"Novel" What happened in the village - Prologue (I)

【Those things in the village】

Recently, I always think of the countryside where I lived in my youth, some people, some things. They belong to a very ordinary small number of people, there are not many earth-shattering experiences, they are the bits and pieces of many villages in this land of China, which constitute the past and present lives of the countryside.

Some of them have long passed away, and some of them are still alive, but their figures, and the pictures of their lives, appear in my mind from time to time, making me think that I should rely on my own memory to record them, and count the vivid scenes of life, showing the situation of the hometown where I once lived, and the original appearance of the lives of the people around me when I was a teenager.

The driving force that gave birth to my record is not only my love for the countryside, but also because in recent years, when I returned to my hometown during the Spring Festival, I always heard the villagers say that the village would be demolished, and a township adjacent to us has already been demolished one village after another, and the construction of the city is not subject to the will of the people, they are like a dustpan of silkworms eating mulberry leaves, without scruples to encroach on the rural homes that we have lived in for generations. Thinking about my ancestors who lived for hundreds of years, if one day it is really demolished, then where are the memories left for myself and my descendants to find? So, this sense of urgency drove me to search my own memories, and the past of my hometown was thus generated.

The village where I live, in a small town in the Jianghan Plain of eastern Hubei, does not count the emigration and urban hukou, the permanent population is about a thousand people, in the whole town belongs to a relatively large village bay, the impression is not rich, most people rely on a gray knife to break into the northeast, plastering perennial plastering to support their families, hard enough and industrious enough. Now there are also businesses and industries, but most of them work to make a living, and they are away all year round, and only return to the quiet village every Spring Festival.

Because it is my own memory, it must be with my own observations and thoughts, not necessarily comprehensive, but it must be my original impression, no matter whether it is praise or disparagement, I do not accuse and ridicule anyone, but it is completely recorded out of what I have experienced, as a story, just an old time in the past, if someone is mentally "hurt" because of this, it is not my intention, but just an inadvertent fault.

Because of the people and things I have experienced, there are very familiar, there are a little familiar, there are few things that I see, there are repeated contacts after adulthood, then of course there are detailed and not detailed, some detailed, I may record one or two in a row like writing a novel, some are not so detailed, I may be closed. It's not that I don't want to write more, it's just the familiarity and strangeness of what I've experienced.

In the process of recording, due to the depth and limitations of the individual's understanding of the events and characters, it may not be comprehensive, and it will certainly be added and modified because of the new content heard later.

Autumn is a nostalgic season, the green leaves of the hometown have already peeled off the trunk with the gust of autumn wind, and the pieces fall, from green to yellow, to wither, and then into mud. The air is quiet, but it's also sentimental.

Well, the story begins.

to be continued......

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