The old story of Chen Zhuang

No matter how long you leave, no matter how far you go, there is always a long line in your heart that closely follows you on the road of life. On windy days, it will pass through the long years, grazing the hometown at the end, the silent village of Enron.

[1]

The village of Chenzhuang is very small. It takes only five minutes to walk from the south to the north. There is a puddle in the west of the village, which divides the village into two parts, walking from east to west. Because of the detour, the walking time is extended. With the existence of this puddle, the villagers are divided into Dongtou people and Xitou people, and the villagers at both ends naturally communicate very little every day, so they even have more raw names. Until I grew up and walked out of the village, as an Dongtou, many people in the west also met and didn't know each other.

The puddle is the pulse of the village. When the early spring sun can finally spread unscrupulously on the village, it beats alive. Although the bottom of the pit is only a few puddles the size of the roof, it can still reflect the ferocious spring around. At that time, the child with thatch and lice on his head was the most loyal companion of the puddle.

My mother stopped me from going to the puddle, where, in addition to the water that frightened her, it was the result of seven or eight small heads coming together. Mother was finally moved by my plea. The spring sun heated the water in the yard, and his head was pressed into the basin by his mother, and his wet hair was under the fine grate, which made his scalp ache. With the disgusting smell of a lice pen on my head, I swirled into a puddle like a gust of wind.

The purple clouds on the land are covered with a cluster of east and west, and on the slope of a pit, there is also a group of east and west full of children. Children in Dongtou and Xitou are not affected by puddles. They are partners who come out of a classroom and a desk. Whenever the pit slope and the bottom of the pit are full of children, a figure will appear on the edge of the pit in the west, standing under the locust tree on the edge of the pit.

It's a scar head!

Deskmate Xiaopang is from Xitou, he told me. The children in Xitou never pay attention to his appearance, but I always want to look at him curiously. Occasionally, I would take the opportunity to run under his nose, and then peek at his head out of the corner of my eye. Unfortunately, I didn't see what I wanted to see. He was wearing a blue cloth hat. Xiao Pang said that his hair had not grown neatly since he had a big sore on his head when he was very young.

I couldn't see how old the scar head was. I just saw that there seemed to be too much longing in his eyes under the brim of his hat.

In the days of playing in the puddle, this kind of scene has become a habit in my eyes. One day, if the shadow of the scar head does not appear under the locust tree, the heart will always be empty. However, in the eyes of little fat eyes, he is a character who has never been disdained. I think, in addition to the ugly scar on his head, it may also have something to do with his almost isolated life. Xiao Pang always talks about him with an expression of disgust. What scar head seems to have never been bathed, the lice climbed up his mottled bald head along the collar, and on his Kang lay a first-grade textbook. When it comes to textbooks, Xiao Pang will laugh and say that he doesn't even know aoe.

I also smiled with the little fat, but thought of the longing eyes of the scar head standing under the locust tree. That look will still appear in my mind many years later. However, his figure, such as the wind along the upstream of the pit, disappeared completely under the old locust tree one day.

Rain Water was surprisingly luxuriant that summer. The crops in the field are like growing children, soaked in Rain Water's land, getting out of hand. Looking at the corn that is as tall as I am, the power of Rain Water is not used on me. Xiao Pang said that the water in the puddle was almost to the edge of the puddle. And I, under the care of my mother, entered the rainy season and never went to the puddle again. Even if I went to the field to help Rain Water soak the corn straw, my mother would spare no effort to bring me by my side.

The water in the puddle is almost to the edge of the puddle. What a temptation it is for children who grow up by the puddle! At this time, Xiao Pang will surely lead a group of boys like Mustang to jump into the water and play like Loach. For some reason, standing in the corn field, I thought of scar head again. That locust tree, in its prime, is growing more and more luxuriant year by year. The shadow of the scarred head looked so small under the umbrella-shaped crown that the brim of the hat almost covered most of his face. But his eyes still cast stubbornly from under the brim of his hat into the noisy puddle. For many years, I do not understand why the scar head always stands under the locust tree every day, looking at the puddle. Or, he missed the age of playing, remembering the past. It was not until that summer that I really understood, I understood, Xiao Pang also understood, but the scar head left us forever.

The sunshine after the rain, like yellow broken gold, covered the field paths. I followed my mother with sage in my hand. In the distance, the midday smoke curled up over the village. As soon as we entered the village, we heard the frightening news that the scar was dead! I looked around hurriedly, my heart beating. The sunshine of that summer seemed to be no longer warm and slippery and annoying. Since then, my mother has kept a close eye on my actions and won't even let me mention the puddle of Xitou.

Because, the scar head died to save the little fat boy playing in the puddle!

Many days later, I saw Xiao Pang, not in a puddle, but in the classroom. He lay down on the table and said he wanted to scar his head and see his figure standing under the locust tree. I also lie on the table, I said I also want, want him to look at the puddle, that eyes, containing every one of us fighting figure.

Many years later, Xiao Pang became Big Fat. He said that he dared not look at the locust tree by the pit. The head of the scar was gone, but he stood in his heart as a tree, a tree full of vitality forever. Many years later, when I thought of scar head, I suddenly realized that I had never known his name.

Since the death of Scarlett, the puddle suddenly fell silent. The children dodged far away, and the adults passed by, just in a hurry. In the past few years, I always heard adults scold their children: don't go to the puddle, where the scar head drowned.

Many years later, the puddle dried up completely. No one remembers that such a thing happened in a puddle many years ago. The children played at the foot of the hill as usual. The locust tree on the edge of Xikeng still has luxuriant branches and leaves, and every May, it will be covered with spikes like silver bells.

However, under the tree, there will no longer be a figure like the patron saint. He wears a blue cloth hat and his eyes are scattered all over the puddle.

[2]

The puddle is a paradise for children, which is located in the west, which makes us children in the east have less opportunities to get close. However, I do not know who is so good at balancing people's hearts, leaving the only school in the village at the east end, leading to the main road. On the other side of the road is a vast expanse of fields.

When I first remembered, the school was not called a school at all, but several dilapidated tile houses were connected together. The villagers with hoes were walking up and down in front of the broken wooden windows. The sound of reading in the classroom was the best sound I had ever heard at that time. I was not old enough to go to school at that time. Every day when my sister went to school, I followed her and she came into the classroom. I listened and waited under the window.

The voice that took the lead in reading in the classroom was different from that heard in other classrooms. The voice is as soft as a jasmine blooming at the window. The correct and round pronunciation always makes me linger. Later, I knew that she was an educated youth Ma teacher from the city.

Mr. Ma's dormitory is a small house next to the classroom. To the east of the open door, open, and put a lot of sunshine. Children always cast a novel look at teacher Ma, who is different from the villagers. I often stand timidly at the door of Mr. Ma's dormitory with some naughty children, watching her every move. Her hair is short, her ears are close, her eyes are long, she squints like a seam, she is very tall, and the small door seems to have just reached the top of her head.

During the day, when Mr. Ma is in the dormitory, the door is always open. Occasionally, she would take a gentle look at the children outside. Every time I found her turning her head, I quietly moved to the wall. Catch up with her out, I have no time to hide, she will stop to touch my head, and then ask when to go to school?

I can't give up her touch, but I always disappear from her sight quickly. At that time, in addition to the puddles in the west, the places where children played were the fields that attracted children all the year round. He ran out of Mr. Ma and plunged into the highland barley field. If you don't have to run very far, you will meet the children in the neighborhood, either catching the fish or holding the tender corn and eating their mouths full of white juice.

On the other side of the road opposite the classroom is the Yau Ma Tei planted in the village. This is the favorite place for children. The Yau Ma Tei in summer is verdant with extreme green, and the thin branches of hemp stalks are hung with green fruits. Love here, not only to eat, but also because the oil sesame pole is high, but also bare, without cutting people's leaves.

He is still young, and it is difficult to take off one when he jumps. He can only drool on the sesame fruit. However, after all, a child is a child and will always be a scourge in the field. Some of the hemp poles were trampled to the ground and the sesame fruits were snatched and picked. Whenever I encounter someone stepping down on the Youma pole, I squat down in horror and look at the ground from between the poles. It was not until I was sure that the frightening figure did not appear on the ground that I sat on the ridge between the hemp poles, savoring the sweet taste of the sesame fruit. However, not all of us can enjoy the delicious food safely at this time. Many times, the children ran around in Yau Ma Tei with their cats on their waists. A figure, looking at the children who soon disappeared into the green barrier, can only yell at the little bastards, next time catch, wedge your legs.

This man is Zhang Bao, the man guarding Yau Ma Tei.

I am afraid of Zhang Bao, not only because he will spank heavily when he catches the child who stole the sesame fruit, but also because he has the skill of sticking paper people. Paper people only appear at funerals after death, which is, of course, fear for a seven-year-old child, scared to see a paper figure, just like seeing a dead person.

I have only been to Zhang Bao's house once, when I sent uppers to his mother with his mother. Mother's sewing machine is the only one in the village. Anyone who wants to make shoes will always take the cloth and ask his mother to help press the upper. When my mother entered Zhang Bao's house, I secretly opened the corner of the curtain of the opposite house. I have only seen Zhang Baobu's paper figures, virgins and virgins at the funerals of the villagers. Their faces are lifelike. Fear made my hands tremble and increased my breathing. I saw Zhang Bao holding a paper man in his arms, rubbing away. Zhang Bao heard the voice behind him and looked back to see me. I escaped from Zhang Bao's house.

Mother came back and said, Zhang Bao's life is really difficult. From primary school to paste paper people's craftsmanship, with the capital of a nursing mother, but no woman is willing to follow him. The woman waiting to be married in the neighboring villages heard that Zhang Bao was a paper sticker, and none of them wanted to enter that house. That night, I had a nightmare in which countless paper people were flying towards me. I woke up screaming, closed my eyes, and dared not look out of the window. There are few curtains in the windows of people in the country, so they can see through and come in.

After I escaped from Zhang Bao's house, I never went to Yau Ma Tei again. When I saw Zhang Bao, I was like a dead man, and I hid away from me.

My sister will never go to the fields as naughty as I do. she wants to study. More importantly, the teacher who teaches her is Miss Ma. Her sister said that she likes Miss Ma best. I like it, too, even my mother. When Chinese cabbage can be eaten after autumn, my mother will always let my sister hold a few trees and send them to Mr. Ma's dormitory. If I don't go to Yau Ma Tei, I will still stand at Mr. Ma's door for a while and secretly.

The Yau Ma Tei after autumn is full of autumn colors, and the children's paradise is also brought down bit by bit. Without cover-up, the children exposed all their naughtiness to the eyes of the villagers, but became more unscrupulous. In the corner of the vacant lot of the school, more than ten meters away from the flagpole, the hemp poles that had just been cut were stacked. The children were using hemp poles as weapons, and Zhang Bao was digging holes with sweat. The hemp rod can not be stripped off until it is soaked in water. This pit is used to soak the hemp pole.

In the autumn of that year, when Zhang Baoyou Ma Chi was in the middle of control, I walked into the easternmost classroom.

I expect my teacher to be Mr. Ma, but that's just my wishful thinking. Standing under the flagpole for the first time, watching the five-star red flag rising slowly, listening to the national anthem countless times, only at that moment, really into the heart. Between the headmaster's speech, I secretly watched Zhang Bao and his pile of linen sticks. He is also secretly looking this way. I always felt his eyes fixed on me, and I was so scared that I turned my head. Behind me, a pair of warm hands touched my head to remind me that it was Mr. Ma who listened to the headmaster. I also followed my sister to bring her cabbages.

I went to school in a hurry. I seldom go to the puddle in the west. Because of my sister, I have more opportunities to come to Mr. Ma's dormitory. Mother sent Chinese cabbage, more necessities for living. My sister and I enjoy going back and forth between our home and Mr. Ma's dormitory.

Autumn, so quickly stepped on by our sisters at the foot, no shadow. The field is desolate. The puddle in which Zhang Bao was soaked in oil hemp was filled with water, and the branches and leaves of oil hemp were wiped off, leaving only a long branch. The day when Zhang Bao soaked oil and hemp in water was a Saturday. There was no moon that night, and it was too dark to see. I didn't have nightmares, but I woke up in the middle of the night for no reason. Looking out of the window at the stars until dawn.

In my sleep, I heard my sister crying. My mother was shouting and scolding, not my sister, but Zhang Bao.

I don't know what happened. No one told me, nor did my sister. She told me to shut up.

Teacher Ma's dormitory is empty and only adults know where he has gone. Zhang Bao's Youma pool is covered with plastic sheeting, and only adults know how long the pole will be soaked. Zhang Bao is gone and where he has gone.

Once, I saw Zhang Bao sitting on the threshold crying. In the courtyard, Zhang Bao was covered with paper and was soaked beyond recognition by Rain Water.

When she is free in winter, my mother will be stupefied for a while at the Chinese cabbage at home. I know that she is thinking about teacher Ma. When I think of teacher Ma, she will stay away from her dormitory, which has never been in the sun again, and that Yau Ma Pool.

In puddles, winter puddles are covered with thick ice. Xiao Pang and I are looking for a kind of time called childhood.

[3]

Although the village is small, it has two completely different village styles. This can be attributed to the different living spaces of the Dongtou people and the Xitou people. For some reason, most of the life of the Dongtou people is very rich, and naturally there is some publicity, while the Xitou people can see from the old and new degree of their courtyard that few families are living a comfortable life.

Han Liuye, who lives on the edge of Dongkeng, is a capable person who can pinch and calculate in the village. Every cool summer night, under the locust tree at the gate of Master Han, he would gather all over the neighborhood to listen to the assertions of Master Han who sounded a little garrulous. The difference in life between the Dongtou people and the Xitou people always makes Han Liuye speak with relish. What fengshui is big in the east, and what this puddle enters into the hinterland of the west end, is that no matter how lucky it is, it will flow eastward, and for the Dongtou people, the puddle is a barrier against the attack of the northwest wind.

Master Han splashed with saliva, and the Dongtou people forgot to swallow the saliva, and there were plenty of people flowing down the corners of their mouths. I sat on the outside of the crowd, thinking. Indeed, the puddle does not divide the village equally into two, but the eastern half accounts for nearly 2/3.

Han Liuye still wants to keep alive his knowledge of fengshui. Granny Han Liu shouted on the gate: talk about this all the year round, hurry home and give me a hand.

Master Han rolled his eyes at Mrs. Han, but his ass left the stone stool. The listeners were still full of thoughts, but knowing that Master Han was most afraid of Grandma Han, they dispersed with laughter.

Han Liuye's family is a professional chicken farmer. At that time, the title was not honorable. Since Master Han began to raise chickens, Dongtou people have been raising chickens in twos and threes. Mother is a rare capable woman in the village, so she won't miss such an opportunity. One winter, my mother followed Master Han to Waixian County to buy 800 chicks.

When the chicken baby was transported home, I found that my sleeping place was occupied by chicks. On the house floor, a big iron bed replaced the warm adobe Kang. The dampness in the room, I only slept for one night, and then I had eczema all over. Xiao Pang stayed away from me in class for no reason, and my red face had nowhere to hide with his strange eyes.

I was amazed at the energy my mother put into the chicken. Young do not understand the hardship of life, to see the chicks under the careful care of their mother shed that yellowish fluff, grow two pairs of small wings, I have long forgotten because of them, the pain and itching. Master Han came to the house several times, like the teacher who lectured on the podium in the school, pointing to that, pointing to this. Mother listened humbly.

There are so many family members in the family that my mother naturally can't take care of me. On Sunday, Xiao Pang would lie out of the window and wait for me early in the morning, looking at the happy chicken. He didn't want to go into that smelly house, even though he wanted to keep some chickens. Xiao Pang said that his mother could raise only a few eggs for his old hens, let alone so many chicks.

The wall of Master Han Liu's house is covered with clusters of sour jujube branches. In spring, jujube flowers the size of rice grains spit out a strong fragrance, and passers-by can't help but stop and take a few sips. After autumn, there are round dates hanging from the jujube branches, some green and red, hanging on the edge of the pit like agate.

In this season, it is jujube branches that lose all their leaves, leaving dates to show off in the winter sun. Xiao Pang said that sour jujube noodles can cure his grandmother's heart disease. The two of us went gladly. However, a bamboo pole stabbed half a bag of sour dates, and Han Liuye was also stabbed in front of him.

What's the use of beating dates?

The dates are made into noodles to treat grandma's heart disease. The little fat said guiltily, I hid behind the little fat body and dared not look at the black face of Master Han.

When I ran home, I was just in time for lunch. Xiao Pang moved home slowly because the cloth bag in his hand was full of wild sour dates. Master Han Liuye took a big bamboo pole from home, and a few moments later, a layer of dates fell on the ground.

That year, Han Liuye's chicken came out of the cage, and so did his mother's chicken. Mother followed Master Han to send the chicken to the city a hundred miles away. When I came back, it was late at night. I still slept on the big iron bed, but in my ear, there was no more chirping of chickens. That night, I slept soundly, and my mother's voice of counting money over and over again lingered in my ears.

The news that mother had made a lot of money, led by Master Han, spread like wildfire in the village. The village immediately set off an upsurge of breeding. The little fat girl is not to be outdone. At the beginning of that summer, there was a smell everywhere in Dongtou and Xitou, and even people were stained with that smell. I can no longer pay attention to Xiao Pang's eyes, he has also suffered the cruel torture I have experienced.

Often when things are most optimistic, there will be the most unwanted results. The group of chicken babies who came to Chenzhuang did not know where the evil wind blew. Overnight, there were countless young chicken babies in the puddle. The damp air in early summer wet the yellow fluff, which trembled with the wind as soon as the morning wind blew, making people feel like a thousand jin of heavy stone.

Master Han ran to the animal husbandry bureau in the city with the dead chicken baby in his arms. The mother lost her mind in the face of a chicken baby who was gradually losing her vitality. The whole village is immersed in a kind of panic. After all, most of these chicken babies have exhausted each family's savings.

When Master Han came back, he brought back a bag of medicine and sent it from house to house.

Although Han Liuye tried his best to save the chicken baby in the village, many families ended up facing the fluff of the chicken baby left behind by a Kang. With experience in raising chickens, my mother finally saved half of her painstaking efforts. The Xitou people overturned almost all hopes. That year, the little fat Niang swore that she would never raise a chicken baby again.

The upsurge of farming in the village collapsed overnight. Master Han still went his own way and did not stop because of this blow. Mother regarded Han Liuye as an immortal figure, so she naturally followed him.

Xiao Pang came to see the chicken baby outside my window every Sunday. However, he will no longer look at me strangely, nor will he deliberately smell me with his nose. When wild sour jujube is ripe, we will still hold bamboo poles to fight dates outside the wall of Han Liu's house. However, even if Master Han heard the sound, he would not come out to stop it. Sometimes, he would say in a loud voice in the yard that don't let the jujube stick prick.

Master Han and his mother waited for a bumper harvest in the new year. Master Han and his mother went a hundred miles away to send chickens to the factory. When he went, it was Master Han who drove the carriage, and when he came back, his mother came back with Master Han.

Master Han Liu died of a heart attack on his way back.

The death of Master Han left the Dongtou people short of support. Especially the mother. In the middle of the night when she came back, my mother sat on the iron bed and wept until dawn, with a lot of money on the bed. The money still has the temperature in the hands of Master Han.

After the death of Master Han Liu, Mrs. Han Liu never raised a chicken baby again. Most of the time, she sits on the stone stool at the door, where Master Han often sits talking nonsense to the villagers. Looking at the four seasons in the puddle, Granny Han could not hide her sadness in her eyes.

In the sunny afternoon after autumn, the sixth Granny Han under the locust tree occasionally fell on the sour jujube bushes with scattered branches and leaves outside the wall. The bamboo pole in Xiao Pang's hand, under the gaze of Granny Han, as if fixed there, dared not move at all. Mrs. Han squatted down, picked up some dates, held them in the palm of her hand, went into the yard, closed the door, and left Xiao Pang and me to look at each other.

The life difference between the Dongtou people and the Xitou people still exists, and it seems that it is getting bigger and bigger.

Many years later, Xiao Pang went to the city and took his parents to the city to enjoy themselves. Mother became a professional chicken farmer after Han Liuye. Now, although the mother no longer raises chicken babies, she often misses the days when a bunch of chicken babies slept on the adobe. She often thought of Han Liuye, saying that Han Liuye was her lucky star, and that he would never have had such a good life without his gratuitous efforts.

I also miss the years of my life in Chenzhuang. The childhood that passed through the puddle; the indelible shadow of the scar head in the memory; the soft voice of teacher Ma; Zhang Bao's almost wretched face and his pasted paper figures; the summer cool night like Han Liuye's storytelling; mother looked at the happy eyes of a Kang chicken baby.

As I read it, I seemed to see the cooking smoke over the village, like a long line, involving a fluttering kite, floating and struggling in the wind.

Author: flower paper umbrella