Yang Xianbo: Writing in the countryside.

fragrance and colour

My hometown is at the top of the Qinling Mountains, and a mountain range runs through the north and south. With high altitude

Yang Xianbo: Writing in the countryside.

fragrance and colour

My hometown is at the top of the Qinling Mountains, and a mountain range runs through the north and south. With high altitude and distinct seasons, summer is the most comfortable place. People who are used to staying in Guanzhong don't want to go again when they have the opportunity to enter the mountains. They shouted humorously: "When we got to the shepherd's pass, our hearts were all cold."

When I was young, there were many grand ideas: people were forced to move forward, and only by staying behind can they go further. It seems that the farther away from home, the more promising it is, and the distance is always a yearning.

And I, perhaps without too many promises, turn back from time to time. Look back at the road you have traveled, the land you miss in your hometown, and the familiar faces you left in the village until they drift away ... life is a process of saying goodbye constantly, and you don't have to chase it.

When I was a child, the tree that climbed high by digging bird eggs also disappeared in the passage of time. Together with those happy or broken memories, there is only one rotten root left, strong and vicissitudes. Come back again and again, looking at the parents who greeted each other in a hurry when they met in the impression, there are fewer and fewer familiar faces.

It was also at the village weddings and funerals that I learned that the handsome and diligent young man was the second son of Fuliang in the village. He called "Uncle" and quickly pulled out a cigarette for me. The woman dressed like a girl in the city belongs to Tieniu's family, chatting with a smile with her mobile phone. The sven guy with glasses is social and just graduated from college. These children are strangers to me. Their parents and I are of the same generation. When I was a child, under the deep-rooted willow, in the bright moonlight and night, I played the role of "war" partner. Chop wood together in the mountains, burn potatoes in the digging kiln, and bake corn stalks in other people's fields. People ask their age. This is fifty-two and that is forty-nine.

This generation, originally the main force in the village, is running on the edge of the city. Downstairs, village in the city, vegetable market, people's market ... No matter which corner, there is the figure of this generation, branded with stains, and the traces of years are engraved on the face. We all felt in unison: "Old!"

Yes, old! This is an indisputable fact. Look at the children of our noble family, my Lord. Can they not get old?

Liang Zheng's third daughter should get married. Shouting at the door, most women are busy, and their hands are always busy. There is always a lot of work in their hands, such as scraping potatoes, cutting radishes, peeling garlic, steaming steamed buns and frying tofu. Men seem to have nothing to do, but they are also natural and unrestrained. There are two square tables at the entrance of the venue. One booth is playing for three generations, and the other booth is pushing at 10: 30. There is a cup of tea in front of everyone, and everyone puts a few yuan to a dozen yuan or even more paper money more or less. There are more private cars on the road, and the owners are also smoking cigarettes.

The afterglow of the sunset before evening reflected the whole earth. The mountains are pure green, and the villages with original ecological landscape are more peaceful. The old houses are scattered in order at the root of the slope, and the land is in front. Potatoes and corn are evenly planted on the land. Plastic film corn has just broken ground, showing tenacious vitality. Zhu Gang's daughter-in-law hasn't finished her work yet, bending over and hoeing potatoes hard. The potatoes should be hoed twice, and the soil should be loosened to weed. The loose soil is fresh and moist, and the taste of the land is incomparable with the spring breeze. She has hoed half the land, and the oily potato seedlings are growing vigorously.

Land is the least profitable for workers. Everyone who works hard is equal. As long as you sow and cultivate, if the weather is favorable, you will always get the joy of harvest.

Many large numbers of immigrants moved to this town. The old house is decorated with white walls and red tiles. Naturally, they scattered along the ditch slope and landed at the foot of the mountain. They are neither as conspicuous as villas nor as dazzling as brick houses. Between the green mountains and green waters, they are very eye-catching. The house is close to the mountain, and there are mountains not far away. Green plants are wrapped in a river that does not dry up all the year round, and it is crystal clear. Once paved with gravel, the country road twists and turns along the river, but now it has become a flat cement road. There are no pits here and no ridges there. Under the blue sky and white clouds, breathing fresh air, a way out for three households and two households connects the village road and the yard. This hospital is surnamed Li, that hospital is surnamed Cao, and the four families are surnamed Luo. At the foot of the mountain, across a river, three or more tall pine trees appear from time to time, with needles all over the place, which must be the ancestral graves under the trees.

The ancestral grave is the root of a surname family in the village. The continuation of life, such as the branches of pine trees, lasts in the time when the seasons change. No matter how far you go, there are always feelings in your hometown that others can't feel, endless stories, dreams of cooking smoke and deep expectations in your soul. ...

The photos locked in the camera always want to share with friends far away. Time and again, with the expectation of dreams, you plan to pack your bags and come and go in a hurry, take a look at the best "hometown color" that nature will always give to mankind, write down your literary dreams and leave your spirit behind.

If you find the most beautiful one, you will get drunk!

Enjoy the most beautiful and beautiful soul. Look up and walk down.

As the sun sets, I stop and go. Accustomed to this calm, I learned this seriousness. Learned this laziness, learned this appreciation.

People always have a place to rest their souls. It must be the quiet after the prosperity, a thick soil that belongs to your own watch-hometown!

Look up at a colorful cloud ...

Open your heart, the world belongs to you!

Rural sacrifice

I went back to my hometown Qin Mao several times and watched it again in front of the empty old house. I didn't go to my father's grave, so I didn't want to disturb him. I'm afraid I can't control my tears.

July's hometown is not hot, the village is empty, and there are few people, but many of them are familiar and unfamiliar.

Sitting in front of my father's grave, nothing grows on the ground, weeds are overgrown, trees are shaded, and birds sing from time to time. Birds make sounds and keep talking and singing. Perhaps in the past six months, it is these birds that accompany my father the most! Twitter at my father's grave.

When my father is around, he always walks to the river in front of the door with one foot high and one foot low. He walked straight and walked back and forth for 100 meters. If every foot can be branded, then this deep and shallow muddy road is full of father's footprints. He's looking for people, looking at people and talking to people. Stand with your back against the stone by the roadside, watching the van whizzing by from time to time, or one or two familiar and unfamiliar people rushing forward. Say hello or say a word to someone occasionally, but I can't remember who he or she is at all. Opposite is a big road, which connects the national highway of the town and leads to the provincial capital. The children walked further and further along it. The other side leads to Nangou, and some scattered elderly people are pacing. Across a river, my father looked at their figures from far to near, from near to far.

The village was quiet and my father was lonely.

In those years, my father suffered from severe amnesia, and he could hardly name people. He looked at the village, looked at the three tile houses he built in those years, and the houses were old, just like his father's old and sick body, and looked at the wooden door, which was engraved with the mark of time. After my father left, the door was locked, there was more moss on the steps, more grass in the yard, and occasionally wild flowers. It looks like a courtyard that has been abandoned for years. People are the vitality of the house. Without human vitality, the house will lose its vitality and collapse.

The road connecting the blocks is the only way to the Yuanwa ditch behind the house. There were many people who used to farm, sowing in spring, hoeing in summer and harvesting in autumn. You can see all kinds of people carrying cages, carrying bags and pulling carts. Now I seldom see those people. Some of them have gone, the old ones can't walk, the young ones have gone out, the children have gone to school, and the ditch has become barren. No matter how hard it is to walk in front of the door, there are few people who stop to talk to their father.

Once I came back, I didn't even have the confidence to open the door with a key. A little spider pulled a net diagonally at the top and corner of the door frame, with tiny mosquitoes stuck on it. The spider didn't move, but shrank and hid in the upper corner. The cat beside my father disappeared, and so did the adopted stray dog. I still clearly remember that when I was a child, my mother was not allowed to close the door during the day, let alone leave it unlocked for three or two days. It is taboo to say that there is no one in the house. Now the village is used to locking the door one by one, and the door is closed all year round.

Thanks to the second brother and second sister-in-law for taking care of his father, so that he can always have hot meals and change into clean clothes in his later years. I really want to find cats and stray dogs who have been with my father for many years, hug them, give them the most sincere kiss, thank them for their loyalty and thank them for their companionship.

Life ended with my father. In the cold December, he went to his mother and lay beside her. The grave always belongs to the child.

Coming back to visit my father is more of a sense of frustration, which is beyond words. My brother and sister-in-law both went to the provincial capital to live with their nephews and look after their grandchildren. Both houses are locked, and the figures of mom and dad emerge from the pieces of paper, always lingering. Smoke three cigarettes and look at the pile of pieces of paper that turned to ashes. Sitting in the snow in front of the grave, sitting with my father, and only sitting with my father. The trees and leaves behind the house are thick, and the mountains in the distance are hazy and clear, which always brings back too many memories. There used to be endless childhood stories. On the ground in front of the grave, my cousin built a new grave for him. The stone is very good and luxurious. Cousin is the second child of his peers in the family. Nine brothers, I ranked eighth. Big brother is dumb, but he is especially smart and clean. He helps to do everything in the yard, big and small. There is no craft he can't remember, especially carpentry. One person contracted almost all the toy guns and slingshots when we were children. He is very picky about his life. Shortly after my aunt died, he hanged himself because of hepatitis. He was only 44 years old that year. This matter has a great influence on me. Every year when I go to the grave, I always give him more pieces of paper to settle my soul. Now, my cousin and sister-in-law are both in their seventies. When the villagers are old, they all want to take care of their coffins and cemeteries, and cousins are no exception.

Suddenly feel sad, days always pass by inadvertently, and time is cruel to everyone. Many graves have been added around my father's grave. My grandparents, uncles, aunts and old people near my home, I think of them from time to time when they are alive. They are all gone now, leaving the world behind. When I said goodbye to my father half a year ago, I was inexplicably afraid and sad when I saw my cousin repaired the cemetery. Man, what can't let go? It is always calm to hear the trivial things that neighbors hate each other and intrigue each other. Right and wrong may constitute life, but everyone's mind is a little broader, brighter and more tolerant. Maybe the world will really change a little.

I kept saying goodbye to my loved ones and inadvertently left myself over half a year old. Have a different understanding of life and life. When I walked into the yard, I was in a panic. I watched my uncle's lonely figure by the river and walked every step with crutches. I stopped to get off, lit his cigarette and talked to him. My father's figure is still so clear in front of my eyes.

It is impossible to predict what my hometown will be like in ten or twenty years, and it is impossible to predict whether my cousin's courtyard will become the last watchman. The younger generation left the countryside in various ways, got their own jobs, houses and children in different cities, and their feelings for their hometown became more and more indifferent or even disappeared.

There is an old saying that parents are at home! Parents are relatives among brothers and sisters, and when parents die, they become relatives. I often eat with my friends, but it is difficult to invite my brothers and sisters to eat together. Each has his own home and his own business. It is difficult to bring people together, and it is even more difficult to bring people together. I understand that the dead have gone, and the living should live well. On the afternoon when my father was buried, my sisters were anxious to go back. I looked at the shadow of the car when they left, and my eyes were blurred. I was silent, and it was not easy to understand their lives.

The eldest sister's two grandchildren go to school in the county, and her son and daughter-in-law work in other places. She rented a house in the village to look after her grandchildren. Miss also has two grandchildren, while her mother-in-law fell down in the hospital, and her daughter-in-law had to take care of her mother in the hospital, and the two grandchildren were left unattended at home. Eldest brother is far away in Xinjiang. He flew back the day his father died. He stayed at home for more than ten days. Due to work restrictions, he bought a plane ticket in advance. The day after he was buried, I took him to the airport. My son is taking the final exam. He came back from Chengdu on leave, gave his grandfather a ride and hurried to school. I understand them, life is not easy, and everyone has many fetters. I watched them walk away, lying on the sofa tired, with their heads blank, and everything passed, like a dream.

This is an empty village, and it is even more empty after my father left. I seldom set foot on this land again, because every time I get close, I feel too much loss, too much emotion and pain to express and restrain. In the dead of night, everything in my hometown comes to my mind.

Dusk, the shade in the wind. I smoked one cigarette after another and saw the distant mountains leaving a hazy outline in the evening twilight. I'm talking to my father and my mother is listening. They didn't answer me. My eyes were a little blurred, so I got up and knelt on the ground again, kowtowed to my parents for three times, and then quietly left. ...

An ancient town

This town is no longer what it used to be.

I walked through the town, and I was a little panicked.

One side is the power line. The three-phase four-wire low-voltage line carries the power supply of more than 400 households in the town and is erected on the cement pole of12m. On the other side is a 7-meter cement pole planted by the telecommunications department. These poles are used by power lines, telephone lines, mobile lines, communication lines and photoelectric lines. In the past, almost all the fixed telephones were removed, leaving only one finger to count the telephones of credit cooperatives, health centers and power supply stations. Those idle lines have not been banned, and the more networks, the less beautiful they are.

I crossed the street just in time for the party. The town was a party in February 258, and there were not many people. The stall owner has already started to set up a stall. Four butchers hung the meat on the old shelf early, and people sat there with fly swatter to keep driving away flies. Business in the butcher shop is not very good. Most of the meat that was not sold out in the last market went home and put it in the freezer, and then it was taken out at every party and sold as soon as possible. The newly slaughtered pork is put in a tricycle and covered with Puckilo. If you meet a big buyer planning a wedding or funeral at home, you will take Puckilo away and say, "I was killed this morning." The price can't be arbitrary, otherwise the business you get will be taken away by others, and you can only whisper, "I'll give you the cheapest price, the price of the bus to the city in the morning." If you are not careful, the guests will leave. I had to shake the fly swatter in amazement and look at a meat fan brought from someone else's house.

The stall is full of hope for every party day, and there are many people in the town. Noon 12 Not many people. Several businesses selling vegetables are doing well, with a long list of big boxes, but the vegetables are all fresh. Most of the dishes are from Zhang Chong in the middle of the night, and they come back from Lantian wholesale, pulling carts, and come back at six or seven in the morning to share with you. Several vegetable sellers or carts or tricycles unload the vegetables they want in advance, and Zhang Chong pays the bill while weighing. These days are good, everything is available, and the price is cheaper than in the city. People who buy vegetables are always very picky. The host is busy weighing this and that, but he can tell how much it costs in one bite. Their mental arithmetic is far beyond your imagination. If you don't trust me, forget it. Hey! Not bad at all.

Everyone says that Zhang Chong's daughter-in-law is a businessman. She always laughs: "You see, all I earn is bitter money." The daughter-in-law is telling the truth. They are the most diligent and hardworking people in town. They make a fortune by selling vegetables all year round. It is common to get up early and get greedy for the dark. Many years ago, they demolished two dilapidated old wooden houses left by their parents and built two floors. My son goes to college in the provincial capital and works in the provincial capital. Sending my daughter to school in the county town, all tuition fees depend on these hardworking hands. Finally, I saved hundreds of thousands to buy a house for my son. I always feel that the houses in the provincial capital are too expensive, waiting for the price to be reduced one day, so I have been earning and saving. Unexpectedly, the house price suddenly doubled. Although I often regret that I didn't have a vision and didn't buy a house a few years ago, I am glad that my children are very disappointing and keep busy.

The moths selling cold rice noodles must have got up at midnight to make cold rice noodles. There is a cage of thick cold rice noodles on the table of the Eight Immortals. There were five pots on the table, and none of the seasoning water and Chili oil fell. She was sweating like a pig, but she was smiling. No, there is a coal stove on one side, and little aluminum pot is boiling water, just as Zhang Chong brought back bean sprouts and cucumbers. Not much, just like a plastic bag. Fanny quickly took it. First, she poured the bean sprouts into boiling water, stirred them twice, and then covered them. Then she conveniently put the four cucumbers into the bucket next to her thigh and washed them, shouting, "Zhang Chong, I'll give you money when you're finished." Zhang Chong had gone far away and turned back and said, "Don't worry." Fene took out the iron fork on the table, skillfully shredded the cucumber, hastily opened the lid and produced an iron net of mung bean sprouts. She tasted it with her fingers and her hands fell off. She quickly fished out all the bean sprouts and frozen them in a cold water basin.

Fanny is busy alone. My daughter got married when she was older, and my son is in college. My husband has worked with others in the vegetable market in Xi 'an for several years and likes drinking. However, in the winter of two years ago, he stayed alone in the house drinking, and a cerebral hemorrhage almost killed him. He was discharged from the hospital and was recuperating at home. Now her hard work is to earn tuition for her son, so she doesn't say anything.

A few men like those who didn't have breakfast stood by and waited. Powder moth has mastered the procedure of selling cold rice noodles on market day, and took a piece of skin and folded it 40% on the chopping board. Like cutting noodles, she pressed her finger on the cold rice noodles with one hand, followed by a knife with the other, and the cold rice noodles with wide fingers were lifted up, which was soft and smooth. Put a small red plastic water ladle into the cold rice noodles, pinch a handful of bean sprouts with three fingers and then a handful of shredded cucumber, tilt the ladle along the basin, lift it with a spoon, pour several materials into the ladle, add a spoonful of oil and pepper, and skillfully stir it into a porcelain bowl that is neither deep nor big. This bowl is one of those full thin-edged porcelain bowls. It is delicious and delicious, and it is comfortable to watch and eat.

There are few people and business is not prosperous. In their words: "You can't make a lot of money, just mix." There are really few people. Before two o'clock in the afternoon, there were almost no people in the street, leaving booths full of people to pick up the goods moved out in the morning. There are fewer people on days without parties. From east to west, empty houses and stone streets, as well as those cement telephone poles, are lifeless and everything seems silent.

The street is an ancient town, most of which are old houses and old wooden boards. Doors and windows are carved with wooden boards, and one door is next to another. Many years ago, in the first month, the candle in a lantern fell down, lit the lantern and burned half the street. Since the late 1990s, streets have been demolished, and there are more and more uneven brick houses, while most old houses have been corroded, dilapidated or even collapsed. Until today, most people have built two or even three-story houses facing the street, and the wooden houses left in the dilapidated ancient town are faintly visible.

This town is changing, and this street was once the envy of the countryside. It is an honor to marry a baby into the street, but the women in the street never leave the street, and there are more businesses with street houses. Country people always envy street people.

The changes of the times have intensified, and thousands of stones have been paved from the east to the west. Grain stations, supply and marketing cooperatives, pig farms and comprehensive factories disappeared in the years. Some old things are becoming more and more invisible. The theater at the west end of the street only knows from the old population that the clearest water "cold water spring" has been filled. The Vulcan building in the east has also become a magical legend, and the ancient streets of rows of wooden houses have also been replaced by houses. When I was a child, I could see "lifting my heart", "walking on stilts" and "playing with social fire" every Spring Festival.

People in the town are also starting to go out. In the past, they were very busy and sat in two rows with old bowls at dinner. It is hard to see such a scene now. It's always the people who set up stalls at the rally. In their own words, "there are more people setting up stalls than taking to the streets." And only a few businesses are really good. In the era of surplus goods, every store is always full of goods, and the people in the last episode are always familiar faces. Suddenly I haven't seen the familiar old man in the series for a few days. I often hear a reply of "death" when I ask. 12 natural villages merged into 5. Later, the township government also merged. A small town with a permanent population of more than 10,000 people now has less than 8,000 people. According to the regulation of "withdrawing villages and merging towns", great changes are taking place in the times. Now, there are only primary schools at the east end of the street and middle schools at the west end of the street. The school's hardware facilities are far superior than before, but there are not many students in nine-year compulsory education. Some of them follow their parents to the city, and some transfer to the city to go to school.

The town government merged and moved, and several seven-story buildings were erected on a large open space behind the street. The resettlement house is like a beautiful scenery. The roads in the hospital are hardened, the open space is green, there are more fitness squares, and the street lights are on at night. The times are advancing rapidly. And the lights in the windows of the building are on, but there are few.

I often walk on empty streets, knowing that if the countryside does not grow, it will be eroded by time, and the ancient town will be reincarnated and once again fall into extreme loneliness and depression. The city is bloated, prosperous and impetuous. Even though most rural people don't feel much happiness in the city, they are just struggling and confused. On that day, we will return to the land where we fled, kneel down to our hometown, repair our wounds and recuperate our body and mind. I feel that time flies, the turbulent heart is attributed to the original intention, and the village is as calm as ever.

(About the author: Yang Xianbo, a shepherd in Shangzhou, Shaanxi. Selected as one of the 100 Outstanding Talents Support Programs of the Provincial Department of Culture. Published three collections of essays, including Going Out of Customs. )