Life in ruins

Wang Jifeng, born in 1986 in Longyan, is a member of the Longyan Writers Association and a middle school Chinese teacher. His works are mainly essays and novels. New Work No. 3 ——

On weekends, stroll the streets. Walking to a ruin, I was surprised to find that there was a pool of water under the ruins, and there were many ink-colored small life active in it- tadpoles.

Growing up in the countryside, my childhood memories are like a musical score, which is densely recorded, all of which are pastoral songs sung by insects and frogs. Spring night, summer night, the countryside is full of frogs, just like the lake that rises and falls with the wind. I was in it, as if it were a flat boat on the surface of a vast lake, gently drifting with the cool night breeze.

Today, when I can meet these elves in the forest of reinforced concrete, I really have a sense of intimacy that I know from other places. I crouched down and looked at the little creatures with great interest. These tadpoles have just arrived in this world, swaying their ink-dotted heads in puddles of water, dragging an ink-like tail, as if they were conceiving an ink painting, and it seems to be the flexible strokes of the calligrapher's hands.

It was a depression of less than half a square meter, slightly turbid water, scattered with different garbage. A small tadpole seemed to spot me, and with a "whoosh" sound burrowed into a torn leather shoe, poked its head out of the lace hole, and looked at me playfully. After a moment, finding that there was no danger, he swam out shakily again, slowly passing through a red plastic bag. The garbage in the water, like the pavilions in the park, has become an entertainment facility for the little tadpoles.

More than a decade ago, on the western outskirts of the city, there were turquoise rice paddies, dense trees, and clear rivers. In the insect singing grass, birds singing in the trees, frogs diving among the rice, fish flying shallow bottom. Later, the machinery roared, shuttling back and forth to fill the earth to build the building. One day I passed by, only to see a large pool of rain in the temporarily unfilled area, where many frogs gathered, and they were singing loudly, not knowing whether they were singing or protesting.

The little tadpoles in front of them are still moving through the garbage in the water, and they enjoy the tranquility of this square inch of land, a look of self-satisfaction. Looking at this group of carefree little tadpoles, I can only silently wish that these little ones can grow into frogs and return to nature before the water dries up, or before the ruins are filled in.