Chapter 2: The Packed Bus and Unforeseen Encounters

The bus home was packed.

I was among the first to board, securing two seats for my younger brother and myself.

At the initial departure stop, the crowd was sparse. Most passengers were familiar faces, townsfolk from the same area. Their chance encounters on the bus sparked lively conversations, each person pulling at the other, exchanging endless greetings as if reuniting after ages.

Despite my social anxiety, I found myself enjoying the warm, harmonious atmosphere.

The official bus, scheduled for one o’clock, departed precisely on time.

This particular route served the slightly more distant small towns, making for a longer journey. The entire trip was estimated to take over an hour.

Consequently, a seat was considered a treasure more precious than the heavens themselves in the minds of some passengers.

Initially, I had been quite pleased to see several vacant seats. After all, a peaceful ride home was always preferable to being crushed in a crowd.

But reality soon informed me that my joy had been premature.

There was a considerable distance, and indeed a significant difference, between the starting point and the second stop.

The second stop was a bustling hub, and when the bus arrived, the bus stop was teeming with people. It resembled a chaotic flowerbed, a mix of old and young, vibrant and ordinary faces.

As soon as the bus doors opened, the flowerbed exploded, surging forward like a zombie horde besieging a city.

The female driver, her heart pounding with trepidation, sternly yet cautiously poked her head out. She called to the crowd outside:

“One by one! Pay first, then sit!”

Yet, her words were like pebbles cast into the vast ocean, silently sinking without a trace.

The boarding passengers jostled against each other, with no time to pay. Their eyes and legs, moving frantically, rushed towards the seats in the back, leaving the female driver with a stunned gaze and a silently agape mouth.

“Pay up! Pay up!”

The female driver simultaneously dealt with the remaining boarding passengers while helplessly yelling at those who had already pushed their way to the front.

Finally, as the seats gradually emptied, and even the standing room vanished, the zombie horde’s siege came to an end.

An elderly man, robust in voice and seemingly powerful yet appearing somewhat frail, squeezed past me. He had been among the first to push his way on, but upon reaching the back with a fierce demeanor, he discovered there were no seats left.

The aging tiger instantly bristled with fury, launching an attack on a woman who occupied two, or perhaps even more, seats:

“I want to sit here.”

The woman politely explained:

“Elder, someone is already here.”

“How can someone be here?!”

“My elder is behind me, they’ll be here in a moment!”

“I don’t care! I’m sitting right here!”

The old man shamelessly began to lower himself.

The woman, unwilling to concede, blocked him:

“Elder, please be reasonable. I’ve already claimed this spot.”

The old man exploded in anger, his voice booming louder than the heavens: “You claimed it, and you think you’re in the right?! Do you understand the principle of ‘first come, first served’? Not only do you refuse to give up your seat for an elder, but you’re also snatching an elder’s spot! What do you think you’re doing? Bullying an old man?!”

All eyes on the bus turned towards the back.

The woman softened, speaking in a low, gentle tone:

“Elder, please don’t be like this. I’m trying to reason with you nicely…

“Reason? This is your idea of reasoning! You almost slapped me across the face, and you call that reasoning?!”

The old man remained unappeased, grumbling and cursing.

People around them began to mediate, and eventually, a seat was made available for the elder.

The clamorous voices finally subsided.

Snapping out of my ‘melon-eating’ trance, I noticed a white-haired, sparsely-follicled elder who had boarded later. They stood unmoving, short of breath, swaying slightly while clutching the handrail.

Feeling a pang of sympathy, I leaned towards my ten-year-old brother, who was feeling miserable from motion sickness, and whispered:

“How about you sit on my lap?”

My dizzy brother, not quite understanding, asked in a childish voice, “Brother, what’s wrong?”

“Let’s give the seat to the grandpa.”

My brother seemed reluctant, squirming for a long moment before finally moving onto my lap.

I stroked his face, then looked at the elder and waved them over:

“Grandpa, please sit here.”

The grandpa thanked me politely countless times before carefully settling into the seat.

I smiled and waved my hand dismissively.

Just then, another incident seemed to be unfolding near the female driver.

Listening closely, I learned that two elderly women had, in their confusion, followed the crowd onto the bus. After looking around, they vaguely realized they might have boarded the wrong one.

The two old women grew agitated and anxious, quickly turning their complaints towards the female driver:

“Isn’t this the bus to XX? Why didn’t you say something sooner?!”

“I shouted it countless times! Whose fault is it that you didn’t hear?”

“So what do we do now?”

“What else can you do? Get off quickly!”

“But what about the money I paid?”

“Money? What money? What do you expect after you’ve already paid? Get off, get off, hurry up! Next time, figure out which bus it is before you pay!”

The old woman was displeased, grumbling and cursing for a long time before finally shuffling off the bus.

The female driver, already irritated by several fare evaders, was further exasperated by this incident, her mood worsening considerably.

Coincidentally, an insensitive man, observing the scene with a theatrical air, commented:

“Oh, it’s also your bus’s problem. How hard is it to clearly write the route, tsk tsk tsk…”

This comment infuriated the already fuming female driver, who snapped back:

“You blithering idiot, everything that comes out of your mouth is nonsense! Now you’re blaming me? Our bus fares have been cut several times over; an hour-long journey only costs two or three yuan. We’re here to serve the people, not to endure your temper!”

The man, realizing he had spoken out of turn, mumbled something indiscernible and fell silent.

The female driver, feeling wronged, continued to curse relentlessly:

“Honestly, when you get on a bus, just keep your mouth shut. Don’t go meddling in things you don’t understand…”

I wearily shook my dizzy head. The bumpy ride had, unexpectedly, made me motion sick as well.

Hugging my equally uncomfortable brother, I turned my head, taking deep breaths of the fresh air from the window, but to no avail.

Once the commotion settled, only friendly conversations and greetings remained in the bus compartment.

Glancing casually around the carriage, I noticed that the group of young people who had boarded with me at the very beginning were all standing. I hadn’t realized when they had given up their seats.

There was also an elder, almost unconscious from severe motion sickness, being tended to by unfamiliar passengers around them.

At this moment, my emotions suddenly became somewhat complex.

I recalled studying essays in elementary school, where teachers often spoke of ‘simple hometown affection.’ Back then, I didn’t understand it; it was merely four grand, unfamiliar characters.

But years later, now, a ripple of understanding stirred within my heart, bringing a sudden clarity.

In my hazy state, the sounds around me gradually blurred. In my mind, both the good and the bad, the elders and the young, all coalesced into two words: ‘simple authenticity’.

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