Text: Xia Bing
You don't know how warm it is when I pick it up. Its round black bean-like eyes rolled around, as if asking me, "Where are you going to hold me?"
I just glanced at it quickly, and then looked away. However, you really don't know what kind of nuanced touch its warm body gives to my hands. All of a sudden, a series of thoughts about life flooded my mind. In the streets, the man who rode his bicycle to the village to collect chickens waited patiently. He put a small orchid that had just been rolled at the corner of his mouth, held a matchbox in his left hand, twisted a match in his right hand, wanted to scratch it, and asked me with a slanted eye: "How many years have you been raising this chicken?"
Honestly, I didn't care what he said. When his words ran into my ears, they lacked the effect they deserved. I can't even understand the exact meaning of this sentence. I only cared about the body temperature of this Luhua chicken. This body temperature, through the palm of my hand, is so resolute and natural, bit by bit, every wisp, penetrates into my body. I was surrounded by the body temperature of this chicken. I can only notice these.
The man may have seen my reluctance, struck a match and lit the little orchid, took a sharp breath, threw the match stalk, and said, "Why don't you take it back, I'll go." He kicked the back mount of the bike, and the chickens that had been hanging quietly on the handlebars cooed and croaked, and some of them fluttered. Feathers one by one, fluttering in the sun.
I stretched out one hand and rubbed my eye sockets, as if squinted by the dust formed by the chickens' fluttering. The reed chicken in his arms moved, changed to a more comfortable position and curled up. Its warm breath hit me regardless of it. For a moment, I was a little hesitant - should I tell my mom about it? Mom's resolute eyes flashed in front of my eyes. I thought of the mischievous and even malicious behavior of this reed chicken—as soon as someone entered the yard, it would unexpectedly rise into the air, peck a few times on the person's head and face, and then flee. The horror was settled, and no one could figure out where it jumped out and where it was hiding now. Not only outsiders, but even their own family members are not spared, as if Luhua Chicken is showing off some peerless martial arts. Although it is no more than a blood blister the size of a grain of rice, it is enough to be terrifying. Every time this prank is staged, the people who are pecked are annoyed, we can't cry or laugh, Luhua Chicken is very calm, there is nothing to do afterwards, what should I do. If this is the third, my mother finally couldn't bear it anymore and said categorically: "Sell it!"
So, when I heard the shouts of collecting chickens in the streets, my mother first called people to wait, and then caught the chickens with me. We quacked the chickens in a yard, went to the upper room, climbed the wall, and drilled the firewood hole, as if the Japanese devils had entered the village. After some pursuit, we finally captured it. So, the Luhua chicken was held in my arms. It's also strange, in his arms, he has completely lost that kind of obedient appearance, and he is so docile and well-behaved that he is like the most obedient chicken in the world.
So, when it was a child, its bits and pieces, all came to my mind. In 1981, my mother just transferred back to the village to teach, and fed more than a dozen chickens, a year passed, except for selling one or two roosters, most of the hens survived, and one by one grew fat and strong, the feathers were smooth, and they ran all day long in the yard. In that era when sorghum flour and cornmeal were the staple food and meat had to be supplied by ticket, these chickens allowed our family to enjoy the delicious taste of eggs every once in a while, of course, it was limited, and those eggs accumulated became the family's oil, salt, sauce and vinegar, and became the tuition and book fees of our younger brothers and sisters. So when the whole family saw them enter the house, they just blasted them out in a friendly way, reluctant to move. Luhua chicken is one of the chickens that lay the most eggs every day in my family, and has always been proud of its achievements, unlike the big yellow chicken, once it lays eggs, it will shout again and again, lest the world do not know. What's even more commendable is that when feeding, Luhua chicken is always the last to pick and eat, and when it sees which chicken is very domineering to grab food, it will quickly come forward and peck it as a punishment, just like a "chicken police". And the eight or nine chickens in a yard also obeyed its "command" very much, and none of them resisted. This Luhua chicken is not like other chickens, it doesn't get into trouble in the house, but it is stubborn and does not change its temperament of pecking when it sees people, but it has been repeated three times and has not restrained. It is said that it is a fault, the merit is a merit, and no matter how great it is, the merit should still be affirmed. And there is no merit, there is always hard work, right? However, it seems that I will not be able to save it this time.
I stood in the alley, thinking. I can't see the streets and alleys clearly, I can't see the man collecting the chickens clearly, and I can't see the Luhua chicken in my arms. The only thing I can see clearly is the reed chicken's former vividness. The way it runs around the courtyard with its friends, the way it walks leisurely as if no one is around, and the way it jumps onto people's heads...... If I ask my mother for love again, maybe I can change its fate?
The thought just flashed through my mind, and it didn't turn into action. Man, many times, unpredictable. One of your choices is a big deal. Just like at this moment, we can easily decide the fate of a chicken. Mom and I worked together to cause the chicken's life to change. Apparently, it was sent somewhere, along with the other chickens that had been taken away, and became a delicacy on people's tables. It's almost a certainty. They no longer have the right to lay eggs, only the meaning of being eaten is left. I think that even a chicken should have a reasonable way of survival. In fact, what can I, an 18-year-old who has not yet come out of the family, do? I have no choice but to obey.
I handed it to the man with my own hand. Then, I watched as he expertly hung the reed chicken head down on the handlebars of the bicycle. It chirped sharply and fluttered violently, causing the chickens hanging on the handlebars to stir one after another, screaming and fluttering, and the feathers flew in the air. I am like a clay stake, pestle there......
If I could, I would rather go back in time, then, Luhua chicken is still in my arms. I hugged it tightly. Its warm breath passed through my hands and reached the bottom of my heart. What happens next? I think of the end of the movie "Xiao Wu": Xiao Wu is handcuffed to a telephone pole by the police, and the police walk away. Xiao Wu looked at passers-by, and passers-by looked at Xiao Wu. Passers-by pointed. At this time, a space that can be widely imagined has emerged. In this space, what will happen to Xiao Wu? The choreographer doesn't say anything, let us think about it. In the same way, what will happen to Luhua chicken? We can also think as we like. It's just that I haven't figured it out yet. That's it.
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