Wu Boxi's works: I like the night, so I like to talk at night

Maybe the personality is melancholy, or how can you like the night?

I like the shadows of people who look forward to the streets at night. I like the lonely lights in the empty house. I like the cool autumn night of the goose that is empty. Passengers who like to sleep on riverboats listen to the midnight bell. The tsunami that likes to crash on the shore of the shore is still responding to the distant mountains and near the mountains. I like to make Zu Di draw his sword and dance with a burst of chicken chirping. I like the barking of the dogs in the dark shadows of the secluded streets and poor alleys. Loved the midnight shot. Love the hooligans of the toddlers waddling in the alleys. I like jazz music in the dance hall that rings straight into the dawn. I like the bright flower candles in the cave room, and look at the shy bridesmaids under the flower candles. I like that in the late night in the hotel, there are still people shouting tea rooms to open the pot. I like the long Shu Yishu lazy waist, sleepy mouth opened wide and sneezed: because I like the night, these night play will like it.

Yes, I love the night. Therefore, I also liked the night talk.

It's a hot day, when people are busy giving or listening to people. The old man of the crop is plowing and ravaging, hoeing, sweating a handful of mud and toiling in the field; the trader is tossing the abacus beads, the corners of his mouth are flying, and he is calculating every bit, playing tricks with each other; the workers have changed their hands; in the school, the gentlemen are taking it or not, the students are haunting, stealing the little leisure of Mr. Sleep. These, want to talk, how easy is it to talk? Talk and wait until night. It's best to talk about it at night.

On summer nights, in the countryside, just put down the chopsticks for dinner, and the stars are already scattered all over the sky. There were many mosquitoes in the courtyard, and it was also a bit sweltering, so I took a dog skin mattress for my grandfather, carried a hookah, and walked to the garden where the willow trees were circling the edge of the village, and the ground was full of people talking. Those who are dressed in robes, those who sit on small benches, those who take off their shoes and take their shoes as cushions, those who lay on reeds and fold their legs, all come to cool off. The elderly grandfather, the middle-aged uncle, the young brother, all greeted warmly:

　　"Have you eaten?"

　　"Sit here."

　　

Some said they owed, and some stood up when they said it. It is peace and ironing in the heart. First, I will smoke for a while, I will not smoke, I will count the stars to catch fireworks, and slowly I will talk about idle days. Slowly, the story begins. There was the long-haired rebellion, there was Liangshan Bozhu Yingtai, and there was "that year's great drought lasted for seven days and seven hundred and forty-nine days, and there was no harvest of tanaka grain." "Talk about ghosts, say fox fairies, say parents are short." It's delicious. When I was scared, I squeezed into the cracks of people, listened happily, and laughed with everyone. Looking at the vast wilderness that has been dark to the edge of the sky, looking at the stars, looking at the fireworks, watching the glimmer of the pipe light up, the heart is diluted and quiet. Man is attuned to the night. A meteor swept by, and everyone shouted, "Look at that thief star!" "A lantern walked by the side of the road and the dog bit it.

　　"Dog!" Someone was groaning.

　　Q: "Where did you go?" ”

　　"Catch the store." Or "Go to town." "The reply of the lantern.

A shock in the heart is often followed by peace. Watch the lantern far away, far away. The previous story begins again. Occasionally, there are also two reeds, and the cavity of the zizi. You listen, "Gold medal summons silver medal selection..." or a small voice.

It's night talk. It's a nocturnal talk in the countryside. In this way, the night talk is often dispersed until the C night, and it is often dispersed until the dew is heavy. It is often talking about someone who is asleep and snoring; someone who is dozing off and yawning. The mother of a child called out to her child: "Don't give me back to sleep!" The child rubbed his sleepy eyes and did not want to go, but he was gone. Whose husband's wife called out to her husband, "I said, don't you want to go home yet?" The obedient and honest husband did not want to leave, but he also got up and left.

In this way, when you go and I go, people will gradually become thinner, and words will gradually become less. When the people are dispersed, the dog also "ah hums" and relaxes, leaving only squeaky bats flying, buzzing mosquitoes barking, as if still talking lively.

There are people far away from the country well, drifting in the wind and rain, trekking through mountains and rivers, thinking of home, taking tired steps, and arriving at a wild shop when the sun is about to set. Enter the door, stomp on the dust on your feet, wipe your face, and blow your nose. When I went to the house, I drank tea, I was thirsty, I drank a few drinks; I didn't want to eat, and I socialized a little, but when I should clean up and sleep, I couldn't sleep. Right a lamp, lonely, tired, stuffy, sad, almost want to cry, want to cry. Suddenly, at this time, the car door opened, and another guest came in, picking up the burden, pushing the cart, driving the donkey to sell wine, no matter what, it was also a good stay. You see him, when he comes into the shop, he also stomps on the dust on his feet, wipes his face, blows his nose, and comes to the house to drink tea and eat. At first, you didn't have the heart to greet him, but you wanted to cry, you wanted to cry. But then you greeted him:

　　"Where did you come from?"

　　"Where are you going?"

You ask him your surname, and he also asks you your surname, don't you slowly become acquainted? Slowly, we talked about it. I am also a guest of the journey! The same disease will pity each other.

As they spoke, they both felt a little close and a little comforted. In this way, you forget your loneliness, you are not very sad, and quietly you step into the dream. Even if you wake up with tear marks on the pillow, it is better than listening to the sound of a husband's voice all night, and it is better to toss and turn in bed like a loach.

If it is a hometown that knows, then it is even more time to have a glass of wine to celebrate? Won't you sit back and wait? You can't finish talking overnight. Happy to hold hands tightly, sad to tears dry, or patting each other on the shoulder and smiling at each other, who knows what to say? The night is lonely, you forget; the night is long, you forget. You only feel excitement, only feel the inexplicable pulse joy that hits your heart, the inexplicable sourness.

Again, this is a kind of night talk.

　　If, for a moment, the wind outside is tight, and the spies are surrounded by spies everywhere, and a bunch of revolutionaries are still on a small top floor, or in a sullen basement, burning a thin candle, and the light is so weak that their breathing is extinguished, talking about something, what is theory. Cut through the chirping voice, I am afraid that I will understand it only by listening to it with my eyes. But people did not panic, but calmly locked every warm heart. They looked at each other with joy with the burning light in their eyes, as if they were expecting a person, waiting for a very serious command. For a long time, I was wondering:

"Why haven't you come yet?"

　　"Should there be no mistake?"

Suddenly, listening in disbelief, he knocked on the door three times, and looked over, and squeezed through the crack of the door was a young man in a rag and blue shirt. It was he, with a thin body, sharp eyes, tightly closed lips, like a will like iron. Everyone stood up solemnly and welcomed him; and subconsciously solemnly sat down and listened to him.

First it was a girlish, generous and burning laugh, casting a shock potion on each reserved soul, and then the low and clear tone of voice sounded, like the tinkling of the newly emerging spring. To speak of a trap is to speak of the love of a dancer; to speak of prison is to speak of an ancient book; to speak of life, to say that it should be like thunder and lightning on a rainy day, a little loud, a little bright, even if it is a flash of a short time, it is good. To say that death is the beginning of another dream, there is no need to hope or fear, it has nothing to do with life. Speak of the stupidity of the treacherous, of the great events of the riots, and of the days to come when all the people rejoice. Without paying attention, you see, everyone revealed an unobstructed smile from the inside, and their faces were covered with that blushing red light. Excited, inspired, everyone is like a bomb. There is an irrepressible force hidden.