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墨書 Inktalez
The weather was getting hotter, and my classmates were wearing less and less. After the Jiguang event, I once again attracted many gazes—wanting to cool off, I took off my Sandal, just like in summers past, and walked barefoot around the campus.
Walking barefoot in summer had long been a habit of mine, and it made me stand out a bit in the eyes of my classmates and teachers. Everyone was young, concerned about appearances, and hiding their flaws had become an instinctive rule. Although Gaosha was just a small town, the song "The Country Girl Comes to the City, Loves to Go Barefoot and Not Wear Shoes" had led many to associate going barefoot with being a "country bumpkin." For high school students aiming to "rise above the Farmer Class," no one wanted to be seen as uncouth.
I had never been one to care much about others' opinions, especially regarding my lifestyle choices. The wild boy style I adopted even carried into my later years. Thus, amidst the astonished looks of my classmates and teachers, I proudly walked around with my Sandal in hand and my bare feet shining brightly.
In truth, walking barefoot did come with certain dangers. The greatest threat came from the ground itself; the ever-present gravel, thorns, and even shards of glass could easily injure delicate skin. When I was two or three years old, I once played barefoot in the yard and stepped on a piece of glass that pierced my tender foot. I cried out in pain while my grandmother struggled to pull it out. Eventually, she borrowed a pair of tweezers from fifth Grandma and managed to extract the shard after much effort, leaving me bleeding profusely.
However, by the time I reached high school, years of going barefoot had toughened my feet into what seemed like legendary "Iron Plates." It felt as if nothing could pierce the skin on the soles of my feet anymore. While walking through the woods, even the most common Cedar Leaves posed no threat. In fields, the hard mud and gravel felt more like a foot massage than danger. Only particularly sharp Thornbush could potentially hurt me, but they grew deep in the mountains. As long as I wasn't mushroom picking or gathering firewood in those areas, I wouldn't encounter them. I certainly wouldn't go out of my way to step on something so obviously hazardous just to prove my "Iron Plate" status.
Thus, ignoring any risks, I continued my barefoot lifestyle at Third Middle School. Little did I know that one day, the danger of going barefoot would finally catch up with me.
On a hot evening after our first study session, eager for a breeze, I stepped out of the classroom and instinctively headed toward the restroom. The long corridor connecting the classroom to the restroom was dark; only faint light filtered through the classroom windows onto the dirt floor. At the restroom entrance hung a dusty fifteen-watt bulb that barely emitted a flicker of light. A row of urinals revealed only a vague outline near the door.
Considering that many classmates might need to use it soon, I walked quietly until I reached about halfway before unbuttoning my pants. Suddenly, a cool sensation flowed over my bare left foot. Startled at first but quickly regaining composure, I recognized this as a snake slithering across my foot. It must have come from the grass near the restroom; perhaps it was seeking shade. The warmth of my foot likely wasn't appealing to it either; as long as I didn't provoke it, it would soon leave.
So there I stood motionless beside the urinal for what felt like an eternity—though it was only seconds—until that chilling sensation finally faded away. Once it completely disappeared and I gauged its direction, I quickly hopped back toward where the corridor met the restroom.
Only when standing under that dim yellow light did I finally exhale deeply. Blocking incoming classmates at the restroom door, I warned them: "There's a snake inside..."
After experiencing that danger, I began to rein in my carefree attitude. Even during unbearable heat, no matter where I was on campus, I wore my symbolic "noble" Sandal. Occasionally, I'd visit the creek behind school to enjoy its coolness and softness; it seemed that from then on, I would have to bid farewell to going barefoot.
Soon enough, after a week of classes ended, I prepared to head home with my backpack as usual. This time was different—I forced myself to wear my Sandal.
The route home began with an asphalt road stretching from Third Middle School to Tai Ping Bridge, approximately two or three miles long. Since it was summer, the sun had softened the asphalt so much that it stuck to the soles of my Sandal, making an annoying sound with every step. My plastic Sandal, which had accompanied me for two or three years already bore scars from previous repairs by Dad using heated metal pieces. Now subjected to intense friction against asphalt again, they were on the verge of breaking apart once more. Just as I reached Grain Station, one strap snapped off completely. No one wants shoes that don't fit properly—especially not someone as youthful and spirited as me. Immediately, I kicked off both Sandal, holding one in each hand while walking barefoot along nearly ten kilometers from Gaosha to home. As for the slightly hot asphalt or rough stones beneath me? They were merely footprints—or perhaps nothing at all.
Of course, going barefoot in my youth wasn't just about getting around during school hours; it was essential during labor too. Whether planting rice or working in muddy fields, being barefoot was far more convenient than wearing shoes or socks—even when carrying loads along rural paths; nothing beat barefoot ease! There was even one time when visiting Father-in-Law's House, new shoes pinched so badly that I simply carried one while walking barefoot for over ten miles through mountainous terrain.
Thus did going barefoot accompany me from mountain villages into town life in Gaosha, then into small cities like Shaoyang, eventually reaching larger places like Changsha and Shanghai. However, in cities, walking barefoot outside could lead you straight into detention centers—though incidents like what happened with Sun Zhigang would only come to light years later; such places were frightening indeed—I had no desire to end up there.
Consequently, all I could do was find moments at home where I'd occasionally enjoy walking barefoot on cool floors.
I found myself longing for those carefree days when going barefoot was an option without hesitation or fear; thankfully whenever returning to my rural hometown—not during cold winters—I could always kick off my shoes and revel in close contact with that mysteriously inviting earth beneath me.
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