#Youth is not the same #One midsummer day, at five o'clock in the morning, I was like a spring, and a carp jumped up from bed. I put on my clothes three times and five times, quietly pulled open the door, and flew towards the countryside outside the community on a bicycle.
The path is sprinkled with dappled tree shadows and a faint moonlight. I was accompanied by freshly awakened trees, slightly salty winds, glassy blades of grass, damp earthy smells, crisp finches, crickets still rapping...
Riding to the Pegasus Bridge, the trees on the side of the road are getting taller and more lush. The sound of water babbling and frogs in the Songhua River is full of mosquitoes, and mosquitoes are clustered together, like a dark cloud floating on my head and bombarding my ears. I lifted my head and let the moonlight fall on my cheeks.
In the night sky, some large birds flew roughly and recklessly, their rich feathers flickering in the moonlight with a vague white light. Several bats perform flying skills in the air at will.
Spiders make webs in the night, and a spider silk crosses the cement road, but it can net the wind, the sand and dust, the mosquitoes, and the mosquitoes. I, the big worm in the world, rode like the wind in the stunned eyes of the spider.
The skyline began to turn white and flushed. A few early bees, briskly kissing dew-stained flowers, and a few black butterflies with blue spots on their wings danced among the flowers.
I looked at the still gray ground and saw a large swarm of ants rolling forward at a rapid pace. The number is at least a few hundred, maybe thousands, the front does not see the head, the back does not see the tail, rolling forward.
The bicycle bumped on the tattered cement road, and suddenly, like the door song of a concert, a crisp sound came out of the canopy, first a cicada, then two, three... More and more cicadas joined in, as if from the flute, to the erhu, the violin, and then the ensemble, regardless of the situation, it spread out like that. The sound of cicadas, one moment gentle and low, one moment high-pitched agitation, one moment like "noisy cutting miscellaneous bullets", the next like "big beads and small beads falling on the jade plate". The loud cicada chirping always carries an uninhibited wildness. This loudness is due to standing high, or because of the sound, I don't know. The cicadas plucked the darkness from the ground, got up the branches, and lay there to eat and drink dew, and sang by the wind. Its wings are not used to rush the road, but only to escape. Hearing the sound of my wheels colliding with the ground, the cicada "chirped" and flew away, flying from one willow tree to another.
A feral cat moved in the same direction as me, and in the distance ahead of me was a group of uncultured rats rummaging through the bins. The cat, sheltered by trees and grass, walked and stopped, always in the direction of the rats. It began to pound at five or six meters, charging diagonally toward the rat's escape route, and finally pounced on the penultimate rat. I thought the cat had caught its prey, but when it stood up, its mouth was empty and its side was empty. The penultimate mouse was blocked by the cat and turned around and fled in the opposite direction.
The cat-attacked rats ran to the edge of the Yuanhua River, tens of meters away, paused, rested quietly, bathed, drank water, and did morning exercises. With a wide view and no obstruction, this is the safest place. The catastrophe they had just experienced was as if nothing had happened.
On the riverbank, a row of anglers sat firmly on the fishing platform, skillfully throwing them together, pulling up not only the catch, but also a calm and calm of the years.
Swallows fly close to the surface of the water. The mynahs came again, hovering in the air more than ten meters away from me, noisy. They looked like they had just been bathed, their feathers fresh and shimmering with a tile blue glow. The fishy hot smell of aquatic grass in the river rises vigorously. Crabs roam the river beach. Small fish crackle and spit in the shallow water by the river, or frolic among the grass. Or foraging in pairs, or courtship mating. A fat frog emerges from the turbid waves in the middle of the river in a standard breaststroke and swims freely toward the shore, its legs making some beautiful ripples.
Riding to the end of the cement road, I stopped. There was silence all around, and there were no tall trees, only low bushes and several unnamed wildflowers. Hey! Needless to say, it's a great place to watch the sunrise. However, before I could see the sun, I saw a green snake sitting there with a panicked frog in its arms, just like me, waiting to see the sunrise. When I was a child, I was particularly afraid of snakes, so I stood still in fear and did not dare to move at all. The snake probably saw that I was a giant who was actually shocked by it, and stayed there without a trace, spitting out the core while shaking its head at me, flaunting its might.
Of course, the most eyeless thing is the dog couple. When I first came, the greyhound was lying hard on the yellow dog's ass, arching its body, and its eyes were looking at me, full of hostility, making me feel that its gaze was cold, like a sword as soft as water and as sharp as the wind, almost cutting off my head. Half an hour passed, and on the way back, I saw in the distance that the greyhound had come down, but the dog couple was still ass-to-butt connected. When I approached the couple, they parted, each on the ground on his legs, bent over, shamelessly licking his bright red, wet thing, and posing with a very satisfied look.
The few dogs wandering around the couple seemed to be jealous, barking for a while until they blasted The Sun Daddy out of his nest. So, the industrious farmhouse began to work at sunrise, inhaling the freshness of the morning, looking at the dazzling light, driving the beloved buffalo and walking on the path hidden in the grass. The cow is free, stepping on solid ground, taking a calm step, moving its mountain-like body, and from time to time it looks down and eats the dew-drenched tender grass, chewing vigorously...
Tired of riding, I sat on the stones on the edge of the square and rested. In the square, men and women, young and old crops came here, some walking leisurely, some sitting and resting, some looking around, some chatting and talking about the past, leisurely. More is the voluntary formation of the conscious, with melodious music dancing or relaxed or unrestrained square dance, showing leisure and leisure. The morning wind blows, the flowers and plants sway gently with the wind, as if dancing with the music, and I covet the freshness of this moment. #Rural ##Rural Things##Rural Things#Rural Things##农村气息 #
