Our four brothers and sisters lost their father who loved us, their school lost their excellent teacher, their mother lost their dear husband, and their grandfather lost his filial son. Since then, mother's Kang less laughter, less fighting, leaving only endless sighs and endless tears. Her mother shouldered the debt ridden and dying home with her unbending back. Her mother's Kang became her only solid "dependence" and the only loyal "audience" who could listen to her cries. Mother always sleeps on the earthen Kang in the dead of night, sobbing. Her voice is so oppressive, for fear of waking up the children sleeping beside her. She is so sad, so heartrending, as if she is asking for help from heaven. When there are still a few naughty stars blinking, my mother carries the farm tools to the ground again. She is waiting for the nine Mu responsibility field with her life. She always wants her sweat to be sprinkled on the ground and turned into golden eggs, so that our brothers and sisters can eat well and grow up quickly. When the stars were all over the sky, my mother dragged her tired body into the house, and after dinner, my mother sat on the Kang to hold the sole of our shoes or sew clothes for us, while we swung open word by word and crawled on the Kang to study. At this time, there was only the sound of "pulling the rope" and the sound of writing. Even when I was in normal school in the city, I was wearing a thousand layers of shoes that my mother had put on the Kang. Now my feet are still padded with flower insoles that my mother rusted on the Kang.