Essay on Worker Ji Guowei's Prose

Ji Guowei, a native of Dali, Yunnan, was my workmate when I worked in a leather factory.

The first time I saw Ji Guowei, I was in the clearing next to the gate of ministry of materials and equipment. He stood in front of everyone with a red face and introduced himself in a low voice. I heard that he was from Dali, Yunnan, and I suddenly thought of Jin Yong's novel "Eight Dragons". Duan Yu, handsome and kind, seems to be smiling at me under the wall not far away. The scene of swords and shadows in the TV series Mufu Fengyun clearly emerged in front of my eyes. The song "Pure Land" sounded in that mysterious and ancient land, like strong and fragrant old wine, which made people a little intoxicated. At that moment, Ji Guowei's name was engraved in my mind. His dark face reminds me of my brothers and sisters in my hometown in Guizhou. He is so familiar and kind that I will never forget him!

I am the warehouse keeper of the fabric warehouse on the second floor, and Ji Guowei works in the warehouse on the first floor. Usually busy with work, there is no chance to chat at all. The warehouse is very hard. Every morning, the master takes Ji Guowei to move materials. The removed materials are neatly stacked on the tray, layer by layer, as high as a hill. On the long and narrow aisle, two figures were swaying: the master bent down to pull the trailer in front, and Ji Guowei pushed the materials behind. The tray rattled from time to time, leaving several marks on the ground where the wheel slipped. The sweat on Ji Guowei's face came out, and he dared not make a move to wipe it. Sweat rolled down and fell on the blue overalls, and a small piece of his chest was soaked. After all the hard work of receiving, sending, sending, moving and lifting, Ji Guowei will follow the master to open the machine and connect the bits and pieces of the underlying materials. The bottom material under the machine, as well as their youth and dreams, will never stop as the scroll slowly rotates!

Ji Guowei returned to the dormitory very late after working overtime at the bottom warehouse, and his face was full of fatigue. He carried the red bucket, crossed the narrow corridor, went to the boiler room to turn on the water for a bath, and then squatted on the wet floor of the bathroom to wash his work clothes. At this time, some workers who went to bed early have begun to snore loudly, and the noisy city has entered a sweet dream. Ji Guowei likes to read books in the library next to the canteen on nights when he doesn't work overtime. He changed into a red uniform, like a different person, looking fresh and proud. He walked into the library and smiled at me a little shyly. Ji Guowei found a novel on the shelf, sat stiffly on the wooden stool, put the novel on his knee and pointed it word for word with his little finger. He read slowly, and it took him a long time to turn the page, with saliva on his fingers. After reading the wonderful chapter, his left hand clenched his fist and tapped his knee. The movement was light, and his eyes sparkled with expectation.

When the library was closing, Ji Guowei closed the novel, wiped the cover and put it back on the shelf, and reluctantly left. I followed him and said, "Come and see. You can read a few pages on your pillow every night. " He turned around, shook it a few times, sighed and said helplessly, "No, there is no time to read such a wonderful novel, and others have no chance to read it. What a pity!" It would be nice to work less overtime in the factory, so that I can study more. "When the boss receives the order, he will arrange for the workers to catch the goods, regardless of white or black. What he cares about is profit, and he doesn't care about the hardships and pains of workers. Moreover, in order to earn more money, you have to work more classes, and you have to bite the bullet when you are tired. In the long and hard years of wandering, working, eating and sleeping are the lives of migrant workers at the bottom, and reading is sometimes an unattainable luxury!

I have been working in the fabric warehouse. This warehouse rarely works overtime. When I have time, I lie on the iron bed in the dormitory and piece together some words. I am a very stupid person, I can't learn to fight landlords, and I have no hobbies. I can only spend a long and lonely time by reading and writing. I write almost every day. After a long time, my pillow is full of manuscripts. On weekends, I got up and squatted at the door of the dormitory, leafing through the pile of written manuscripts. I think of my mother in my hometown. After the autumn harvest every year, when she is busy with her work at hand, she will sit at the door and squint at the soybean seeds one by one, her eyes full of hope and happiness. Like my mother, I choose a manuscript. If I am satisfied, I will stay and change it and send it to the magazine. The reader's heart is a garden. I hope my simple and plain words can fall into the hearts of readers, bloom elegant flowers and make their world more fragrant. And those withered words, I will tear my heart out, although it is the meat falling from my body, but I don't feel bad at all. It was a winter morning, and a ray of sunshine was scattered on the corridor through the clouds, bringing warmth to this cold world. I crouched in front of the dormitory to select manuscripts as before. I was just about to tear up a dozen pages when Ji Guowei came out of the dormitory next door. Feeling a little curious, he lowered his head and asked, "Master Liu, what are you doing?" Ji Guowei is warm and reasonable to people. Workers who enter the factory before him are called masters.

I said in detail, "I wrote something when I was bored." I feel dissatisfied and want to tear it up. "

"This is your hard work. It's a pity to tear it. Let me see. " As he spoke, he wiped his hands on his clothes and reached for it. He regarded the manuscript as a treasure, held it in his arms and looked pious. I didn't have much contact with Ji Guowei, but he just moved me with caution. I plunged into the dormitory and handed the manuscript to him under the pillow. He is a reliable man, and I have no reason not to worry about giving him the manuscript.

That morning, Ji Guowei didn't go out. He had been sitting on the iron bed reading my manuscript. He returned the manuscript to me ten minutes before lunch. I sat in the dining hall with him, chatting while eating. It was the first time that we sat together and talked about literature. He said affectionately, "My father is a retired worker. He likes reading books and newspapers all his life, and I like reading as much as my father. I have written poems and novels, and I have no time to write after going out to work. I have read it carefully. Your fortune-telling is an excellent novel with vivid characters and true plot. If you treat me as a brother, you can show me the manuscript, and I am the first reader who is willing to make a fuss. " I nodded and he smiled, with a simple smile on his dark face. I went back to the dormitory to read the manuscript returned by Ji Guowei, changed a few punctuation marks, marked the typos in the article, and put forward some suggestions at the end of the article. I touched his handwriting with my hand. I revised the suggestion, thinking of his big hand holding the materials, and his eyes were wet.

I lay prone on the iron bed and copied the manuscripts of Kyrgyzstan's maintenance and reform one by one. He came to my bed gently and brought a few Jin of walnuts. Those walnuts were brought by his brother from his hometown thousands of miles away, and he has been reluctant to eat them. He locked walnuts in the suitcase under the bed and held them in his hand when he was homesick. Every time he looks at the walnuts brought by his younger brother, he will think of his parents and sisters in his hometown. But Ji Guowei actually gave me walnuts that he could not bear to eat. He said earnestly and sincerely, "Eat some walnuts to replenish your brain. This kind of walnut has a thin skin. When you pinch the shell with your hands, it will crack and smell delicious. Literature is your dream. You have written a satisfactory work, and I am happier than anyone else! " I watched him walk out of the dormitory, and then touched the several catties of walnuts. I don't know why, the warm current flows along my fingertips to my heart, and from my heart to every corner of my body. I clenched the pen in my hand, rubbed my hazy tears, and then grabbed the novel Fortune Telling. I feel as if I have grown a force in my heart and copied some novels on my stomach. I'm not tired at all! I sent the novel to Hebei College of Contemporary Literature, and received the award certificate from the College of Literature two months later. That night, I went to the store to buy a few bottles of beer, weighed half a catty of boiled peanuts and chatted with Ji Guowei in the corridor outside the dormitory. We not only talked about literature, but also talked about work and life, and finally talked about life planning. The light was so dim, but the picture that night was so warm. In the hard and helpless years of work, every time I think of the night I talked with Ji Guowei in the corridor, my heart will light up and the road under my feet will get wider and wider.

After that, Ji Guowei and I became good brothers who talked about everything. The factory is in the off-season, and there are no classes in ministry of materials and equipment. He came to me and asked me to work overtime in the quality control department. Several machines running in the yard of the quality control department are rotating rapidly, and the qualified finished products flow to the packaging machine along the light green conveyor belt like boats floating on the dock. Ji Guowei and I stood side by side in front of the packaging machine, laying a piece of transparent film to package the products. Seal it, label it and put it on the tray behind him. Packaging products have no technical content, we have been repeating simple actions, and the sealing machine is "clicking". Leg soreness, waist swelling and dry throat. Water gurgles into our stomachs, and sweat comes out of our bodies and flows like a stream. Sweat flowed until the bell rang. Ji Guowei and I like to unload the heavy burden on our shoulders, wipe the sweat on our faces, talk and laugh, and go to the canteen for dinner. Ji Guowei also asked me to go to the car for indirect materials. It requires both skill and physical strength, and no one else will do it. He stood on the platform of the machine and lifted the feeding shaft. I put a small piece of material in it, pumped it up and fixed it, and then cut Niu Pijiao at the seal. He fixed a smooth paper tube on the take-up reel, glued double-sided tape, tore off the white skin and glued the materials that had passed through the roller on it. Adjust the tension and torsion of the machine, and the bearing will keep turning. Ji Guowei kept patting the materials, and I stood on the operation panel to fill in the report. The empty workshop only heard the clatter of bearings. One night, Ji Guowei and I jumped up and down and were very busy. Life is bitter and my heart is sweet. On the way back to the dormitory, the faint night wind brought the fragrance of mango, and my fatigue and sleepiness drifted away with the fragrance. Ji Guowei bowed his head and said simply, "I asked you to accompany me to work overtime in other departments." On the one hand, you can earn more overtime pay, on the other hand, you can experience life and let you collect more creative materials. " I wiped the sweat from my forehead and held Ji Guowei's wet hand hard, but I never let go. That night, I understood his good intentions.

I write while working, and the written manuscript will be sent to Kyrgyzstan for maintenance and transformation. I will submit the revised manuscript to national magazines. When I received the sample magazine sent by the magazine, I looked at my own handwriting, and I thought of Ji Guowei who was sweating behind me. I will go to the store to buy some bottles of beer and ask Ji Guowei to stand in the corridor and drink until the dead of night. The busy and dull working day passed day by day. 20xx In May, Ji Guowei was introduced to a girl who runs a barber shop. He resigned and went home on a blind date. The night before Ji Guowei left the factory, he gave me a silver-gray pen, which he had been carrying for many years. I polished that pen and treasured it in every wandering day. I am tired and bitter. I always turn out the pen at the bottom of the box and hold it in my hand. Ji Guowei's dark face emerges in front of my eyes. He seems to be saying to me, "Brother, remember my words, treat the readers as your bosom friends and tell them the truth." . You are my brother, you wrote a satisfactory work, and I am happier than anyone else ... "

I forgot the hardships in my life, dug out the white manuscript paper, held the pen Ji Guowei gave me, and wrote word for word. I think if I persist, I may write works that satisfy Ji Guowei and readers. ...