Herói Salgado

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When Gu Yusheng returned home from outside, it was already deep into the night. He hurriedly removed his night attire, hid it away, and changed into his work clothes. He dared not lie on the bed, for fear of falling into a deep sleep. Instead, he sat on the wooden chair behind the window, waiting for the first crow of the rooster—salt workers always rose before dawn, beginning their labor at the very first crow.

Soon, the light in his younger sister Gu Yuru’s room flickered on. She had to go to the communal kitchen at the salt drying field every morning to prepare breakfast for the overseers, so she was always the first to rise and leave home. Gu Yuru had begun learning to cook at the age of six, her hands nimble and diligent—salt workers toiled through the night, making breakfast crucial. She had to prepare meals for dozens of people before dawn and deliver them to the worksite; without quick hands, the task would be impossible.

Next, there was movement in his father Gu Datong’s room—Gu Yusheng knew his father never turned on the light when rising in the morning. The first thing his father did was sit on a wooden stool and smoke a water pipe, producing a distinctive gurgling sound. In the quiet of night, the deep, resonant gurgle from his father’s room was like a string of wake-up chimes, often rousing Gu Yusheng from sleep. Each dawn, amidst the long “chime,” Gu Yusheng had to complete a series of actions—getting up, dressing, washing. By the time the “chime” stopped, Gu Yusheng would be standing at the door, shovel in hand, waiting for his