Author: Yiyun Sui and Tang Dynasty It was probably the autumn of 1984 or 1985. I can’t remember the specific date now.

I was six or seven years old at the time and had just entered elementary school. I remember running around barefooted on the ground all summer because I didn't have sandals.

One night, around eight or nine o'clock.

The moon is very big and round, and Chang'e can be vaguely seen, as well as Wu Gang who is always cutting down trees tirelessly.

The bright moonlight casts onto the earth, and the wind blows on the branches, swaying gently, leaving behind mottled tree shadows.

There is no electricity in the countryside, and every household lights a kerosene lamp in the pot house (kitchen) or main room. Children in twos and threes play in the moonfield outside, and some old people sit at the door to enjoy the cool air or talk about ancient times.

At this time, my father came back from the fields with the cow and the rake.

After a day of farm work, my father came home after dark. My father was tired and hungry.

When my mother saw her father coming back, she hurried to the pot house and filled her father with a large bowl of noodles from the pot.

Mother told father that there were two poached eggs lying at the bottom of the bowl.

I heard this.

While my father was tying the cows and scavenging grass to feed them, I tiptoed to the pot house, opened the noodles with chopsticks, and ate both eggs.

Originally, I only wanted to eat one and save one for my father, but when I saw the white and tender eggs, I couldn't help myself and swallowed them whole in one bite.

After eating, I regretted it. I was a little scared and didn't dare to tell my parents, so I found a shadow and hid.

Father washed his hands and went to the pot house to eat.

Picking up the rice bowl, my father ate hungrily.

The large bowl of noodles quickly reached the bottom, but my father did not find the poached eggs.

The father looked in the pot and still couldn't find the eggs.

When I asked my mother, she explained that it was clearly placed in a bowl, but she served it herself.

How could two poached eggs disappear?

My father and mother were very surprised, so they talked for a while.

After a long time, I guessed it was time to go to sleep, so I sneaked out.

I walked along the wall, afraid that my father and mother would beat me.

When we got inside, everything was normal, as if nothing had happened.

I climbed into bed and fell asleep.

This matter has been buried in my heart for almost forty years, and I have never dared to tell my father.

Sometimes I wanted to say something, but when I saw my father’s wrinkled face and gray hair, I didn’t know how to speak, so I shut up.

As I studied abroad, married a wife, and had children, the longer the time went by, the farther and farther away I became from my father, and the opportunities to see each other became less and less. I could only go back to my hometown for a few days every year during the Spring Festival.

As time went by, maybe my father had forgotten these two eggs; maybe he understood the whole story at that time, but he didn't say anything.

Two eggs are not a big deal today.

But at that time, it was not easy to eat two eggs.

The hens raised at home would always lay a fixed number of eggs. The mother would always save up until she had twenty or thirty eggs, and then send them to the market to sell them to get some money for weighing oil and buying salt.

It is no exaggeration to say that the hen's butt is a small bank in the house.

I remember that at that time, an egg could be sold for five cents, or you could exchange it for a notebook or a pencil at the salesman's place.

Although every household raises chickens, there are not many opportunities to eat eggs throughout the year, that is, only on a few days such as the Spring Festival and Tomb Sweeping Day.

Of course, if you have a big table, you can eat more braised eggs.

Eating at a big table is what I call it in my hometown, which means taking the gift money to have a banquet at a relative's house.

When it comes to weddings, funerals, births, or joining the army, the host always has to set a date to buy all the side dishes, hire a fat country chef, set up a tent in the yard, light a stove, and cook in advance.

Be prepared for multiple days.

Chicken, fish, meat and eggs are a standard dish for a big table. They are placed in a big bowl, piled high and steaming, very tempting.

If it is a ceremony for giving birth to a baby, the host will bring five or six red eggs to the guests before leaving.

After the eggs are cooked in water, put them in a red dye basin.

Bringing home red eggs can bring some happiness.

Naturally, this is also the long-awaited delicacy for children who have not been able to get the chance to eat at the big table.

Now, my daughter is ten years old, but she has never liked eating eggs since she was a child.

Every day, I have to coax her, talk to her earnestly, and persuade her to cook and fry in different ways, maybe she will take a bite.

When eating salted eggs or salted duck eggs, she always has to cooperate with me. She eats the yellow eggs and I eat half of the white eggs, or she eats the small ones and I eat the big ones, or she eats me first and then the other. The result is the same, which is very fair and reasonable.

The reason why she doesn't eat eggs is simple. Today's eggs are not out of stock. They are too common. There are too many types of food to choose from on her daily dinner table.

I told her that eggs are very nutritious and she must eat at least one egg a day in order to grow up healthily and happily.

One day, after I coaxed her for a long time, she still refused to eat eggs, so I told her the story of these two eggs.

After hearing this story, her big black eyes flashed, and she immediately asked me to call my father and tell him that he had stolen grandpa's eggs.

I smiled and told her perfunctorily that I would call later to tell Grandpa not to be angry.

Then he picked up the egg, knocked it on the corner of the table, slowly peeled it open, and handed it to her.