Ergu crouched on the flat slab with his back to the sun, reading a yellowed book in his shadow for a long time, turning a page for a long time, and soon turning it back again, because it was the wind that was turning for him.
Mu Ya came to the flat stone slab with his back to the stone slab, he looked at it, saw ergu reading a book, and did not make a sound, as if he understood the mystery of the reader. Mu Xi sat on the edge of Ergu and smelled a smell that made him feel extremely comfortable, and later he was sure that it was the aroma of a pack of high-grade paper cigarettes. He took the pipe from the leather pipe hanging in front of his abdomen, pressed it into a handful of orchid tobacco, lit the tobacco with a flint stone, and began to smoke. The streaks of smoke that came out of his mouth were blown away by the breeze before they could rise. When he smoked freely, the pipe also made a creaking sound. When a bucket of smoke was almost finished, he turned to look at Ergu, who was still looking down at the books, motionless like the words on them. Mu Ji suspected that Ergu had fallen asleep under the scorching sun, under the smoke of orchid smoke. His head tilted slightly toward Ergu, and he heard Ergu's mouth chewing on a few words repeatedly, listening carefully, and there was no sound again. Mu Ya felt that he was sleepy, he got up, passed by Ergu, and he saw that the hot sun had made Ergu's black and shiny hair curl even more.
Ergu did not perceive the coming and going of Mu Yao, Xu felt that there were people around him. As soon as they walked into the silence they became a tree, and the wind made them speak. In Mu Xi's eyes, the words in the book were like a group of sleeping insects and ants, and only people like Ergu could wake them up one by one.
When Gibb returned from school, he saw a figure on a flat stone slab in the distance, like a wooden stake, and when he approached, he saw that it was a person reading a book. He leaned in to read the book, which was written like oracle bones, and he didn't know a single one. He looked at the words and then at Ergu. Ergu made a series of rattling sounds at the book, and the corners of his mouth flashed with saliva illuminated by the sun, as if the words were fragrant yellow apricots, red apples, and green plums. Gibb looked down curiously to sniff the book, which had a hint of sweat and ink. The back of Gibb's head obscured Ergu's view of the book, and his eyes left the book to look at Gibb. He looked so closely that the moment Gibb looked up, he felt that Gibb was the child born from that book. Ergu watched, bending the index finger of his right hand to rub his tall nose, while his slender eyes and the corners of his mouth smiled, as if he had spied on Gibb's inner secret.
"Are you Bimo?" Gibb questioned.
"I am a poet." Ergu said as he stood up from the flat stone slab, and behind him was all blue sky.
"When you see a tree, you can think of birds in the tree and build nests wholeheartedly." Ergu added.
Gibb glanced back at the towering cypress tree on the edge of the ground, and Ergu smiled at him, a hint of melancholy flashing in his eyes.
Gibb said, "You have an eagle in your eyes. ”
"You'll be a poet too." Ergu praised Gibb's words.
When Gibb listened, his exposed little arm was gently touched by a layer of breeze, and he felt the subtlety of the wind. He looked down at the tip of his shoe, revealing a hole in it, and the thumb inside retracted back into the shoe from the moment he saw Ergu's eyes, and had been carefully hidden.
Ergu took a notebook out of his pocket and licked his index finger to turn it, a few lines falling on each page. Turning to the seventh page, the back is all blank. He tore off the seventh page, handed it to Gibb, and said, "Send you a poem about the moon." Gibb took the page, which had three short lines on it. Gibb felt that they were telling him that the moon had an upper winding moon, a lower quarter moon, and a full moon. Gibb once looked at the moon on the pole rack of the bag valley pole after the autumn harvest, and it could silence the village where the chickens and dogs jumped, and make people dream.
Gibb took the textbook from his bag, solemnly clipped the page inside, and then extended his little arm to Ergu, and their hands were clasped together, as if there had been some kind of wonderful connection from then on.
A few days later, Gibb met Ergu again on the flat slate, where he did not read a book, but sat there with his hands on his knees. His eyes stared at the setting sun on top of the white rock. Gibb also went to sit on the flat stone slab and look at the sunset with him.
Ergu didn't say anything back, "I'm waiting for you." ”
Gibb said, "You wrote poetry. About the Sun? ”
Ergu shook his head.
He said: "I have a winemaking friend who has buried a pot of buckwheat wine in Taolin, and this year has been seven years. He invited me to drink that altar wine, and I wanted to take you with me. ”
Gibb hesitated like a grown man, his toes tapping lightly on a handful of grass on the edge of the flat slate, and a ladybug flew away from the grass in a hurry. Gibb knew that children were not allowed to drink, but eventually he followed Ergu through the village to the dry Jinjiagou. There is a yin mountain on the edge of the ditch, they climb towards the path on the mountain, the wet leaves are full of garlic orchids, and the lilac flowers are dotted with dots of white, like the simple and elegant quality of the mountain girl. Ergu quickly stood on the hill, his back to the village. Gibb felt that the posture in which he stood was a mountain in itself. He turned and saw Gibb climbing as fast as a roe deer, and as he approached his feet, he reached for Gibb and pulled him up the hill, or rather, up the hill.
They stood tall and low on a hill and looked out, three or four villages scattered on both sides of a river, and in the near distance there was a peach forest with a tile house in between. Ergu held up his hands and blew his mouth into the gap between a pair of thumbs to a bone-like music. Soon out of the door of the tile room came a man dressed in white, and he was like a cloud.
Ergu said: "He is the winemaker." ”
Ergu led Gibb toward the peach grove, his head occasionally higher than the peach trees. A peach branch still hung from his curly hair, and his head was lowered even deeper. Gibb walked under his arm and could hear his heartbeat.
"The genealogy records that my past life was a tree full of raindrops. Last year, I spent months traveling through a primeval forest in search of the tree from my previous life. On the way, I met many strange animals that had no intention of hurting me. I thought I was a tree, and they thought I was of the same kind. In the middle of the jungle, I was also confronted by a ferocious leopard, and before it could open its mouth, it met my frustrated eyes. We looked at each other for a long time, and it turned and walked away silently..."
Gibb was listening carefully when his head slammed into something soft. Looking up, Gibb saw a man in a white cloak, he held Gibb's head in both hands, his eyes looked at Ergu, his dark eyebrows and beard moved upwards, and he was sincerely expressing his welcome to Ergu. The winemaker took Gibb's hand and led them toward the tile room, and the cloak that was swept back made both him and Gibb firm and powerful. The tile room was filled with large and small earthen jars covered with dust. Gibb walked over to the earthen jars, and instead of smelling wine, he smelled a mossy wetness.
The brewer opened the back door of the house and went out, a light came into the house, Gibb squinted his eyes to look outside the door, the bright light slowly showed a grass beach, a bay of water, a few cattle slowly moving on the river. Gibb had never seen such a quiet place, and he wanted to see farther. The brewer returned with a strenuous clutch of an earthen jar and closed the back door with his foot. He placed the earthen jar smoothly in the middle of the room, clapped his hands, looked at Ergu, nodded his head to his shoulder, and invited Ergu to open the altar with his own hands. Ergu walked to the altar of wine, and he squatted down, holding the altar with both hands, as if he were silently communicating with it. Then, as soon as his fingers clasped the lid of the altar, Gibb immediately smelled a sweet and fragrant smell that filled the room and brought the dusty earthen jars to life. Gibb's tongue was already soaked with a puddle of water, and he swallowed the saliva like wine, and his throat made a "grunt" sound of pleasure.
The winemaker scooped up the wine from a glass, Ergu folded his hands in a concave shape, and the wine in the glass flowed clearly into his palm, and he drank the wine with his head down to his palm, and the expression of grain abundance rose on his face. The winemaker rejoiced, and his eyes searched for Gibb in the high and low earthen pots, and beckoned to him. Gibb walked up to him, and learned Ergu's movements to concave his palms, and the winemaker scooped up a little more wine, and like raindrops fell a few in his palms.
"Manna respects the child, and the rain moistens the grass and trees."
When the winemaker uttered these words to Gibb, he seemed to be solemnly praying to a spiritual object.
Gibb licked the little liquor with his tongue, and in that instant he felt that he had completed a sacrifice on his own. The brewer saw Gibb's silent expression, and he laughed a clear and happy laugh in the tile room.
At this moment, the back door opened slightly, and a man in a black cloak walked in a light, and when he closed the door with his backhand, he became clear. He smiled and squinted at the people in the room, wrinkles stretching delicately on his face, as deep as a backlit leaf. The winemaker scooped up a glass of wine at his feet, and he sat with them around the glass. The old man took up his wine glass, gulped down a mouthful of liquor, and swam into a deep well like a fish. The winemaker approached the old man and said a few words of dialect, the old man nodded slightly, and then groped out a burnt yellow bamboo tube from his arms, he pulled out two thin pieces of bamboo, leaned in front of his lips, and used his breath to encourage the bamboo pieces, and the fingers cooperated with the movement, and the room suddenly lingered with a flexible clear sound. The winemaker began to chant the Yi dialect with the rhythm. Ergu closed his eyes slightly, his body shaking slightly, his fingers beating on his knees. The winemaker chanted a sentence, and Ergu continued to translate and sing in Chinese: "Every day the cup of wine is full, and the flowers bloom in the small garden." Sing and dance and enjoy yourself, and enjoy it without any obstacles. Qingshi has had several spring dreams, how many wizards of red dust..."
They chanted one after the other, one after the other, which made Gibb feel like he had entered a dream, and was deeply pleased by it, as if he would continue to chant in a third language. Ergu saw the little djibout sitting there, quiet and solemn, with mystery. Then he said to Gibb, "This string tune is used by Bimo to summon spirits, and I see that you have heard the sound of joy, and this is good, I just want to give you a different cocktail party." ”
The moon rises to the top of the East Mountain, and Ergu and Gibb return to the village along a sheep road at the foot of the mountain that resounds with the sound of cicadas. Ergu always held Gibb's hand, and when he moved, Ergu felt that he was afraid, so he shook his hand tighter.
"Listen, what are cicadas singing?" Ergu guides Gibb and turns his fear of walking at night into admiration and listening.
"I know, I know." Gibb accurately simulated the cicada singing to Ergu in a clear voice.
"Someone else heard another voice." Ergu's words filled Gibb with imagination, and he let out a soft cry: "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ”
When Gibb heard this, he stopped abruptly and looked at Ergu in amazement, and then his eyes became concerned.
"This is the sound of cicadas heard by the Tibetans of Liru." When Ergu finished speaking, he shook Gibb's small hand and reminded him to keep on his way.
"Once upon a time, there was a cicada that chirped from morning to night in a large tree outside a monastery. One day, because it was greedy for the lamp oil offered in the temple, it flew to the Buddha to drink it, and it tasted good taste, and it had it again and again. In order to punish the cicada, just when it was drinking peacefully, the Buddha lifted up a hot oil lamp and poured it on the cicada, and a pair of transparent cicada wings instantly cracked into countless veins, and the cicada issued a 'A-cha heat', a painful realization, and never dared to go near the oil lamp again. Ergu's voice was soft and gentle, infinitely close to Gibb's heart.
When Gibb heard the cicadas chirping again, they had reached under a walnut tree outside Gibb's house.
Ergu held Gibb's hand along the way, and he felt that he was holding his childhood self. When he broke up with Gibb, he squatted down, his lips lightly imprinted on the palm of Gibb's hand, as if he were feeling a few pieces of wine that the winemaker had dripped in The palm of Gibb's hand, and used a few handfuls of buckwheat. Gibb's body shook slightly, and when he returned to his senses, Ergu's thin back had already penetrated into the village.
In the moonlight, Gibb saw that the walnut tree was silver, and his aunt was holding a bamboo strip, and the figure running towards him was also studded with silver edges. Gibb climbed up to the tree as fast as she could, and Aunt stood cross-legged under the tree looking up at Gibb, her throat making a jackal-like howl to scold Gibb, and her voice fell to the ground before it touched the walnut leaves. Gibb was hungry, and he wanted to pick two walnuts with broken shells to fill his hunger, and when he saw that he was about to climb to the tip of the tree, he stepped on a dry branch, and his body began to fall, and the process of falling was enough to write a poem, and those sentences should shine with the silver light from the gap between the trees. Finally, Jibb landed smoothly on the roof of the wooden canopy under the tree, and then slid to the ground, and before he could feel whether he was alive or in pain, His aunt beat him hard with the bamboo stick. Gibb's flashing verses were all gone, and he cried out, "Amu! The voice mourned.
Gibb rushed to the flat slate with the pain of flesh and skin, and he stood alone on the flat slab, his blurry tear eyes so eager to see the distant mountain, and the towering water cypress tree made a sound in the wind that a big tree should have in the wind. Gibb's heart was so quiet that the night made him shimmer.
For several days in a row, Gibb sat alone on the flat slate, he was waiting for Ergu, he had never missed a man as much as he did now. He wanted to tell Ergu that when he fell from a walnut tree, he saw the village in the moonlight as bright as white hair. But he did not wait for Ergu, and the verses were slowly blown away by the wind.
In the evening, the flat slabs were full of people, talking loudly about the grain, potatoes and buckwheat. Their voices were as rough as the earth, and when they laughed, it was enough to make the moon hide in the clouds and not come out for half a day. Gibb felt lonely, and he sat between them like a tree full of raindrops, ready to rain at any moment. There was a child who grabbed the corner of his coat with his dark hand and pulled him to frolic, and as if he didn't hear it, his eyes were fixed on the distant mountains.
Mu Si opened his stone-like rough hand and pressed it against Gibb's forehead, not feeling his brain heat in the headache. Mu Yao opened a pair of hands to Gibb's aunt and drew a bird flying away from Gibb's chest.
For the next three days, as soon as the sun set, Gibb's aunt carried a bowl of rice grains and set an egg on it to the flat stone slab to cry out for Gibb. Her voice was hoarse like a jackal's wailing, and the landscapes of the seven-day village knew she was calling his son home...
On the morning of the fourth day, When Gibb woke up from his dream, his aunt brought him the bowl of rice and white-boiled eggs. Gibb ate carefully, and in a trance he heard a bone-chilling sound in his ears, and he ran as if summoned to the flat slate, and an eagle glided from the clear sky, its wings so smooth and graceful. Gibb stood on the flat slab, and he held out a hand to the eagle and imagined a handful of buckwheat for the palm of his hand.