Refers to the mustache on the Japanese Nidan trademark image.

Repost "Nidanhu" is not the kind of small beard that Japanese men often like to grow, it is a nickname for a person.

His surname was Hu, and he sold Rendan, so people called him "Rendan Hu". He still agreed and said, "Hey, here it comes, here it comes, how much do you want to buy?"

My father opened a small shop, selling groceries, cigarettes, and wine from the north and south, and making a living. The layout of the store is completely different from the Xianheng Hotel described by Mr. Lu Xun, but there is a table next to the container for people who come to the store to drink and sit temporarily. "Rendanhu" often came here to drink, and I met him at the table. I was still very young at that time, just starting school, and could barely reach the edge of the table.

"Rendanhu" asked for wine and started selling Rendan. In the early 1950s, Rendan was still a relatively rare heatstroke prevention drug in rural areas. It was convenient, practical, and not expensive. Some smokers bury one in their cigarettes, and the smoke smells different. It's cool, refreshing, and of course comfortable. I haven't tried it to see it.

"Rendan Hu" carried a big bag. In the bag were several large bottles, all of which were filled with Rendan. There was also a special wooden spoon with ten holes on it, each of which was just right. It is very convenient to put a benevolence pill in it and use it to count when buying and selling. The people in the village don't do much business, they just count them one by one, buy a few and keep them to prevent heatstroke during summer farming and to eliminate the dirty smell in the fields.

"Rendanhu" was talking to his father while counting the pills. I don't know what they were talking about. "Rendanhu" traveled all over the world, traveling around the world, maybe it was about current news, maybe about the rain harvest, maybe about neighbor disputes, in short, he talked endlessly, and sometimes burst into laughter. Between talking and selling pills, he would take a sip of wine. The food was not particular. Sometimes it was the smoked rabbit head sold next door, which cost five cents each at that time. Sometimes it was just a few peanuts or beans, like Kong Yiji eats fennel beans.

One day, "Rendanhu" came in and as soon as he sat down, he took something out of his pocket, handed it to me, and said, "Try it, try it!" I was a little at a loss. Just stare. He put the bag on the table, tore open the skin of the thing, revealing the soft, white core, and said, "Eat it!" I took it hesitantly and took a small bite. It was soft and sweet. . "Rendanhu" turned around and said to his father: "These are bananas from the south. There are so few of them!" The banana I ate for the first time in my life was given to me by "Rendanhu". He said he kept it specially to give it to his daughter who was studying in the shop to try it.

"Rendanhu" has no home. He is at home everywhere. At that time, people who sold benevolence pills were just like peddlers and salesmen. They were all doing business individually, relying on their mouths and legs. "Rendanhu" fully meets these two conditions, but it still seems difficult to change his destiny. Soon, the "public-private partnership" reached its climax, my father's shop became socialist, and "Rendanhu" disappeared.

I asked my father, and he said vaguely that he was sick and couldn't go out.

In the blink of an eye, the girl who was studying around the table and eating bananas was now over sixty years old. My granddaughter likes to eat bananas, and I always think of "Rendanhu" at times like this. He has been hardworking and poor all his life. He has only lived a good life for a few days, so we should be satisfied.