<h1>Wen 丨 Tang Yitian </h1>
As a child, I pulled out hedgehogs, caught pheasants, smashed porcelain bottles on telephone poles with homemade slingshots, and even engaged in arson.
At that time, there were several huge poplar trees growing outside the courtyard wall of my house, and there were large flocks of old eagles living on the poplar trees.
The reason I killed the old bird was simple, when I stood by the courtyard wall with a bowl of yellow rice and devoured it, a flying old bird shoved a bubble of white into my bowl.
I looked at it, and it was actually standing on a thin tree without apology, swinging on the swing, and "croaking" and screaming, as if it were proud.
I clipped the bird droppings out of my meal with chopsticks, and thought of ways to get revenge on the old bird while eating.
I loaded a box of matches, picked up a piece of broken newspaper, climbed up the poplar tree like a monkey, approached the nest of the old bird, and then ignited the newspaper and lit the bird's nest.
The old dove flew in shock, flying in a skating posture in the long sky, cursing.
Mars splashed down, and I was burned to the point of cracking my teeth and screaming, but I persevered and climbed down the tree, and a few big bubbles burned around my neck.
The sin that makes me most unforgivable is that I am ashamed of a group of ground bees that have nothing to do with me.
These creatures, dressed in black and yellow flower shirts and flying with their thin wings, have not invaded my life, and they live in pits far away from the village.
I was a bunch of "idle hammers" of the same age, and as soon as I got to school, I got together and did some "heroic" bad things.
When we discovered a kingdom of earth bees, it was like discovering an opportunity to show our skills, and everyone was invigorated.
A dozen half-pile dolls with dirty heads and dirty faces, each offering a plan, had the great idea of killing the bee on the ground and then hurrying.
At that time, the adults were busy with the agricultural dazhai movement in full swing, and we had energy and time when we did not eat.
We wore dirty plastic bags over our heads, carried sticks, and like a logistically inadequate boy scout, began a battle with the ground bees.
The bee organization is extremely strong, and it will not hesitate to sacrifice in battle.
They are uniformly dressed, agile, and equipped with sharp weapons.
By contrast, they are regular armies and we are guerrillas.
Our hostile and provocative acts have aroused great indignation among all the citizens of the Kingdom of The Bees.
They swooped out, stinging us and jumping around, and the ghosts and wolves howled and fled everywhere.
We escaped to a stinking puddle and jumped into the puddle with our shoes to get out of a disaster.
The first defeat made us grumble and let us understand the impact of time and place on certain activities.
To win, you have to wait for the best time – waiting for a pouring rain.
I don't know why people's little minds always harbor a strong desire to conquer and retaliate, these insects neither compete with us for food nor seize the land with us, why can't humans get along with them?
Is this an innate domineering spirit, or an acquired desire?
Finally looking forward to a stormy good weather, although we could not say such a bold thing as "Heaven help me", we were already victorious.
The catastrophe of the earth bee kingdom suddenly struck like an unexpected heavy rain, and we poured dirty water into each bee cave, making the wings of the ground bee unable to vibrate due to dampness, such as the heavy rain that made them incapacitated to fight.
Wasps obviously unable to stop our "water attack", they came in and out, showing helpless impatience, less than an hour, we used shovels and shovels to dig out the warm home painstakingly operated by the ground bees, the bee swarm mob wilderness.
We opened the beehive the size of a sunflower's head and ate the sweet honey with our mud-stained hands. The sweetness of victory drove us crazy.
Many years passed in a hurry, and my childhood was like those wasps, violently dying in the wilderness of memory, experiencing stormy looting.
Looking back, some small victories are no longer enough to worry about.
Survival is like an invisible and untouchable enemy, always following behind me.
I lived a life of a donkey in the village, but I was never as open and wild as a donkey.
The difficulties of survival have worn away my initial fighting spirit and competitive mentality, and the heaviness of life, like a rainstorm, has bound the thin wings of my ideals.
Some say that the peasants are the most pitiful and the most terrible.
Although I am not yet the latter, the other side of my peasant brothers makes me feel shameless.
Every year, there are always such incidents: Zhang San has sent Tian Gang to Li Si's field; Li Si has stolen Zhang San's wheat bale by night; they have sworn to the heavens to steal one degree of electricity, and they have fought and killed for the water of a ditch to remove the ditch...
These little cunnings and treacherousness, though not worth talking about, are close to the bottom line of conscience for the peasants, and are not they reproductions and reproductions of the original competitive mentality and desire to conquer?
<h1>Tang Yitian is a member of the Gansu Provincial Writers Association and a senior literary creator. </h1>