XiaoWen: She slapped this
From Pod Literature
Author: Pod
Wind and rain came out of friends' houses. The countryside on a summer night, full of stars, full of frogs. The wind wrapped its arms around rain's shoulders.
The wind said: Live in this land, you can live for two hundred years.
Rain said: Don't be lyrical, I'm going to be trapped.
The wind started the car, and Rain sat in the back and said he was going to sleep for a while. The car left the village lane and drove onto the road. The road is dark, and where the street lamp hits, the white expanse is white, and countless flying insects are dancing wildly.
The wind said: When we retire, we will come to live in this country. I made a fish pond and had nothing to do with a few old buddies fishing.
The rain squinted, not squeaking.
The wind said: I just know, you are not good at this.
Rain said: As far as you men are concerned, you men have this leisure. If it doesn't happen, you first think about having fun.
The wind said: Did you load the cucumber on the car just now, it is really delicious, the thing bought in the market cannot be compared with this self-produced one.
Rain hmmm, just listen, not distracted.
Wind and rain have been together for almost a year, from the initial braised peppers to the current boiled cabbage, not surprisingly, it is a process of time. Hot to flat, not intentional, living has become like this. Don't say no love, love, still love, love and no love seem to have nothing to do with each other. It's two people together, eating, sleeping. In the past, I also experienced such things with others, and now I change people, I think it is different, but I still experience the same thing. Knowing this, it's better not to be so troublesome. This is the heart of the rain.
The wind was still thinking about his fish pond. When I used to be with others, I thought; now I change the pillow person, I still think. Once upon a time and now, the same food was kept in the refrigerator at home, just a different person who put the food. This is a change of people, is not the taste of those foods also changed. The wind is not sure, the days have changed faces, the new bottle contains old wine, should be drunk or drunk.
There was no movement in the back, the rain should be asleep, or the rain just didn't want to talk, and the wind also shut up. In the evening, I drank a few sips of shochu, home-brewed in the countryside, and the energy was great. Because I wanted to drive, I didn't want to drink it, and without persuasion, it was also too strong. Anyway, this country road is deserted at night, so I coveted the cup. Now that a few hours had passed, the wind felt that he was still a little excited. And sighed, how can everything be good in this country.
The car drove out of the way, the wind stopped, and it was convenient to go down. Stand for a little longer and wake up your mind. Looking out, he couldn't see anything, between heaven and earth, big and vast, and he was suddenly confused for a little while. Is it alive, like a tree in the darkness. It's just a tree, living in one place all your life, and people floating around, not accurately.
The wind gets on the car, and the car drives at a uniform speed. The car window was open, and the wind reached out of the window with one hand, making a scratching motion. Some poets said that it is a good idea to call out the breeze two or two. When he was a child, his classmate had a younger sister who came home one day with a bunch of snow and asked her mother to steam steamed steamed buns for her, saying that she wanted to eat steamed buns too much. Wind thought, not knowing what this wind would make the child think. Thinking of the child, subconsciously, the wind thought, maybe rain was thinking about her child now.
When I thought about it, the wind suddenly felt that something was wrong. Behind the seat, it was also too quiet. As soon as he looked back, the hair stood up at once. What about people, what about people? He kicked the brakes, and the sound was awakened by the screams of the car in the night. The wind had a broken brain for a while, and a big living person was gone, and he didn't even find it.
The wind quickly turned the car around, and the problem must have been when it was convenient for him to get out of the car. It's been at least half an hour since the car was out. Oh my God, oh my God, what the hell, throwing a woman in the mountains in the middle of the night, my mom. The wind turned on all the lights of the car, and all the way, the body was lying on the steering wheel, the eyes were fixed on the road, and the hand holding the steering wheel came out of the water.
Finally I saw the figure, and the wind was another foot brake. This sound was sharper, directly drilling a hole in the night. The wind got out of the car and ran towards the figure. It was rain. The wind blew up and was pushed away by the rain. Rain stared at the wind, one arm was lifted up, and with the power of the flood, a slap was slapped firmly on Rain's face.
The wind was a little dazed, covering his face and watching the rain. Then he took the rain in his arms. I'm sorry, but you scared me to death. The rain cried out, and I was going to be scared to death. The wind said, yes yes yes, yes I was scared to death, sorry, sorry. The two of them hadn't hugged like this in a long time. No one's summer nights, empty mountains and wilderness like an empty human world, one person will be afraid, two people will not.
The wind pulled the rain toward the car. The wind pulls the car door and presses the rain to the co-driver's seat, you still sit here, I want to watch, can not be lost. The rain broke into laughter, and if you lose me again, I will leave you. The wind said, I don't think about anything in the future, I think of you.
About the Author:
Dou Xianjun (Dou Pod), female, currently living in Heilongjiang, engaged in prose and poetry creation, since the 1990s began to publish poetry and prose works. His works have appeared in many publications such as Shilin, Novel Forest, Petroleum Literature, Years, Guangxi Literature, Tokyo Literature, Taihang Literature, Juvenile Literature, Chinese Prose, and Presence. Some works have been selected for multiple prose anthologies. The masterpiece "No Heart Grass" won the "PresenceIst Prose Award" of the 2012 Chinese Folk First Prose Award. The collection of essays on "No Heart Grass" won the Harbin Swan Literary and Art Award in 2016.
Editor: Ma Xuemin
One point number Qingwei Heze creative base