Author: Xu Yuhu
To the south of the wheat farm, there is an old well. How many years of vicissitudes that the well has gone through, no one has examined.
The old well is not large, and the wellhead is paved with four bluestone slabs, about three feet square and about two or three inches deep. Along the well stood several thick logs, and the reels of the water were tied firmly to several pieces of wood. There are several willow trees around the old well, and every spring, summer and autumn, the willow shade turns and the birds soar, adding a unique charm to the old well. To the southeast of the well is a small vegetable garden for the production team, and to the west is a tofu house.
At dawn, before the bell of the production team was ringing, there was a creaking sound of water in the village road. At this time, the old well, which had been silent for a night, became lively. People consciously line up buckets and hang water in a first-come, first-served order. The bold man let go of the rudder, let the bucket fall naturally into the bottom of the well, and the water was filled with a creaky and creaky cry, and quickly hung up. The timid and unskilled had to turn the reel handle upside down in a circle, wait for the bucket to fill with water, and then hoist the bucket up in a circle and circle.
At this time, the men waiting for the hanging water will not be idle, some of them sit on the flat shoulders, and smoke dry cigarettes; some of them stand, joking, and speaking blasphemous words. Those hearty laughter alarmed the birds perched on the willow trees and shook off the morning dew on the willow leaves.
At dawn in their hometown, the men carried buckets of water, walked back with solid steps, and carried one solid day after another from the well platform to the home; the women began to sweep the floor, boil water, feed the chickens at home... The trivial work also adds a wisp of warmth to the house.
At noon in the summer, the old well has a lot of charm. After the old people finish eating in the morning, they lay bamboo mats for lunch break. How can the shade of the family retain the girl's hot thoughts, and how can the hot sun block the young man's turbulent heart? No, just after breakfast, the young man carried the bucket and squeaked to the old well, and the girls just finished washing the pot stove and came as scheduled with a basin of clothes. Whoever came to the old well first hoisted two buckets full of water and placed them in the shade of the old willow tree, waiting only for the girl of their choice to use it; the girls did not care whose bucket it was, as long as there was water, they poured it into their own small basin, crouched aside, and carefully washed the clothes they had just taken off in the morning.
At this time, by the old well, the weeping willows cover the sky, and the summer cicadas sing according to the branches, which is a lively scenery. The young men are in groups of three, four or five in a group, the bragging sea and the sky, and the joy of playing cards is tireless. They always want to release the sullenness hidden in the depths of their souls and show off their proud personality and talents. Arguments and laughter rose and fell, provoking the girls who were washing on the side, and from time to time they turned back, all of them blushing shyly, and their jade hands covered their lips.
At this time, with a cry: "Soybean milk is ripe-", I saw a young man carrying a bucket of soy milk filled with hot and bean flavor from the smoky tofu room and placing it next to the old well. Some girls consciously took out a few bowls from the tofu room and filled them with soy milk to dry on the edge of the well. Whoever wants to drink it can drink it, and when it is finished, it is left to dry a bowl. The tofu made of the water of the old well is tender and soft, and they can't eat it for the time being, but drinking the soy milk that contains the flavor of the well has made them shine.
After a while, someone sweetly shouted: "Liang Ye-" Someone took more than a dozen bent vegetable melons from the hands of the old man who planted vegetables for the production team, and shabu-shabu in the bucket, and distributed them to everyone section by section. Drinking soy milk made of water from the old well, eating the crisp and sweet vegetable melon that grows with the water of the old well, the feeling in their hearts is full of humor and overflowing with strong nostalgia.
At this time, I don't know which mother warmly shouted the child's breast name and let them go home to eat, and then they reluctantly walked out of the willow shade, left the old well, and walked to the village road that was scattered with cooking smoke.
Later, the village was connected to running water. That old well also completed its own vicissitudes and romantic life. The old willow tree by the well also disappeared with the creak of the chainsaw, and the tofu house overflowing with true feelings and the small vegetable garden where Liang Ye worked.
I now understand that the reason why I still remember the old well is because it has brought a solid period of solid days to generations of farmers; it has left romantic memories for generations of young people. The reason why I think of Lao Jing is that my blood is boiling, because this old well nourishes me with its own life, feeds me, and my blood flows with Lao Jing's sweet milk...
Excerpted from the Yellow River Weekend Edition of Weinan Daily on September 28, 2017