zero
Dry weather. In the summer and autumn, the rainy season in the province from the end of June to the beginning of July in the normal year has ended one after another, but this year is a long period of high temperature and little rain, forming a drought. In July, except for Xiangxi, other counties and cities received little precipitation, with 54 counties and cities receiving more than 80% less rainfall per month, and six counties and cities receiving no rainfall. Twenty-eight counties and cities south of Xiangzhong were the fewest in the same period of history, twelve counties and cities ranked second, and nine ranked third; nineteen counties and cities had the longest period of continuous rainlessness in the same period of history, and forty-six counties and cities had weather with a total rainfall of less than one millimeter for more than 20 consecutive days, and drought developed rapidly and spread throughout the province. Precipitation continued to be low in most parts of the province in August.
One
Wangyun Town has not rained for at least four months, and like the surrounding towns, counties and cities, Wangyun Town has already opened its thirsty and chapped lips. During the double-grab season, we harvested a few acres of rice paddies near the riverbank. After the harvest, we stood on the gray-brown land in the afternoon and saw that the towering peaks were still verdant. The sky was transparent, with no flowers, no wet clouds, no rain. The village chief walked into the river with his son, who loved to catch sparrows. He plunged the sparrow into the water, and the sparrow could not flap its wings and drowned in the river. He took another one out of his pocket. The village chief, surrounded by barefoot water, walked up to us, and in the reflection of the river he was with us like a defeated officer in the blue sky. As the sun set lower and lower, the village chief said, "Look up at The Cloud Mountain, a few of you." Go to the Wishing Well, talk about the situation in the village, and see if you can ask for some rain. When he finished, he wrinkled his eyes, covered his forehead with his hands, and opened the wings of his nose—looking at the sun with an expression that made people look uncomfortable. The sun is setting low, dazzlingly floating on the riverbed.
Qingzhu said that it was superstition and useless. Yes, it's superstition, it's useless. We moved to the intersection where the cool breeze passed, away from the golden afterglow.
What do you know? What do you know at such a young age? Qingzhu, have you ever been to Wangyun Mountain?
Never been.
Never been there—the sparrow in the hands of the village chief's son suddenly broke free of the black palms full of dander and mud, skimmed over the water, and flew to the place where the dense bushes of thorns and weeds on the other side met the water, interrupting the village chief's speech. Haven't been there Do you know if it's superstition or real?
Qingzhu said, then have you been there?
I haven't been there either. That's why I let you go. Give it a try. Don't try how you know if it's true or not. Besides, since it is called the Wishing Well, there must be something famous in it, or it is called a fart.
His son saw that the sparrow was gone, and he cried and burst out of his teeth. Shut your boar mouth! The village chief yelled and beat him. The back of his hand twitched his mouth. He pulled a transparent rope from his arms, fishing like a fishing line, and rolled up the ball of thread in his hand. His intentions were revealed in a moment: the sparrow was pulled out of a clump of gray-green fire thorns, touched the water grass at the tip of the water wing, made a cry, and returned to the feet of the child with an open mouth. One after the other, they dragged the sparrow around the ancestral hall.
How many people have been to the Wishing Well is unknown. The Wishing Well is at the top of Wangyun Mountain, on the side of the white clouds, and has been for many years. After Wangyun Temple, its appearance is unusual, and it is no different from any southern well. The moss of the stone wall may indicate its age, but this one is not enough to make it a wishing well. It is named after the legend, but what the legend is, there is no way to examine, there is only one, and the conversation can be corroborated: as long as you speak to the wishing well, with a special set of words, say what you wish, and an egg-sized bubble will emerge from the bottom of the well, floating on the surface of the water, or slightly ruptured. Float, wish.
The village designated me, Qingzhu and Uncle Shi to go on the road. Or let's accompany Uncle Shi on the road. Uncle Shi is the most prestigious person near and far, and our task is to be his assistant and assist him in smoothly conveying his wishes.
We prepared salt, ropes, steel single-edged wood knives for weapons and tools, and dry food. Water and wine are indispensable. In the early morning, Uncle Shi brought a bowl of floating grass leaves to the three of them and told us to drink every drop. He told us that the recipe of the potion contained 25 herbs. Then we walked onto a path shrouded in bushes such as woolly firewood and camphor trees. The towering trees were far and near, obscuring each other. Ropes were tied around our waists, and the three of us were lined up in a line to avoid any of them rolling off the cliff in time. Don't get too close, lest one person lose his footing and the rest fall into trouble.
Two
The three men kept a certain distance and walked forward, about three meters a day. Wild plants on both sides of the path grow in arches, obscuring the sky, birds, daylight, hustle and bustle, and villages. Especially the line of sight. Like a pipe sealed on the seabed. Air is the material that breaks into the pipes, frozen in a dull, breathless space. The road has been airtight for many years. Poking through the shivering air, he cautiously moved forward on the path wrapped in the morning light, and the stone uncle at the front had been tripped by sudden vines and stones or the mud pit under the concave. He reminded the frightened young man behind him, caressed his bruised bronze cheeks, clenched his teeth when the pain came, and cursed loudly. However, it was he who volunteered to go ahead, saying that he was older, more experienced than the other two, and had made several trips to the mountains.
There is shade in the mountains that the village has never had before. Yet the three of them immediately experienced how the shadows that made summer so far away outside quickly turned into steamers.
On the other hand, the village where the three men left was also getting farther and farther away from them. The electric fans have been adjusted to the maximum level. When they missed farming, there was nothing to do, young people went out to work, and the old and young were sick and disabled at home waiting for dark. Wait for the rain. But when the rain didn't come, there was no way, and people pinned their hopes on the cool night. Come on, come on, cool wind, blow cool hot forehead. Just like the dying Heshun can't wait for the gambler's son to return from work, he hopes to call from another place.
Many years ago, Heshun had died. He didn't die during the New Year, and he didn't wait for his son's call. The following summer, when the rainy season brought about the flood season of the river, he laid down his big in the calm bend. Rapids rush down the river fish. Wash down the reservoir to stock fish. When it was almost dark, he lifted the basket with his left hand, carried it on his shoulder, and had to walk back from the river. He was going to cross the river.
The wooden bridge is not in place, and the dam is flooded with turbid yellow water. Heshun made the dam stand upright at one end and lower it towards the other end.
With a "snap" sound, the tail of the rod catches up with the place it wants to catch. And shun shun pole climb over the dam mouth. He repeated it three times in a row, and then had to follow the old path home. He got angry about taking a lot of wrongful roads, scolded his wife, and vented the rest of his anger on the fish. He threw the fish to the ground, not knowing whether he fainted or died, in short, the fish stopped twitching. Carp, grass carp, silver carp, white star seeds. Fully scaled and fried. The next day, the fish was still digesting, and Shun died in bed. People say that he shouldn't eat those fish, and he shouldn't fall to their death before eating them, those fish are strange fish, they are fish monsters, or at least one of them is a fish monster, and it is not dead before he can get out of the ghost.
One of his son's sons, his grandson, is now taken by his wife as their grandmother. One is 15 years old and one is 14 years old. One is the older brother, called Kobayashi, the younger sister is called Xiaozhu, and the green bamboo is heavy.
Three
I experienced the road up Wangyun Mountain and thought that Xiaozhu should be washing the family's clothes by the river. After she finished breakfast, she went to work. When the others had washed and gone, she sat on the stone and put her feet on the sand to dry. The egret stood not far from her, looking at the loach and small fish swimming in the shallow water, so it made her feel a little interesting. The feet dried up in a moment, because the sun was really big. I remember the time I stole sour peaches for her to eat, and she was sick for more than half a month and wanted to eat peaches, and the peaches were not yet ripe. I stole a few peaches and sneaked into the hallway where she was lying in the sun on a bamboo chair and gave her something to eat. She took a bite of acid and closed her eyes, which were very interesting to others. Now the wild fruits in the mountains are ripe, and they fall to the ground and rot, but we can't reach them on Wangyun Mountain. The thorn bowl we ate was only grown on the side of the road, and the boar's cry was closer than its. "As long as you have a guts to fight a tiger, you need to bring a pair of plates (coffins) to beat (wild) pigs", the wood knife is inserted in the knife box on the back of the waist, and it has not been drawn.
A cliff appeared in front of him. We arrived at a clearing, lawn, and were getting ready to rest and have lunch. Dried sweet potatoes, oatmeal and fried glutinous rice balls. After eating, the sun was overlooking the highest middle sky, and we couldn't find the way in all directions. There is a small spring flowing in the grass under the cliff to the fir forest that cannot be penetrated by the left view, and we only have one way to climb the cliff.
With your head tilted upwards, you can see the thick trunks that slope out of the cliff top. Uncle Shi said, "I'll climb up first and put the rope down." ”
He spit into the palm of his hand, rubbed his palms, and chose the starting point of the climb. He took the first step. Climbed to the middle of a maple tree. Crawl past smooth moss and dead kudzu vines. The people below have sore necks and can't feel their arms sore. Uncle Shi grabbed the small protruding tip of the rock, put his foot in a solid recess, and rose in a roundabout way. When he touched a tree strong enough, he hung himself and shouted easily at the lawn. When Uncle Shi sat down on a slightly larger bluestone to rest, the three of them sat down and had a few conversations:
"You say, monk, every time you go up the mountain, don't you have to climb like this?" Climbing consumed Uncle Shi's physical strength, so his voice seemed a little small, part of it floated into the sky, part of it scattered in the wind, and some of it fell into our ears.
"Take a break, don't waste your energy talking." Qingzhu said.
"Let's go up and I'll tell you which way the monk goes." I know how the monk did not go through this path. I'm familiar with legends, but I don't know how we can avoid long journeys in reality. The sun could not shine on us outside the shade of the trees, only torturing Uncle Shi who was stuck to the wall like a gecko. The surrounding dense forest of shrubs, trees, lodging plants, and mosses emits steam to torment us. So when Uncle Shi finally climbed up, all three of them were happy, and he stood on top and shouted, and tied the rope to the tree. When he lowered it, the rope was hung by branches or stones several times, and he had to pull it back and throw it again. The rope swung in the air in the shape of a snake. When he threw it to the third time, he hung a stone at the end of the rope and told us to dodge.
Hanging from the rope, we didn't dare look down. Uncle Shi called to be careful, and the next to hurry, no matter what he called, we climbed very slowly, but because we walked in a straight line, we quickly reached a height parallel to the big stone where Uncle Shi sat. We also found an eagle's nest in a pine tree where several kittens grew. If the eagle were nearby, it would mistakenly think that we were going to harm its family, and it would not hesitate to swoop down and peck our eyeballs. And we hung on the rope and couldn't fight back.
Continuing to rise, the sweat first wet the backs of the two people, followed by the front chest, arms, waist and abdomen, and collar. Uncle Shi above knelt on the ground, his gaze moving with the cliff at two points, and the salt flowers dyed white on the blue cloth undershirt that he did not know. Sweat crystallizes into salt, bites into the face, especially into the eyes.
When Uncle Shi exclaimed, the distance between the three was close enough to be touched. We asked him what had happened. "There's a wild boar." Uncle Shi's voice was filled with trembling. "Don't touch it!" Qingzhu said, "If you don't touch it, it won't take the initiative to bite you." The wild boar was approaching Uncle Shi, his ear pressed against the cliff wall, and I heard a low howl coming from his nostrils. It arches the ground and grass. Uncle Shi should pretend to be dead, he knew this, but he forgot to pretend to be dead, and suddenly ran. The boar then arched him off the bottom of the cliff.
Quickly sneaking back to the lawn, Uncle Shi was lying on the ground but not out of breath, and his brain plasma had been dried by the sun in this period of work under the cliff, looking even more oily. Dragging him back under the tree where he had originally eaten lunch, his eyes were wide open. The one in heaven seemed to be sleeping, and the whole valley was motionless, and there was not a sound of the wind, but its eyes called the sun were open like Zhang Fei. Pulling out the wood knife in Uncle Shi's knife box, we dug a small pit at the edge of the grass, smeared his eyes, and stuffed some of his brain plasma back. The wet cold of the soil under the tree was cold to the touch, and after we buried Uncle Shi, we used some soil and grass to rub the blood and sticky white oil on our hands, cut down a large bundle of branches, and piled them on the small mound to avoid the corpses being shaved out and eaten by some wild beast.
For example, the wild boar that commits murder on the cliff. It doesn't eat meat, but likes to arch everything that stands out. Fortunately, it had already gone, and after watching at the head of the cliff for half a day, there was no sign of any beast, so we withdrew the rope and drilled into the pipe again. This time, the knife was drawn and grasped in the hands of the two people, pressing against the skin of the air in front of them, and as they walked, they were silent, and this was the case. Wild boars and other beasts and birds roared and sang near and far, but they no longer endangered the two men going up the mountain.
Four
I think that if Uncle Shi had fallen down and pretended to be dead, he might not have died. But he didn't lie down and pretend to die, so he lost his old life. When I think of this, I always feel that Uncle Shi died a very unworthy death, you know, he is older than us, he has been in the mountains, hunted, and is proficient in witchcraft medicine, originally we were just his assistants. But he was not halfway through before he died. He died so quickly that before he died, I was about to tell him what I knew about the origins of the monks of the Wangyun Mountain Temple.
If Uncle Shi did not die, he would hear me say: There are only monks on Wangyun Mountain who go up the mountain and there are no monks who come down. The monks lived in simple houses like no other in the world, dressed in self-woven linen robes. At first, no one ever went to the top of Wangyun Mountain, and when the first monk looked at the 3,000-meter-high peak, he was alone. He should have set out from our way into the mountains, and along the way he may have encountered beasts, evil birds, poisonous snakes, spiders, or maybe not. He cut down the first tree at the top of the mountain, set aside the first plot, planted vegetables in the field, rested in the chanting of the scriptures in the wooden house, and called it a temple. He carved Buddhas, Bodhisattvas, Vajradharas, and Arhats. Another day, another man came up and shaved here. Before the death of the first pioneers, another group of believers went, who inherited the unfinished task and converted there. Handed down from generation to generation, Wangyun Temple has become small in scale, passing down the legend about itself, and has the power to make this legend known to future generations. It has built two or three sturdy tile houses as the main hall of the temple, surrounded by all the equipment that supplies the lives of the temple people. Tile kilns, brick kilns, vegetable beds. Looms, weaving rooms. The temple is divided into cooks, vegetable gardens, plasterers, stonemasons, carpenters, weavers... Unlike ordinary temples, this small temple on the top of this deep hill has no abbot and has never had pilgrims, and they have cooperated to feed all the monks here after a careful and gentle division of labor, but they never talk to each other until they die of old age and illness. However, it is said that they believe in something called "Buddha", or something else, or God. Because the monks are so mysterious and there are no scriptures to spread, outsiders cannot detect them doing all this, and the reason for all this makes them more mysterious. The Wishing Well may be one of the countless images radiating from this mysterious center.
Five
Qingzhu kept sweeping his shoulder with his palm, and I asked him if he could stop, and he said no. In the sweltering mountain forest, mosquitoes roar in your ears, some of them have just sucked uncle Shi's corpse blood, why let you watch a person sweep his shoulder without stopping. I suppressed my irritability and said with a thought-and-think expression, "Qingzhu, don't pat your shoulders." There has been no dandruff for a long time. ”
I can't stop, I don't dare to stop, I'm afraid as soon as I stop, I'm afraid uncle Shi will follow us.
Then let me go ahead of you.
I didn't dare to go behind, I was afraid that Uncle Shi would follow us.
Uncle Shi will not follow us. He was definitely walking in the first. He's starting to walk first, so come on the back.
Although I couldn't be sure whether the Wishing Well really had a spirit, I knew that if I had to watch Qingzhu swing his arm repeatedly and regularly, my fear would become deeper, my physical strength would be consumed faster, and it would be more difficult for the two of them to escape in the event of bad luck. How I thought Uncle Shi wasn't dead, how much I didn't want Uncle Shi to be dead. But he was dead. His body was buried by us under wet soil and blades of grass, under pine branches. His eyes were also buried in the dirt, and his knife was stuck in my waist, like a big cold hand against my back.
Six
Now, I walked in front, qingzhu was behind, and Uncle Shi sent his ghost to swing on the surface of the big leaf, waiting in the shadows for us to bring him news. It was dark and two living people spread plastic film in the clearing between a large tree and a large rock. With a wood knife in his hand, dry food resting behind his head. Before sunset, I stood towering over the rocks and couldn't see the cooking smoke of the village. The reflection of everything that used to appear in the river, I did not see that day. We were far away from familiar places.
Seven
Frightened and tired, the young people on the mountain stuffed something and began to sleep, and the bottom of the mountain was the moment when the lifeless people regained their vitality. Kobayashi picked up the well water from Shanshu Bay and let his grandmother take the first breath of cool air, and then he didn't know where to play cards. Xiao Zhu cut the pig grass, and was ordered to open the stationery box to do his homework, but he did not let it be done, and let her call her brother back first. There was a note in the stationery box with three words written: I. love. you. The word in the middle is the smallest. The partition is wide, crooked, and if you think about it, it is written with the left hand. Whose left hand is this left hand? Xiao Zhu was in the second grade, and she rubbed the note. Put it in your pants pocket and go out the door to call my brother home. She shouted three times in the alley next to the old house of wen yuan's family, and with her loud voice, she did not know which direction to go: "Brother, Grandma wants you to come back." ”
After making the night dinner, Xiao Zhu said to the back room, "Grandma, there is not much rice, and the night meal is cooked porridge." ”
Well, tonight I'll cook porridge first, and tomorrow I'll tell your brother to go and crush rice. She said yes. However, her abacus was the clearest, and the valley in the flat barrel was also
Not much anymore. The sky is dry, the late rice has not been laid, the early rice harvested a few quintals and more grain, and there is nothing growing in the soil.
"It's not raining yet, it's just grazing." Grandma said. She said to Kobayashi, "Tomorrow you will pick up a few liters of wheat and come back to the street to make some noodles." She said to Xiaozhu, "If someone asks you why you don't eat and eat noodles, you don't say that we don't have rice, you say, noodles are delicious." We thought the noodles were delicious. ”
She added, "Kobayashi, tomorrow, you will first go to mill rice, and then you will exchange a few liters of noodles on the street to eat." ”
Xiao Zhu asked her, "The village chief asked Uncle Mason to go to Wangyun Mountain to ask for rain." Why did they go to Wangyun Mountain to ask for rain? ”
"What's the use of asking for it now, Li Qiu has been standing for so long." Ask for it to go early, and now ask for what use, ask for the fall to step on the mud to eat. ”
"Originally, if you had asked for it, you wouldn't have grown grass, but wheat, peanuts, soybeans, sweet potatoes and other things would have to grow longer."
"I used to ask for it."
"Didn't they go to the Wishing Well?" I heard that the Wishing Well is very magical. ”
"No matter how well you wish, it won't come to us." Grandma said. Then, the expression of memory appeared on the old face, and she told the past that had nothing to do with her, but in Xiaozhu's eyes, she said it as if she had experienced it herself.
According to her, this wishing well was not originally on Wangyun Mountain, nor in other dangerous environments, just next to the village, on the left side of the riverbank. Now on the dressing table, there is also a stele, densely packed with inscriptions, recording the cultivation and spiritual deeds of the Wishing Well. Xiao Zhu opened his eyes wide and heard this fresh story. She also often saw the black stone, which she thought was laid out there for people to pound their clothes. The water smoothed the inscription, and the stone surface was smooth as a mirror, and there was no glyph or pattern in sight. People praise and hope that the water of this well will not grow old and dry, and will be passed down from generation to generation until it dries up one day.
The story doesn't say whether it was a rainy year or if the weather was equally dry. When the man who rushed to the well early in the morning to beat the first burden pressed the barrel into the water, the sky was not bright, and a blood-red scene appeared in front of his eyes. The well water turned blood red. Stunned, he spread the news. Men and women, young and old, came in person, and they missed the birth of the spectacle, so witnessed the evolution of the spectacle. pack
Including people from other villages. The perimeter of the well is inevitably drained. People saw the well water slowly crawling from the meadow through which it used to flow to the river, and the red water near the left bank of the river flowed with the waves, and it did not fade away for a long time.
After the well water turned seven red, the grass around it also began to turn from green to red, like pig blood deliberately sown by someone. By the eighth day, there were few onlookers left, and they were irresistibly afraid of this evil change and fled. The largest landlord in the village also abandoned his newly started manor and left his family to avoid trouble. The bamboo used to build the manor is piled up horizontally and vertically on the shore, in the Hengwo River, and down the river. People can no longer see bubbles at the bottom of the well, the water flow is getting smaller and smaller, and after another month, it finally dried up.
On that day, the village was quieter than ever. Countless laborers picked up hoes, wielded shovels, and went all out to dredge the springs. But except for the turbid yellow-red liquid oozing from the mud cracks in the four walls, the well was like a dead man's eyes that were no longer wet.
Mei Shan placed on her magic instrument, chanted the incantation, and promised to punish the whole village in exchange for the rebirth of the Wishing Well. She asked the whole village to line up the highest level of the field, and then urged her only remaining mana to give up having a clear will, and to flip down, down, and up from the field together. Roll over the flat ground and fall down the next level of rice paddy. On the lowest flat ground, she counted the numbers, ordered the transport of dead bodies and wounded, and asked for a stern lord to be gracious.
The day before the well water was bleeding, the largest landlord had just ordered all the long-term workers to cut down the bamboo forest in the back mountain and build him a manor that was majestic and beautiful enough. The old man advised him that there was a legend in the bamboo forest that the gods lived, that all the bamboo had its own spirit, and besides, it was impossible to use up so much bamboo. The landlord said, cut! When you can't finish it, put it in the river and float down. Drift down to sell to downstream docks. Grandma said that when the long worker cut the bamboo, the knives and knives were dark red fractures. As she spoke, she showed a frightened expression, which made Xiaozhu listen and feel a kind of magic.
Perhaps this incident happened not long after the monk entered the mountain, according to Grandma Xiaozhu, even the front heel and back foot. In her memory, after the monk went up the mountain, he naturally dug a well to drink water and plant bamboo to eat bamboo shoots. A few decades later, new rumors and speculations led people to believe that the well where the monks draught was the new dwelling place where the new gods and spirits lived. Because it also bubbles up, because there is also bamboo behind Wangyun Temple, although it is moso bamboo.
Eight
We haven't seen anything yet, we've just reached the mountainside. At the moment when the sun went down, the two people heard the bells coming from the mountains, the pine waves lowered their heads, and the white clouds fell low. If we hadn't known that it could only come from the top of the mountain, we wouldn't be able to tell where it came from, because the peaks overlapped and echoed, like there was sound everywhere, or nowhere.
The place where the two men had chosen to sleep was slightly open, flat, drier than elsewhere, and had less chance of insects and ants invading. Try to sweep away the wet rotten leaves and spread them with fresh fern leaves, hay and pine branches.
The next morning, it was the sun again. Illuminate the eyes and illuminate the red envelopes on the body. Rubbed some wine in the wound, a little tingling. In addition to the torment of mosquitoes and flies, last night was enough peace.
The dew naturally drenched the clothes and hung them on the branches of the trees, facing the mountain wind and the sun, and after drying, the two put them on and continued to go up the mountain.
On the way, a small white leaf tree, as if it had deviated from the straight line when it was rubbed by a wild boar or other beast, was tied by a rope and hung on the nearest large tree, so that it did not fall to the ground. It must have been the rope of a certain monk, who was tied to the trunk of a tree on his way up the mountain to the temple.
It was almost dark when we reached the place we had in mind, and the strongest cool evening wind blew in, five or six hours later than estimated. The last stretch of road shows stone steps. On the side of the road is a low clump of yellow-green moso bamboo, tall fir trees abound, and green vegetable fields lined up in the sun. The road is tortuous but smooth, and it is obvious that people often walk. At the turn, a hut jumps out from time to time, with yellow walls, black tiles, a middle gate, a small door on the left and right, a window on the side of the door, and a light in the window. I don't know what oil was burned to emit it. Occasionally bumping into a man, looking at us, standing bare-headed to the side, sideways to give way. Asked how far he was to reach the top of the mountain, he was bare-headed, but did not speak, bending down to make a "please go forward" gesture. Qingzhu asked, "Are they all dumb?" ”
No, I replied to him, they were not talking.
Then why don't you talk, is it who doesn't let them talk?
No, I replied to him, it was they themselves who did not speak.
The two finally saw Wangyun Temple. About 30 steps,
The house built of green bricks has a total of three rooms, one large and two small. If judged by the pattern of the temple under the mountain, then the middle is the main hall, and the two sides are the side halls. But it is not a temple under the mountain, and there is no plaque or inscription under the eaves, and what it is called is just a delusion.
But for the sake of convenience, let's listen to our speculations. Entering the main hall, various wooden statues were arranged in turn, but neither of them could recognize each other. The main hall is dark and lonely, and the side hall is lined with several rough tables and chairs. Not daring to stay long, out of the back door of the main hall, the two came to the door of an earthen brick room that they had seen earlier, and saw the light. The moon shone in a vegetable field and the dark green pressed against the ground.
There was a knock and the door opened. "Can we stay here for one night?" I hurried to ask, but he closed the door, and without force, slowly and lazily clipped the light that squeezed out the crack in the door.
Fuck, what kind of monk is this, this is still a monk who does good deeds to accumulate de Pudu sentient beings. Look at their dying looks. Qingzhu immediately scolded away, he couldn't help it, he was already tired of this rain-seeking action.
I cut off his scolding, then shouted the request through the door: "We are here to ask for rain." Can you tell us where the Wishing Well is? ”
A bald head of about 30 years old walked out the door. He led us on a walk, carrying an oil lamp made of bamboo tubes. The oil of the plant burned in the bamboo tube, and he held up the light in front. He took us to the well, left the lamp there, and pointed to the firewood pile behind the wall. He let us spend the night in the pyre.
Facing the Wishing Well, we remembered that we didn't know everything that Uncle Shi was familiar with. The biggest memory we have of Uncle Shi now is that he is dead. The prayers he was skilled in were not confided to us on the verge of death, and we were not told to memorize the prayers beforehand, because Uncle Shi was not told that he would die halfway through.
It must have been a series of strange, rhyming, awkward phrases. There are also footwork, dancing hands, strange expressions, opening and closing eyes, and God knows what kind of ghost it is. The two men sat by the well, feeling unprecedented chagrin, and the water of the well was within reach of the lamp. The sky is also close at hand.
The two men did not make a sound. Finally, Qingzhu spoke, and he said, "If only Uncle Shi hadn't died." ”
"Gollum-P" Aotake finished speaking, and they heard: Well One
A bubble bubbles up – bursting on the surface of the water. This is an appropriate response to Aotake's words, telling him not to realize this wish.
"Wishing Well, please rain a little." We don't know how to talk, so we say so, and if you hear it, it's going to rain a little. We haven't rained there for four months. I reckoned. Qingzhu brought the lamp close to the surface of the water, and the two people watched the whole process of the bubble rising. Oh, the bubbles are rising. It floated and floated on the water, and the lights followed it. It floats. Two pairs of eyes moved. "It's not broken." I turned to Qingzhu to explain. "I'm not blind, I see it." Qingzhu said that he was not blind, and if I could see him, he would not be able to see.
I'm stressing that. I say.
The hand trembled, the bottom of the bamboo tube light touched the water, and the small ripples spread, spread, diffuse. Diffused. Bubbles dangle to the walls of the well. It shook to the wall of the well and broke it.
Nine
There is a cold light in the sky that illuminates everything that is asleep. The temperature was dropping rapidly, they were unaware at first, and then they woke up and felt the cold. The wind or the beast woke up the world. The moon shifted direction and landed on the monk's earthen roof. The front glowed, the branches of what tree it was. Those branches have no leaves, making one think that the moon is shining on it.
Qingzhu stepped forward and touched the branches, so he knew that it was a freshly formed ice cube. Winter is not suddenly coming, my heart suddenly feels colder than the skin. It must be that we don't understand the rules and talk nonsense. Qingzhu talked nonsense, and the punishment would come sooner or later, so now it came.
Qingzhu, we can't sleep here anymore. Let's go down the hill, and if we sleep any longer, we'll freeze to death.
Now down the hill? How do you get down? Let's eat something first, I'm starving.
Let's go down. Really, go ahead and forget it.
You are not freezing a cold. Let's go burn it and roast it.
The firewood pile where he had just taken refuge was moved to the large open space under the steps in front of the main hall. The ground was hard, the two men moved very lightly, and there was a moment of silence like the monk's mouth. They didn't feel that they were stealing firewood from the monks, but they were a little too little. Ignition, high fever on the branches. The pine resin secreted by the pine branches exploded with a fiery aroma, and the two sat on the edge of the fire ring and roasted the dried sweet potatoes and glutinous rice on the red embers.
The two men found nothing, and the memory reminded them that fear was inevitable. The fire burned to the knees and rubbed back and forth with your hands. His face was also cracked, and he had to stay away from the fire to sleep. The rapidly changing temperatures make it impossible to recall the sweltering heat you just experienced. For example, the corpse under the cliff is flowing yellow-red bodily fluids. Vegetarian carrion animals and insects continued to go until a fire burned the entire mountain, incinerating all animals and destroying the centuries-old business of the monks of Wangyun Temple.
They fell asleep in the midst of food and clothing, and for reasons that can be predicted, first the dead leaves scattered around the fire began to catch fire, and then the whole peak was a splendid sea of fire... No trees that have been cut down, no leaves that have been swept away, dead branches that no one has built. Wind from all sides... That's how the wildfires burned, and this time will be no exception.
Ten
When we woke up, we saw a ridiculous scene: a monk dressed in cloth was moving the cracked wooden statue of the main hall to the center of the large plain, surrounded by buckets of water. They were in a hurry, their expressions anxious, but they still didn't say a word. The wishing well is constantly bubbling, either in response to a jolt or from the air that comes down when the barrel draws water. We saw that it had bottomed out, and the monks in the long line were all closing their mouths and staring at the people closest to the well.
The fire basically burned all over the mountain. Firefighters rushed down the hill to watch the fire, and planes spilled down the waterfall, and it was not easy. The fire was so bright that smoke flew up and the sun was completely submerged. Until the fourth day, dark clouds came from the southeast direction, wrapped tightly around the mountain, and heavy rain poured down after lightning and thunder, and it rained all the way through the autumn.
The helicopter stepped down the cadres to investigate the cause of the fire. The monks had to open the blackened gate, put outsiders into the house, and bring them boiling water to make tea. The cadres said that the four days and four nights of mountain fires burned 320 acres of forest and destroyed the precious monuments of Wangyun Temple (God knows they had heard of Wangyun Mountain before), so those who caught the arson must be severely punished! Of course, the government will also allocate funds to repair the monuments of this Wangyun Temple, and maybe even carry out a tourism development. Isn't it? He asked the person next to him. They intensified their discussions all night long, and the monks slept peacefully.
During the day, the monks stepped up the repair of burned rooms and tools in the rain, placed idols in slightly dry places, and built another room for firewood. The officials had no choice but to return to the helicopter cabin. They go down the mountain, go to work, serve the official for a term, and benefit one party.
When the monks saw us, they were more indifferent than before, but they did not blame or assist in the arrest. They allowed sinners to shelter from the rain under the eaves, they did not allow them to come into the house for warmth, and they were very strange. When we finally finished eating our dry food, after stealing sweet potatoes from the temple for two days, we were discovered by the monk who planted the land, and he suddenly threw a scoop of dung on the two people, and the heavy rain poured, and the dung fell halfway down, and the two decided to slip down the mountain in ashes.
Eleven
It was finally raining, and it was falling very heavily. At that time, Xiao Zhu was dreaming of a person holding his hand on his thigh, learning to walk with a limp, one foot a few inches shorter than the other. Thus his route was crooked, like the handwriting of his left hand that he had received the day before. She couldn't see the man's face clearly, and secretly followed him to a courtyard. This yard is located in the factory area of the town's paper mill. She asked the man to sit down, and the man sat down. His body was straight, his face was on the side, and he bit his lower lip lightly, looking very shy. She wanted to get closer to see clearly, when suddenly there was a fire in the warehouse of the paper mill, the yellow and white paper burned red, the roof was emitting gray smoke, and a lot of black ash drifted to her head, face, and body. The workers who were working took the water from the nearest dyeing vat to extinguish the fire and poured most of the bucket on her. She naturally woke up to the sound of water. "Xiao Zhu, it's raining." Grandma told her that she understood that she was no longer in her dreams. Hazy wanted to turn over and sleep, but Grandma said, Xiaozhu, leaking rain, go and move an urn to catch the rain, otherwise it will fall on the bed.
Having fallen to the bed, to the small bamboo head, all three of them got up and brought the cowpeas hanging outside into the house. They saw that the fire on Wangyun Mountain was gradually weakening, and before dawn, they only saw the scorched black mountain. The rain washed out the ash against the rice paddies, which people said was fertilizer. But the fertilizer field could not be retained, and soon flowed into the river. At dawn, the wooden bridge was washed away again, and the rain crackled and hit the tiles. Mud nests were smashed out of the ground, and new rain washed away everything.
People say that the rain is enough to stop, but it doesn't stop and it goes all autumn. The village was a vast ocean, and the houses had been pushed away by the torrent before they could collapse. Of course, some people are scattered, and the corpses of pigs, horses, cattle and sheep are some more and some are fewer.
twelve
The rain made it very difficult for me and Qingzhu to go down the mountain, especially when climbing the cliff, the raindrops hit the completely exposed Tianling Cover, making our scalp tingle, the rain flowing down the river, and the sore eyes were difficult to open. We held long, soaked ropes in our hands, desperately trying to find irrelevant reasons to encourage each other when we couldn't hold on. We have not eaten for two days, so we say: Chairman Mao said that the dead happen often, and Chairman Mao said that we are the sun at eight or nine o'clock in the morning. We are not human beings, so we don't have to eat and we don't die.
On the cliff, we have seen that the small river in the village has become a big river, and the sound of the river is huge, and the sound of rain is even louder. Wangyun Mountain became the most expansive island, but there was not a single dead man on the water. (Because the bodies floating on the surface of the water have been fished ashore by the officers and soldiers, the ones stuck at the bottom of the water have decayed.) Ten days ago people had given up on their efforts to find any survivors in this valley, and after salvaging a few swollen bodies in life jackets and lifeboats, they were ordered to brave the rain to rush to the more important city embankment.
Qingzhu and I stood on the stone and looked in the direction of our respective homes. I said, I can't walk. It's the truth, I didn't lie to you, Qingzhu. Green bamboo, you sit on the stone, stay with me for a while, and when the flood recedes, you will be able to find out the whereabouts of your family.
Qingzhu said, I have a way. You see, it's a hillside over there, and the only way to escape is to escape there. There must be someone there, endure for the last day or two. Can't stand it for the last day or two?
Qingzhu tied one end of the rope to the trunk around him, so that I could hold it tightly, and the other end was tied to his waist. Then he threw off his arm and paddled toward the other tree closest to us. His speed changed from fast to slow, and finally to motionless. He wasn't dead, he was just lying on a tree and waving at me.
Come here, he said. Can't you come over here? Take the rope.
I rolled from the rock into the water, grabbed the rope, moved, and headed forward; the tree, the yellow water, stepped on the corpse, the corpse's head, I could realize. With the tree, with the green bamboo, yes, yes, something else, the distance is gradually shortening. Gradually shortened. short. In shortening, when I am awake, in shortening, when awake.
We relied on this rope and the tall trees that grew naturally, and after the distance of the three ropes, through the putrefaction of a pig, past the partially collapsed roof, and gradually approached the dusky hillside. The rain does not stop for a moment, like countless gray eyeballs falling from the sky, turning into a whirlpool that hinders our way, with no intention of ending.
This was the tip of the fourth tree, the distance of the fourth rope, but suddenly we found that the rope could not hold any of the fifth trees.
You go alone. I told Qingzhu that I had no strength for a long time, and the reason why I still went so far was entirely based on his face. I told him that it was best not to move around, and when I died, I must not go into the water casually, but find the tree and save enough strength to make a decision.
Qingzhu said, I still have a way. He said he had another way. (Judging by his later actions, his so-called solution was to jump into the water again when I was nearing my coma.) I don't know which direction he swam in, I don't know what he's going to do, I'm stuck in a branch, like a corpse knocked by the rain)
When he came back, he was dressed in Uncle Shi's clothes and took out a piece of meat for me to eat. "What kind of meat is this?" I asked him with my eyes. "It's pork, eat it." He told me to take off my clothes and eat the meat. I followed his wishes, stuffed the flesh into my stomach, and began to undo my clothes one button at a time. He also untied. He cut several slits in the clothes of the three men with a wooden knife, and then "sizzled" the long strips. Every three strands are twisted into a twist rope, connected end to end. He said, "You see, the rope is much longer. You're full, you're full, you're strong. ”
A man was stuck in a tree branch, and she was dead. The water turned her hair yellow like a slippery moss, clinging to her face. Qingzhu also took off her clothes, so the length of our rope was lengthened again. On the third day, we appeared before everyone with a dying face. People heroically surrounded us and asked if they had seen any trace of their loved ones. Qingzhu put a barefoot on the chair, his heels touching his buttocks, his knees against his chin, drinking hot porridge, and said loudly: "Take a cucumber for me to eat." ”