Keeping One’s True Identity

By Mo Xiaomi

It was snowing in Hangzhou City on New Year’s Day.Some were wild with joy amongst their circle of friends while others could barely make ends meet.

Our housekeeper’s husband opened a small automotive repair shop in the suburbs.To make it easier for their kids to go to school, they rent a small apartment in the downtown area, so the man has to go to the repair shop every day, riding an e-bike for more than an hour to get there even in good weather.Today, it was quite dangerous to ride on the freezing road, and the man’s hands were chapped by the frigid air.His wife advised him not to go.He agreed, thinking of taking the opportunity to rest for a day or two before a busy year.

The other day a huge snowstorm hit the area.However, at dawn, he already got up and went to the repair shop because a couple of familiar customers called him, saying that another repair shop nearby took advantage of the snowy weather and overcharged them.They hoped that he could be back because he offers a fair price and reliable services.

The man didn’t arrive home until 10 pm that day.Walking many blocks and streets, he had to push his e-bike from time to time.His family members were longing for him to return for supper.Despite the slow day at work, the man was pleased for a simple reason: The clients were all his acquaintances, so if he didn’t go, what would they do in the face of the car problems?

A sense of duty or responsibility does not only belong to great men or the socalled professionals; it can belong to ordinary men as well.People with this sense of duty and responsibility are worthy of others’ trust and respect.

Residents living in Xiaoshan District of Hangzhou will immediately know that the Spring Festival is coming because they can smell a fishy smell and see the fish and shrimp arrays from afar at the market.

One man in particular, probably in his fifties, stands out at making dried fish.Herrings were piling up in his stall, each weighing roughly ten pounds.In the cold wind, he quickly fillets one fish at a time, digging out its gills in two or three steps.He cuts from the tail along the fin ridge upward, splits its head forcibly, divides the body into two halves joined by its belly, and then removes the guts.He cleans each fish in less than a minute—his hands moving like f loating clouds and f lowing water.

After gutting the fish, he pickles them on the spot, sprinkling a handful of salt, then spreading another layer of fish and sprinkling another handful of salt.Salt sprinkling is the most important process in making dried fish.Others use a scale while he makes an accurate measurement in his hand.He marinates the fish for two days and two nights, rinses and cleans the fillets with water, and hangs them up to dry for three or four days.

He busies himself since the celebration on New Year’s Day, as he’ll need to make 5,000 dried fish in total before the coming of the Spring Festival to satisfy his customers.

This local man’s family has made a living fishing from generation to generation.In recent years though, making a living on fishing has become more and more difficult, so he has switched to making fish-based snacks.His skill of making dried fish has been well known for more than twenty years now.

Both of his daughters have grown up watching their father dedicate himself fully year after year.He has to be on duty at night when he dries the fish, and set up a shed and cover the fish with plastic cloth when it rains.They both advise him to retire and enjoy life.He said, “Every winter we get calls from restaurants and regular customers, saying that after a year of hankering, they want to taste my dried fish again.Others say that if they can’t eat my dried fish, they will have a crappy New Year.That’s not something I can push away.”

This is truly a sense of duty.

(FromRomantic Generation—Youth, Issue 11, 2018.Translation: Qing Run)

使命感

文/莫小米

新年，杭城飘雪，朋友圈开始狂欢的同时，有人生计却很艰难。

我家保洁阿姨的丈夫在城乡接合部租个小门面开修车铺，为了上学的儿女读书方便，租住在市中心，男人每天都要去修车铺，天气好也得骑一个多小时电动车才能到达。路上结冰有危险，男人的手冻得开裂。妻子劝他不要去了，全年无休，就趁机歇一两日吧。

休息一日，第二天雪更大，他摸黑起来，说今天一定要去修车铺，因为昨天有几个老顾客打电话来，说那附近另有个修车铺借着大雪天气乱收费，因为他价格公道，技术也一流，大家都希望他能过去。

男人这天到晚上10点才回家，很多路段都是推着电动车走，全家等他回来才一起吃饭。虽然没几单生意，但男人很开心：都是熟人，我不去，他们怎么办呢？

使命感不只是大人物和所谓神圣职业者的专利，普通劳动者、小人物也被人需要，让人惦记，他们对得起别人的信任和等待，就是一种使命感。

住在杭州萧山一带的人，老远闻见鱼腥香，看见壮观的鱼阵，就知道春节将至。

做鱼干的是一位50来岁的大伯。刚刚运到的青鱼堆成小山，每条都有10斤左右。寒风瑟瑟中，大伯麻利地扯过来一条，三两下挖去鱼鳃，一把快刀从尾部沿着鱼脊往上切开，到鱼头处用力一劈，剖成鱼腹相连的两半，再挖去内脏，不到一分钟就处理一条，如行云流水。

杀完鱼，大伯就地腌制。铺一层鱼，撒一把盐，再铺一层，再撒一把。撒盐是做鱼干最关键的一道工序，没把握的人用秤来称，他一抓一个准。腌个两天两夜，用水冲洗干净，用一截小竹片将鱼身撑开，挂起来晾晒三四天，便成了。

元旦过后就开始忙活，一直做到春节前，总共要做5000条才够。

大伯祖上三代以捕鱼为生，到他这代，捕鱼挣钱越来越难，就改行做水产生意。晒鱼干这门手艺，他做了二十多年，远近闻名。

两个女儿都大了，看老爸年年辛苦，晒鱼干夜间要值班，遇到下雨天还要搭棚、盖塑料布，都劝他不要做了。他说：“每年一入冬，就有饭店和老顾客打来电话，说馋了一年，又想尝鱼干的味道了。还有人说吃不到我做的鱼干，年都过不好的，我哪好意思不做啊。”

这不是使命感是什么？

（摘自《风流一代·青春》2018年第11期）