觉罗康林《奶奶说，国家的事比命重要》

Grandma said: The affairs of the Country are More Important than Life.

Jueluo Kanglin (original name: Zhao Kanglin), a Xibe ethnic, graduated from Peking University and has been engaged in journalism for nearly twenty years. He is proficient in various ethnic languages, a senior student at the 12th Lu Xun Literature Institute Young and Middle-aged Writers Advanced Seminar, a member of the Chinese Writers Association, and a member of the Shanghai Writers Association. His principal works include the novel There is a Han Street in Yili, Kanas Lake Curse (won the fourth Tian Shan Literature and Art Award for Novels in 2013), Huole Huole: Robu Lake Secret Realm; short story collections Huole Huole: Wolf Pebble Stone, Alfalfa Bird's Call; short story Batu Buku was selected into the People's Literature Publishing House "21st Century Novel Selection: 2014 Short Story". In 2020, commissioned by the State Council and the Chinese Writers Association, he participated in the "Poverty Alleviation and Fighting Theme Report Literature Creation Project". He created and published the long report literature "Spring Breeze Has Channeled through the Yumen Pass" and published the report literature A Working Group Came to the Village in People's Daily. The same year, he created and published the enterprise history Dream Building: Pallets Change the World". His film translations include Harry Potter, "State Case", Dangerous Spy War, etc.

At that time, Grandma was very ill and could no longer walk. She asked me to help her, and, with difficulty, she dragged her steps and came to the courtyard to sit down. It was an afternoon in spring; the sun was bright and warm, and a breeze blew through the trees in the back garden, carrying the scent of the earth's revival.

"Qingming is coming soon; I can't take you to the cemetery. Sigh..." Grandma sighed deeply and looked at the mountains in the distance outside the garden wall. That place was called Saerbaige, and the Gobi Desert, where our family's cemetery was, could not be seen at a glance.

I remember that every Qingming, Grandma would take my sister and me, bring some food and drinks, and walk along a winding path in the Gobi Desert for half a day to the cemetery. In the early spring, the earth was full of vitality, and we picked wildflowers while walking, and larks were singing overhead.

Our family's cemetery was on a slope covered with grass, and further south, in the far distance, was Wusun Mountain.

Grandma pulled out a bunch of dry grass, cleaned the space before Grandma's grave, and spread a white cotton cloth on the ground. My sister and I ran to the slope to pick up some small stones and brought them back to press the corners of the cotton cloth. Grandma carefully arranged the big Tibetan cake, a few boiled eggs, two or three small bowls of pickles, a few cubes of sugar, and a bowl of clear tea that we brought one by one on the cotton cloth. Grandma did her work while muttering softly. Every year she came here, she repeated the exact words, such as "We are doing well, the mother can rest assured", "the children are growing well, they are diligent and filial", and so on. Finally, Grandma took us to bow to Grandma, divided some of the food on the cotton cloth to Grandma, and we sat there to eat the rest while listening to Grandma telling some stories about Grandma when she was alive.

A gust of wind blew from the wilderness, carrying the bitter and fragrant smell of wormwood and wormwood. The whole world was quiet, like a dream, with only Grandma's voice in my ears and the birds singing above my head.

"In the future, when it's Qingming Festival, you should go to the graveyard to see Grandma and me," Grandma said, looking at me with the same peaceful expression.

"Grandma will get better. I'll take her to the graveyard to see Grandma in a horse-drawn carriage when the weather gets warmer." I said softly. I looked into the distance, towards the distant Wusun Mountain. I felt tears boiling in my eyes for the first time, ready to burst out. According to my parents, the doctor had come two days ago, and Grandma's illness was severe; at most, she could live for another month or two.

My heart was filled with reluctance, helplessness, sadness and despair. So, this is what it feels like to be separated from life and death, indescribable, and the whole world suddenly becomes so lonely and dim. I closed my eyes tightly and screamed in my heart: Grandma, I don't want you to die!

Grandma seemed to have heard my inner voice and turned her face to look at me, saying, "Grandma, before she died, told me one thing: let me remember, I remember, until now." She paused and leaned back on the chair, "I, now tell you, you remember too, whether useful or not."

I approached Grandma and whispered, "Grandma, I'm listening."

"We, the Xibe people, lived in the northeast long ago." Grandma gently raised her arm and pointed to the east, "The emperor, Qianlong Emperor, asked us to come here to help the country guard this place. At that time, it was said we could return to our northeast hometown after sixty years. "

I know something about the history of our Xibe people. In the 29th year of Qianlong (1764), a holy proclamation was issued, more than 3,000 officers and soldiers were selected from the Xibe people living in Shenyang and other places in the northeast today, and more than 4,000 people, including their families, were sent to Yili in the far north. After a year and five months of arduous journey, the Xibe officers, soldiers, and their families finally arrived in Yili. On the eighteenth day of the fourth lunar month, for our ancestors, it was a day of separation from life and death; from then on, they were separated from each other, each on their side.

Grandma saw me standing there, grabbed my hand and continued, "In the end, we stayed. My grandma told me, 'The country's matters are more important than life.'" That year, just as summer was beginning, a heavy rain fell all night, with lightning and thunder roaring. The sun rose from the east in the morning when the rain stopped. Grandma left as peaceful as if she had fallen asleep.