think.
Especially in those days.
Milk powder was a luxury. We could only feed her rice paste and cornmeal mush. The baby was weak and often got sick.
In the middle of the night, if she had a fever, Lin Hui and I would take turns holding her, our hearts in our throats, not daring to close our eyes all night.
For her household registration, I ran my legs off.
I went to the village head, Uncle Li. He smoked his pipe, squinted at me for a long time, and said, “Jianjun, this is tricky. The family planning policy is strict now. You bring back a child of unknown origin, if the higher-ups investigate, I'll be in trouble too.”
I pleaded, I begged, I brought him two bottles of cheap liquor I had saved.
Finally, he sighed. “Alright, alright. I'll report it as an abandoned baby picked up by the village. But you'll have to pay the fine. It won't be a small amount.”
The fine was two hundred yuan.
Two hundred yuan! In 1988, that was my salary for almost half a year at the brick kiln.
Lin Hui and I scraped together all our savings, borrowed some from relatives, and finally managed to pay the fine.
On the day we got the household registration booklet, the baby officially had a name.
Wang Shu.
The “Shu” from sorghum.
I wanted her to remember where she came from.
With a name, and a home, Shu slowly grew up.
She was a quiet and well-behaved child. Her eyes were big and dark, like two black grapes. When she looked at you, it felt like she could see right into your heart.
She rarely cried or made a fuss. When other kids were fighting over candy, she would just stand aside and watch quietly.
Lin Hui loved her to pieces. She was a teacher, so she taught Shu to read and write very early on.
I worked even harder at the brick kiln. Every day, I was covered in dust, but when I thought of Shu's smiling face when I got home, I felt like all the hard work was worth it.
Our family of three, although we were poor, we were happy.
But the gossip in the village never stopped.
Some people said Shu was my illegitimate daughter.
Some said Lin Hui couldn't have children, so we bought one from human traffickers.
The words were ugly and hurtful.
When Shu started elementary school, some naughty kids would point at her and shout, “Wild child! Picked from the ground!”
Shu would just stand there, biting her lip, her face pale, not saying a word.
Every time this happened, my heart ached as if it was being stabbed.
I found the parents of those kids and had a big fight.
After that, no one dared to bully Shu in front of me.
But I knew, I couldn't protect her forever.
The question of her origin was like a thorn, deeply embedded in our lives.
One evening, when Shu was in third grade, she came home from school and sat at the table without saying a word.
“What's wrong, Shu?” Lin Hui asked gently, stroking her hair.
Shu suddenly looked up, her eyes red. “Mom, am I really picked up?”
The air in the room froze.
Lin Hui and I looked at each other, our hearts sinking.
This day had finally come.
I took a deep breath, sat down next to Shu, and held her small hand.
“Yes, Shu. Dad picked you up from a sorghum field.”
I decided to tell her the truth. Lying would only hurt her more.
“The day Dad found you, the sorghum was red and beautiful. You were so small, sleeping in a blue cloth wrapper…”
I told her everything, from how I found her to how we raised her.
Shu listened quietly, tears streaming down her face.
“So… I don't have a real mom and dad?” she asked, her voice trembling.
Lin Hui couldn't hold back anymore. She hugged Shu tightly, crying. “Silly girl, we are your real mom and dad! The ones who raise you are your real parents!”
I hugged them both, my wife and my daughter.
“Shu, remember this,” I said, my voice choked with emotion. “It doesn't matter who gave birth to you. What matters is that Dad and Mom love you. This will always be your home.”
That night, Shu cried for a long time in Lin Hui's arms.
After she cried it all out, she seemed to grow up overnight.
She became even more sensible, studied harder, and helped with the housework.
She never mentioned her birth parents again.
But I knew, that question was buried deep in her heart, like a seed. No one knew when it would sprout.
Time flew by.
In the blink of an eye, Shu was in junior high.
She grew into a slender and graceful young lady, looking more and more like Lin Hui. She was the top student in her class, the pride of our family.
The villagers' gossip gradually subsided. They all said that the Wang family was lucky to have picked up such a promising child.
Our lives were getting better too. I became a team leader at the brick kiln, and Lin Hui became a regular teacher. We saved up some money and built a new brick house.
Everything seemed to be moving in a good direction.
I thought our lives would continue like this, peacefully and happily.
But fate, it seems, always likes to play tricks on people.
The year Shu was preparing for her high school entrance exam, two uninvited guests came to our village.
It was a summer afternoon.
A black car, a brand I had never seen before, drove into our village, stirring up a cloud of dust and the curiosity of the entire village.
The car stopped in front of our house.
A man and a woman in their forties, dressed stylishly, got out of the car. They looked completely out of place in our dusty village.
They said they were looking for Wang Jianjun.
My heart skipped a beat. I had a bad feeling.
I invited them into the house. Lin Hui poured them water.
The woman's eyes kept darting around, sizing up our simple home, and finally rested on a photo of Shu on the wall.
Her eyes instantly turned red.
“Is this… is this the child?” she asked, her voice trembling.
The man next to her, who looked like a cadre, cleared his throat. “Comrade Wang, let us introduce ourselves. My name is Zhao Weiguo, and this is my wife, Chen Jing. We are from the provincial capital.”
He paused, then took a deep breath.
“We… we are Shu's biological parents.”
Boom.
It was like a bolt of lightning struck my head.
My mind went blank.
Lin Hui's hand trembled, and the teacup she was holding fell to the ground, shattering into pieces.
Shu was at school, she didn't know anything yet.
Chen Jing started to cry. “It was our fault. We were still in college back then… we were scared. We had no choice but to… leave her. For all these years, we've been thinking about her every day. We've been looking for her for a long time. We finally found out that she was adopted by you.”
Zhao Weiguo took out a handkerchief and handed it to her. He looked at us with a complicated expression. “We know we have wronged you and the child. We are incredibly grateful to you for raising her. We… we want to take her back.”
Take her back.
These three words were like three sharp knives, stabbing fiercely into my heart.
“No way!” I stood up abruptly, my voice hoarse. “Shu is my daughter! She has nothing to do with you!”
“Comrade Wang, please calm down,” Zhao Weiguo said, trying to placate me. “We know this is sudden. But we can give her a better life. We can let her go to the best high school in the provincial capital, go to college, go abroad. Her future will be limitless. Staying here… what future does she have?”
His words hit my sore spot.
Yes, what future could I give Shu?
I was just a worker at a brick kiln. Lin Hui was just a village teacher.
We could only provide her with the most basic food and clothing.
We couldn't give her the superior life they described.
“We won't let you suffer a loss,” Zhao Weiguo continued, taking out a bankbook from his bag. “There's fifty thousand yuan in here. It's a small token of our appreciation for you raising Shu all these years. If it's not enough, we can add more.”
Fifty thousand yuan!
In that era, it was an astronomical figure.
It was enough to build several houses like mine.
But in my eyes, it was a huge insult.
“Get out!” I pointed to the door, my whole body shaking with anger. “Get out of my house with your stinking money! Shu is not for sale!”
Lin Hui was already crying uncontrollably, slumped in her chair.
Zhao Weiguo and Chen Jing looked at each other, their faces filled with helplessness and anxiety.
“Jianjun! What's going on? Who are these people?” My mother's voice came from the doorway. The commotion had drawn her over.
Before I could explain, Chen Jing rushed to my mother and knelt down with a thud.
“Auntie! I'm Shu's mother! I beg you, let us take her back! I'll kowtow to you!”
The whole yard was in chaos.
The neighbors were all gathered around, pointing and whispering.
My head felt like it was about to explode.
Just then, a clear voice cut through the noise.
“What are you all doing at my house?”
It was Shu. She was back from school.
She stood at the gate, holding her schoolbag, looking at the scene in the yard with a bewildered expression.
Everyone fell silent.
All eyes were on her.
Chen Jing looked at the young girl standing in the sunlight, her face a mixture of excitement, guilt, and sorrow.
“Shu… my child…” she murmured, tears streaming down her face.
Shu was stunned. She looked at the crying woman on the ground, then at her pale-faced parents, and seemed to understand something.
Her body swayed, and she almost fell.
“Shu!” Lin Hui and I rushed over at the same time and held her.
“Dad, Mom… who are they?” Shu's voice was trembling, filled with fear.
I gritted my teeth, not knowing how to answer.
Zhao Weiguo walked over. He tried to make his voice as gentle as possible. “Child, we are your biological parents. We've come to take you home.”
Shu's face turned completely white.
She stared blankly at the two strangers in front of her.
Then she looked at me and Lin Hui.
Suddenly, she broke free from our arms, turned around, and ran into her room, slamming the door shut.
The days that followed were like a nightmare.
Shu locked herself in her room, refusing to eat, drink, or talk to anyone.
Lin Hui and I took turns guarding the door, our hearts breaking as we listened to her silent sobs inside.
The Zhao couple didn't leave. They stayed at the guesthouse in the town and came to our house every day.
They brought all kinds of expensive gifts, clothes, snacks, things we had never seen before.
They stood outside Shu's door, telling her about the world outside, about their beautiful house in the city, about the future they had planned for her.
Their words were like sugar-coated poison, tempting and cruel.
The whole village was talking about it.
Some said Shu should go with them. It was a chance to escape this poor village and become a city person.
Some said she shouldn't. The Wang couple had raised her for over ten years, how could she be so heartless?
My mother sat on the threshold all day, sighing. She didn't scold me anymore. She just looked at Shu's closed door, her eyes full of worry.
I felt like I was being roasted over a fire.
One night, I couldn't take it anymore. I drank half a bottle of baijiu and staggered to Shu's door.
“Shu! Open the door! Talk to Dad!” I slammed on the door panel.
“Are you going with them? Huh? You think Dad and Mom are poor, that we can't give you a good life, right?”
“We raised you from a baby! Your mom stayed up all night when you had a fever! I worked my ass off at the brick kiln to pay for your school fees! Have we treated you badly?”
“You can leave! Go find your rich parents! Don't ever call me Dad again!”
I was drunk and saying things I didn't mean.
Lin Hui pulled me back, crying. “Jianjun, stop it! You're scaring the child!”
The door suddenly opened.
Shu stood there, her face tear-stained, her eyes red and swollen.
She looked at me, then at Lin Hui.
“Dad, Mom,” she said, her voice hoarse and weak.
“I'm not leaving.”
“I'm not going anywhere.”
“This is my home.”
At that moment, all my anger, all my anxiety, all my fear, turned into tears.
I, a grown man who had never shed a tear even when I was discharged from the army, hugged my daughter and cried like a child.
The next day, Shu agreed to meet the Zhao couple.
Right in our yard.
I stood with Lin Hui, my hands clenched into fists, my heart in my throat.
The Zhao couple looked at Shu with anticipation and nervousness.
Shu was very calm. She bowed deeply to them.
“Uncle, Auntie,” she said, her voice clear and steady. “Thank you for giving me life.”
Chen Jing's eyes lit up. “Shu, you…”
Shu continued, “But I'm sorry. I can't go with you.”
The light in Chen Jing's eyes dimmed. “Why? Child, we can give you the best of everything…”
“I know,” Shu interrupted her. “But what I want, you can't give me.”
“My home is here. My parents are here.”
She turned and walked to our side, holding my hand and Lin Hui's hand tightly.
“They are the ones who picked me up from the cold sorghum field. They are the ones who fed me spoonful by spoonful. They are the ones who held my hand and taught me how to walk. They are the ones who stayed up all night when I was sick. They are my dad and mom.”
Shu's voice was not loud, but every word was powerful.
“You gave me life, but they gave me a life.”
“The debt of birth has been repaid with this bow. The debt of raising me, I will spend my whole life repaying.”
Zhao Weiguo and Chen Jing were speechless.
Their faces were filled with pain and regret.
Finally, Zhao Weiguo let out a long sigh. “We understand.”
He took out that bankbook again. “Child, take this money. Consider it… our support for your education.”
Shu shook her head. “No. My dad can support me.”
She looked at me, her eyes full of trust and pride.
My eyes welled up again.
Yes, my daughter. Dad can support you. Even if I have to break my back, I will support you.
The Zhao couple left.
The black car drove away, leaving a trail of dust, just like when it came.
It took a piece of the past with it, and also left behind a scar that could never be erased.
Life returned to normal.
Shu did extremely well in her high school entrance exam and got into the best high school in the county.
Three years later, she was admitted to a key university in the provincial capital.
She was the first college student in our village in years.
On the day she left for college, the whole village came to see her off.
I carried her luggage, and Lin Hui kept nagging her to take care of herself.
At the entrance of the village, Shu turned around and looked at the familiar houses and the villagers.
Her eyes fell on the vast fields outside the village.
The sorghum was red again.
It was the same season as when I found her.
She walked over, broke off a stalk of sorghum, and held it in her hand.
She looked at me and smiled, her eyes shining like stars. “Dad, I'm leaving.”
“Go on,” I said, my voice choked. “Remember to come home often.”
She nodded, turned around, and got on the bus.
Watching the bus disappear into the distance, Lin Hui finally couldn't hold back her tears.
I put my arm around her shoulder.
“He's crying again. The child is going to college, it's a good thing.”
But my own vision was blurry.
Shu was like a bird that had grown its wings. She had flown out of our small village to a wider world.
I was proud of her, but also reluctant to let her go.
This child, whom I had picked up from the sorghum field, had unknowingly become the center of my life.
Many years have passed since then.
Shu graduated from college and became a doctor. She stayed in the provincial capital to work.
She wanted us to move to the city to live with her, but Lin Hui and I were used to living in the countryside and declined.
She would come back to see us whenever she had time. Every time she came back, she would bring lots of things for us and the neighbors.
She never married.
I asked her why once.
She just smiled and said, “I haven't met the right one.”
But I knew, the events of that year had left a shadow in her heart. She was afraid of marriage, afraid of having children, afraid of repeating her parents' tragedy.
This became a constant worry for me and Lin Hui.
The Zhao couple contacted Shu a few times after she went to college.
They wanted to make up for their past mistakes. They bought her a house and a car, but Shu refused them all.
She only accepted one thing: she asked them to set up a foundation to help poor students in our county.
Zhao Weiguo agreed without hesitation.
Perhaps, this was the best outcome for everyone.
Now, I'm old. My back is stooped, and my hair is gray.
Lin Hui retired long ago. We now have a grandson, as Shu finally got married a few years ago to a colleague who loved her very much.
I often sit at the entrance of the village, looking at the fields.
The sorghum is planted year after year, turning green and then red, red and then harvested.
I often think back to that evening in 1988.
The setting sun, the rustling sorghum field, and the faint cry of a baby.
If I had been a little more cowardly, a little more indifferent, and just walked away, what would my life be like now?
Maybe I would still be a worker at the brick kiln, living a mundane life with Lin Hui, arguing over trivial matters, and growing old in mediocrity.
But because I took that one step, because I walked into that sorghum field, my life was completely changed.
I had a daughter.
I experienced the joys and sorrows of being a father.
I learned what responsibility is, and what love is.
Shu changed me. She made my incomplete life whole.
She is the best gift God has ever given me.
Someone once asked me if I regretted it.
Regretted what?
Regretted picking up a “burden”?
I just laughed.
My whole life, I've been an ordinary man. I haven't done anything earth-shattering.
But there is one thing I am proud of.
That day, in that sorghum field, I did not turn away.
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