After reading this story, my head was buzzing and I was speechless.

Hello everyone, I am Jin Zui.

Tonight I will post a very interesting story that happened in my great-grandfather’s time.

On the last day of 2018, I read this story. After reading it, my brain was buzzing and I felt speechless.

The world around me seemed to have completely disappeared.

The buzzing sound was a completely "quiet" sound, like wearing extremely effective noise-canceling headphones.

This is probably because I entered the world created by this story. After reading it, I couldn’t help myself.

The world of the story washes away the real world - and when I am immersed in it, it feels more real than the real world.

I have mentioned before that such immersion is a kind of happy enjoyment, the so-called "selflessness". I don't know if you have had a similar experience.

I share this story just to share this experience.

This story takes place in the late Qing Dynasty, when China first started to build railways - the Northeastern plague incident that Grandpa Kaneki experienced in the winter of 1911 was also at that time.

At the beginning of the story, it was also an extremely cold winter. The morning after a heavy snowfall, a man died in the street. Because his death brought back a cruel past.

A good friend also read this story and gave it a two-word comment: It’s so perverted.

He was talking about several horrific scenes in the story.

This kind of "abnormality" was precisely the "normality" of that era.

My great-great-grandfather Jin Mu saw a "stretching mountain of corpses" in the snow during the Northeastern plague. Coffins were placed three miles away, and tens of thousands of people died.

In this story, there is only one coffin in the snow, and only two people died.

However, this coffin and two deaths will be imprinted in your mind for at least half your life.

It took me 32 minutes to finish reading this story. If interested, you can also try how long it takes.

Why do we calculate time? I will talk about it at the end.

Iron Slurry

Everyone’s face was reflected in the light of snow. This rare heavy snow fell for two nights and one day. Since noon the day before, the local train at 3:20 had not arrived due to snow obstruction.

It is snowing, the weather has not cleared up yet, and the streets of the town are blocked. The store door opened, and the snow wall outside the door was as tall as a person. Finally, the white and cold sky could be seen above the snow wall, which did not suffocate people inside. People greeted their neighbors, heard voices but saw no one, but they were all very happy. They felt that God had played a big joke on them, a gentle and gentle joke, which was quite fresh and interesting.

So that opium smoker Meng Xiangui died in Dongyue Temple. He was not discovered until noon that day. He died at some point.

This bad news spread quickly. In the middle of the town's streets, a narrow path was opened from the deep snow. People seemed to be walking in a tunnel, with the snow walls on both sides higher than their heads. For many years, There has never been such heavy snow. When everyone meets, they always seem to want to cup their hands and say congratulations. The news of Meng Xiangui's death was conveyed in the snow trench, and when hot phlegm was spit on the snow wall, a small light green hole was punched through. Sigh deeply, you should always show some kindness to the dead, but in your heart you feel that this is almost as fresh as this heavy snow.

The train stopped, and the gray smoke and the sound of iron wheels no longer disturbed the town. Suddenly, it returned to the quietness it had twenty years ago.

Several dogs sat around the body, waiting patiently for who knows how long. After people arrived, the dogs sat far away and ran away unwillingly. The corpse was curled up under a pile of messy wheat straw, as if it was a little shy when it died; it didn't hide well even if it was necessary to hide, leaving one bare leg outside. After the Mai Rang was cleared, the railway workers on the station, who rarely came to Dongyue Temple, came to help arrange the funeral arrangements for the deceased.

Jinan Station on the Jinpu Line.

The stiff body could not be straightened, so it was curled up like that, turned over, and lazily allowed others to pull and lift him, with an expression of deliberately pretending to be asleep, as if making fun of someone. When people are asleep, they half-open their mouths and half-close their eyes.

The Meng family has lost all descendants, and there are no relatives to identify the body. A thin coffin was built locally. The snow trench is too narrow and the coffin cannot be carried to Dongyue Temple. The corpse is always parked in the temple for fear of being eaten by dogs, and people from other towns have to talk about it. It must be buried before dark.

The body could not be carried into the narrow snow trench, so the people had to tie two ropes with the polished dog skin left by the deceased, put the body on top, and dragged it all the way to the north of the town. On the edge of the pond to the west of Hua Deafzi's carpenter's shop next to the railway. It's close to the train station, and not far from the railway line is the mass grave.

The corpse was dragged along the snowy ground, curled up in a ball, as if it still knew how to be cold. A stiff arm stretches out of the dog's skin and paddles on the hard snow road. It is blocked by the undulating snow, then bounces back, blocked and bounced back again. It keeps paddling like this. What kind of monotonous movement is it in a craft? . Meng Xiangui had never done any crafts in his life. One can only imagine that in the last few years of his life, this man was always leaning like this under the eaves of the temple, burning bubbles. It was still like this until the heavy snow, with his head pillowed on a black brick. , not afraid of panic.

The town’s land security guard followed behind, carrying a small bag with half of his pipe exposed. Meng Xiangui only left this behind. The land security guard scattered paper money along the way.

One round piece after another of hollow yellow paper is floating in the deep snow trench.

The thin coffin was unpainted. For about the same price as a coat of paint, you can build the same coffin. The original color of the willow wood is flesh-white, but when placed on the snow, it becomes the color of corpse flesh.

Half of the traffic signal flagpole is covered with snow hoops, and several road workers are there to clear the snow from the track change gate. The coffin was parked in an open space on the bank of the pond. It was difficult for the stiff corpse to fit into such a narrow wooden box. It seemed that the deceased was not happy to be buried in such a hasty manner and was reluctant to make his last request. Someone suggested that if you burn more tinfoil for him, the arm that is most in the way might be able to be retracted.

Train signals, signals and signs on train lines, such as traffic lights, flags, etc., are mostly installed at intersections.

"You put his pipe in first. If you don't put it in, he won't give up!"

The old lady couldn't bear it when someone reminded the landowner like this. If you get angry, throw a stack of burning paper into the face of the deceased. "I'm sorry for you, smoker! What kind of life will I have when I die!"

The man had to bend the upright arm - maybe it was broken, and then he could barely close the coffin lid. Deaf Hua, who had been waiting for a long time with an ax in hand, rushed to hammer in the nails. A six-inch iron nail could be driven in with three axes and two axes, but it didn't look like he was a good carpenter. Instead, he looked a little panicked, fearing that the deceased had really managed to get out again.

The coffin is parked here, waiting for the snow to melt before it can be buried. Unless Meng Xiangui committed a crime against the Dog Star after his death, the coffin board would be so thin that the dog would hit his head several times and the board would surely break apart. In the end, the local security guard was asked to mix a jar of lime water and pour it into the coffin.

In the evening, people dispersed sporadically, leaving a lonely new coffin on the snow, surrounded by scattered footprints. The light ashes of incinerated tin foil swirled in the nest of melted snow, and the paper money drifted into the thick ice-covered pond with the cold wind, one after another, and one after another.

There was a black dog sitting on the snowdrift outside the road, its pointed nose swiping in the air from time to time. The child throws snowballs at it, but cannot drive it away.

There is also a market on the other side of the railway, called Daowai. Twenty years ago there was no such thing as Dao Li Daowai.

People calculate for the deceased how many years it took for such a family fortune to decline to such an extent. Counting how many years have passed, people in their thirties still remember the fight to build a salt trough. In those years, the railway had just been laid here. There were no businesses and merchants like today in the town. There was only a salt tank where the government office kept the package, which attracted some foreigners to the town. People from as far away as Jiaozai, Shanxi, came back from abroad. .

In the year when the railway was built, the town was filled with panic and chaos. People are desperately preparing for an unimaginable catastrophe. For these half-agricultural and half-business townspeople, it seems that except for the primitive fears of drought, floods, locust plagues and plagues, which belong to the early people, their lives have always been peaceful and peaceful.

A huge monster is coming, Nezha Hot Wheels is only sung in songbooks, and idle books say that the train is coming here, and no one has seen it. According to the rumors, it is as tall and long as it is, a big black dragon, smoking and burning, roaring and rolling, straightening the line without turning, specializing in capturing the little souls of children. Houses will collapse and the ancestors in the graves will have to be turned over. body. Legend has it that the imperial court allowed the foreigners to defeat the war, so they had to let the foreigners use this to punish the common people.

There was a murder case during the season of measuring the route, and the county magistrate went to the countryside to mediate it, but it was ineffective; did the imperial court allow people to dig up the tombs of the people? You have to protect me even to death! Mr. Zhan, the master of Daotai, led the troops of Green Camp and carried the imperial edict all the way down. The court must be reasonable. The railway was successfully laid and it only took one day to reach Beijing. That's nonsense, it would take five days on a fast horse, and it would take half a month to get there on foot if you get up early. Who goes to Beijing to do this again? I have never been to the city of Beijing in a thousand generations. The crops in the fields are still producing seeds, and the business transactions are all about profit! Who wants to rush to Beijing in one day? In a hurry? Three hundred and sixty suns are enough for a year, and I don’t even bother to remember the months. To remember birthdays, just mention the time when wheat was harvested and when soybeans bloomed. The ancients divided a day and night into twelve hours, which was trivial enough. Divided into 86,400 seconds, it would be even more tasteless.

After two years of railway inspection, there has been no trace of the train. Everyone thought it was a lie, and they guessed that the imperial court had resisted the foreigners again. No matter how much hatred, fear, or random suspicion people have, the railway will just stretch out here day by day, from south to north, and from north to south. Portraits bring bad news, and rumors spread about where the railroad is being built and what village it is. In years of floods, this is how people report where the water is coming, and wherever it goes, the mood of the people is also like this. Among so many people who were panicking and couldn't make up their minds, the old lady was probably the only one who kept her composure; she went to the temple to pray to God, and amid the smoke, the smiling Bodhisattva didn't pat her chest to give anyone any guarantees, which always made the old lady stand out more than anyone else. Hope.

Master Zhan, the Taoist master, came down again, and all the prominent people in the town went to stop the Taoist leader and kneel down. Master Daotai also smiled like the Bodhisattva, and no matter how much he smiled, it was useless. Mr. Zhan was not wearing court clothes, his face was tanned, his sleeves were rolled up two or three times, and a small clock was tied to his wrist. I stayed in the town for one night, but I didn't stay at the town director's house. The county magistrate also felt wronged. The next day, a group of adults went to the south early in the morning and followed the road base. Except for the innkeeper who showed up everywhere with a sign signed by Master Zhan, the people still didn't curse, and they had no hope. They were stunned. Just wait for the train, this foreign monster, to bring disaster.

"The calamity is counting!"

People were cursing and just accepted their fate.

At the same time as the railway was being laid, another major event was agitated in the town, and it was time to subcontract official salt. There are only more than 200 households in the town, and together with the households in nearby villages and towns, there are more than 30 households in the town. When the bid was opened, Meng Xiangui's father, Meng Zhaoyou, bid 11,110 taels of silver. But he wasn't the only one with the highest bid. Shen Changfa was just one tael of silver away from him.

The official's base bid is fixed at only this amount. When the bid is repeated, the government will send a master down to cast lots (niān jiū) in person.

The previous generation of the Meng and Chen families had a long-standing feud. The previous generation had lost one and both sides over the salt trough. Because of that, Meng Zhao looked down on his father all his life. Now a pair of enemies happen to meet again, and Mr. Hong from the county government office comes to resolve the issue twice. If they can't get rid of the two families, they will have to fight.

Both generations of the Meng family are showboaters, not entirely because they are not doing their jobs properly, but mostly because they have some permanent assets.

Meng Zhaoyou has more fluidity and loyalty than me. He is used to fighting with each other, but when he encounters a fat man who wants to make a fortune in the next five years and takes advantage of the situation to wash away the grievances of the previous generation, who can use anything to force him to give up?

"My surname is Meng, who has survived for two generations. I, Meng Zhaoyou, have survived. Don't think that I will be as useless as our old man again!"

Guard the county government and send people down. Mr. Hong, Meng Zhaoyou pulled out a small inlay from his leggings. The shark skin sheath was decorated with big red tassels.

"Shen, if you have the guts, let's fight head-on!"

Shen Changfa is the kind of person who says he is who he is, giving in to those who are tough and suppressing those who are soft. With. Only this time is an exception. Five years of great wealth can make Zhang, Wang, Li and Zhao look like each other.

"Whoever is vague is the grandson!" Shen Changfa rolled up the sleeves of his leather jacket, revealing a long cinnabar mole on his hand and neck.

Mr. Hong sat on the Taishi chair and smoked his hookah, thinking of quail fighting. He reached behind his back and pulled the ends of his braids that were too tight underneath him.

Shen Changfa turned his abacus in his mind: The railway had taken up five acres and six cents of his land, and he was about to build a salt tank to make up for the loss. But the feeling of two stabs is probably more painful than losing five acres and sixty cents of land.

“Go!” He shouted at the three boys in front of him, “Go home and get your grandfather’s knife—the one named Shen didn’t give it to anyone. Thirty years ago, the Shen family Grandpa conquered the world with that precious sword, and his fortune fell on the roof of the Shen family, no doubt about it!”

These words really made Meng Zhaoyou fall into a vinegar vat, and his whole body was stinging in pain. He snorted, cut half of his trousers open, and stepped onto the bench. This is in the large living room of Zhendong's mansion.

"Mr. Hong has a bright mirror, brothers, please make a certificate!"

Meng Zhaoyou held the short knife in front of everyone around him, and stabbed his calf three times. The small inlay was pierced into the flesh until it was translucent, and it was pulled out with a twist. It was done in a formal and clean manner, as if it was not his leg or his flesh. He raised his legs and put them on the back of the Grand Master's chair. He counted them for everyone to see: three swords and six holes, six lines of blood dripping down, and six bloody pockets on the ground.

"What a joke!"

Meng Zhao stood with one leg on the ground, waiting for the sticky black and purple blood to drip down and fall on the floor of the living room. on bricks. The naturally red face and neck did not change color at all. Those present could hear the clicking sound of iron hammers hitting the spikes on the sleepers in the distance, and the sound of gold and stone vibrated in the air. The railway has been built through the town and will soon be connected to the tracks in the neighboring county.

Meng Zhaoyou’s woman gave him a bag of hair ash to stop the bleeding, but he threw it away. The six bloody pockets on the Luodi brick floor almost turned into one.

The third boy of the Shen family then took the knife. It was originally a sheep-killing knife. Shen Changfa's predecessor used it to win the mark of the salt trough from the Meng family. It was later equipped with an ebony plum blossom handle and sheath inlaid with silver. When the knife was pulled out, it looked out of place, and the rough workmanship and fine workmanship did not match. Although the blade was sharply polished, there was no rust at all.

Shen Changfa's eyes were stained red by the blood on the ground. He couldn't tell from his appearance, and his courage was already a little cold. Unless you go under the knife yourself, you would never know how heroic the Master was in creating that family business. He gritted his teeth and stabbed the head with too much force. Half of the blade was exposed on the other side of the calf. There had been no blood for a long time, and the blade was welded. Two people came up to help and pulled it out.

There were two pools of blood in the living room. No one won or lost in this game. Mr. Hong went back to the yamen, leaving the town director to take care of him nearby.

Any kind of dispute is easy to mediate, but no one can get involved in this matter. It is left to the two families to fight, and they watch helplessly as the two opponents play with their own flesh and blood.

Not two days later, a tray was brought to the Zhendong Mansion. There was a large piece of red canvas spread on the tray, and three chopped-off fingers lay across it.

Meng Zhaoyou’s hands were wrapped in cloth, exposing his thumb and index finger. My relatives and neighbors in my family refused to listen, and my friends on the road outside came to persuade me, but it had no effect.

"Could it be that Shen Changfa is such an grievance that my surname is Meng and I still lose to him?"

It seems that if anyone doesn't encourage him to fight, he will be suspected and do the work for the Shen family. A lobbyist.

"Our old man has asked me to carry the stone tablet for thirty years; look, I can hold the salt trough firmly."

The tray was brought back as it was, with the top There were three more bloody fingers. At first glance, he recognized Shen's long hair, but his nails were as thick as wood carvings.

I didn’t expect Shen Changfa to be capable of this. In a rage, he kicked over the screen inlaid with glass fiber and roared like thunder: "Who dares to stop me again? Whoever stops me again is my son!"

He I only have one son. The 20-year-old Meng Xiangui is about to have a wife, and he should be considered an adult. He is a tall and thin man, and his body always seems to have two missing bones. He has to find someone to lean on wherever he stands. There were three twists and turns in the aisle. What kind of figure did Xiaodan appear on the stage? He was just like that. He was not the material to start a business. His father was so miserable that he was so frightened that he hid at his grandma's house ten miles away.

The railway has been laid to the side of grandma’s house. Meng Xiangui has been rushing in front and behind all day long to watch the excitement, and he never gets tired of watching it. No matter how cold the weather or wind, it doesn't bother him. On the day when the railway was connected, the first train was hoisted with dragon flags and colorful red. Car after car, no one has ever seen such beautiful little houses equipped with iron wheels. One after another, they came and went quickly.

Snow is falling in the sky. The train comes and goes in the snow, leaving behind a low gray smoke, leaving behind magic and majesty. People's fear and hatred seem to have dissipated, leaving Meng Xiangui with an indescribable feeling. Kongluo asked himself if he was destined to take a train in this life.

Just when Meng Xiangui vowed to take a train in his life, someone came to his family and he braved the wind and snow to come to report his death. In the end, his father risked his life.

I rushed back to the funeral. I sat in the swaying mule cart all the way, crying and thinking for a while. During the Chinese New Year, he will inherit the official salt trough, and his wish to take the train should really come true. But when he saw his father die so miserably, Hun'er was frightened.

On a snowy day, many people gathered in front of the Zhendong Gate.

The town director is a family with a great reputation. There is a large flagpole in front of the door. The flagpole is tilted and has not been painted for many years. The rim of the flagpole is full of sparrow droppings, as if it had been painted before. A white border.

No one has ever died in such a way as Meng Zhaoyou.

The pig blacksmith who traveled to the town came to the town and set up a blast furnace to do his craftsmanship. There is no other trade that is as exciting, rare and exciting as blacksmithing. It's been a long time since I've seen a monkey show or a wild stage show. Having these things is worth the excitement.

The blast furnace is surrounded by sand molds, including plowshares, shovels, blunderbuss barrels and iron pots. Everyone brought grain, leaky pots, and broken plowshares to exchange for new cast-in-place household items.

The blast furnace spits blue flames and red flames. Two big men stepped on the big bellows and kept stepping. The red and blue flames were stirred until they trembled and rushed upward. He turned the furnace mouth to the sky and swallowed a whole basket of coking coal and pig iron. Everyone was clamoring about what size of pot this one wanted, what size of foreign shells that one wanted, and they were vying for the first batch of goods.

The bottom opening of the blast furnace was twisted open, and the bright red pig iron slurry flowed into the refractory mortar.

The old master who made pig iron held a long iron rod in his hand, brushed off the scum on the surface of the iron slurry, and backed away with a gesture. The two men who were walking on the bellows had buffalo skins tied to their legs. They rushed over clumsily, lifted the heavy mortar, and followed the master's iron staff to pour the thick red iron slurry into the sand molds one by one.

This was the first batch. After pouring it down in one round, the two big men had beads of sweat on their faces. The iron slurry heated up the entire area within seven to eight feet.

"Watermelon soup, really like watermelon soup."

The spectators forgot about the cold, their faces were roasted red by the high heat of the iron slurry, and they thought of the sweet juice squeezed out of the red flesh of the watermelon. son.

“What a watermelon soup, it’s really a great tonic.”

“It’s not a great tonic! Who can drink it? If you drink it, you won’t have to eat steamed buns in your life.”

< p>Just treat it as a joke and make fun of it. It's just that those two enemies shouldn't have met here.

Meng Zhaoyou came up with many surprising ideas, but he always felt that they were not a unique trick, so he caught them.

"Shen, do you hear me? Great tonic watermelon soup."

Both of them lost three fingers, both suffered three blows, separated by a blast furnace Stare.

"Do you have the guts, Mr. Meng? If so, I, Shen Changfa, will accompany you."

During the quarrel, someone else came to report that the train was really coming. I don’t know how many times this has happened, but there are always rumors that it is coming, and it is coming. The people running over gasped, saying that this time was really coming, and the train had already arrived at the Mao'er Nest.

I don’t know how many times I have been deceived, but some people still can’t calm down and rush to the north of the town in waves.

"Master Zhendong, you are our proof."

Meng Zhao has long braids wrapped around his neck. "My unsatisfactory old man has been cursed by me for the rest of his life, and I will fall into the mouth of my son for the rest of his life?"

Zhen Dong was counting with the old master how big this craft could be. To make a profit, ask him how much coking coal it costs to produce a furnace of pig iron, how much the two men earn, and how much it costs per day. "My surname is Meng. I cannot be inferior to others in my last life, and I will be stepped on by others in this life."

"I advise you two to reconcile." The town director advised seriously, but he didn't hear everything. Meng Zhaoyou yelled something to him, "Zhaoyou, listen to me. The two families will pay half of the silver and half will benefit. If you risk your life, you won't be able to bring a single particle of salt into the coffin. You have too many Think about the new theories that my third son told you."

The town director had a third son at the Capital University in Beijing. People in the town called him a foreign scholar, so he persuaded Meng Zhao. Yes:

“If you get angry, there’s nothing you can say.

If you are still obsessed with having great wealth in five years, I'm afraid it will be difficult. "

The foreign champion has cut off his pigtails and speaks with a half-Beijing accent. He is not foreign at all. "You won't believe me. Once the railway is connected, you can't even think about building the salt trough. With you, One day when everything went bankrupt, I said you don’t believe it..."

Not only Meng Zhaoyou couldn’t hear this, but also no one believed it. It’s really unreasonable to have a salt trough and not bring wealth. There is no such example in the history.

There was a strange rumbling sound in the distance. No one had ever heard this sound, except for the foreign champion who came home to celebrate the New Year.

Immediately. Another group of people came to watch the excitement.

The blast furnace's firepower reached its peak, and the blue flames, red and yellow flames trembled, and the pungent sulfur smell came out. The master's iron rod was inserted into the furnace to stir, and the snowflakes mixed with the spurting sparks.

The bottom of the blast furnace was twisted open, and the second furnace of iron slurry slowly flowed out, and the mortar was lifted. The bright red and thick rock fluid rose up little by little.

In the snowy weather, Meng Zhaoyou suddenly took off his upper body. Although three fingers were missing, there seemed to be blood stains on the bandage. It was still fresh, and it was easy to take off the clothes. The snow fell for a long time, but there was no snowflake left on the ground. Aunt Meng was busy at home and rushed over with a hand of flour. Unfortunately, she was too late. No one watching the excitement was on guard against his move.

“Everyone, I, Meng Zhao, have confirmed that he is my son! "

This man was shirtless, with long braids tied around his neck. He jumped up and held up the end of the mortar that had flowed into it.

"I Meng Zhao is guaranteed! "

Shouted at his opponent Shen Changfa, holding up the iron mortar with both hands, holding it high, high. No one dared to rush up and stop it, who could handle such hot magma? Dare you risk your life to mess with it? The master of cast iron was too stunned to take a step forward.

Everyone watched helplessly as Meng Zhaoyou poured the bright red iron slurry into the sand mold. It was poured into the open mouth.

It was only a very short glance, and it was poured into the mouth. The iron slurry poured down on the head and face, and there was a burst of yellow smoke wrapped in milky white steam. Going up to the sky, there was an explosion of lettuce thrown into the boiling oil pan, and the stench of burning meat immediately spread out. Everyone seemed to be hit by the hot magma, and everyone seemed to hear Meng screaming in fear. There was a scream, almost like tinnitus, that lingered for a long time.

But it was a long, loud sound from the train whistle.

< p>Meng Zhaoyou fell down in a burst of smoke and fell on his back to the ground.

The iron slurry quickly turned into veins of black tree roots, covering his red and black body. . The solidified pig iron is like a big black claw, tightly grasping the pile of burnt rotten meat.

The master's legs are still shaking weakly.

The whole head was completely burnt and black, and one could not recognize which part of it was the nose or which part was the mouth - just now he was still shouting, "I, Meng Zhao, have a guarantee!" "The mouth.

The black ash of the hair swirled around with a small whirlwind, and then drifted away. The yellow smoke curled up from the body, and the cotton pants were still burning. Simmering.

A shocking sound of iron wheels came from the north of the town, and it sounded like countless iron cavalry galloping on the frozen ground. Half of the sky was covered, and the sky immediately darkened.

The few people present had no color on their faces, and they stared at each other in panic, not knowing whether it was because of Meng Zhaoyou's tragic death or because of that hidden person. The train carrying evil spirits and disasters really came, and I was so frightened.

The wind and snow came in waves, and when it got dark, the ground was covered in heavy snow. It was buried so heavily.

Only the woman's mournful cries and plaintive scoldings broke the silence.

The unpopular train stayed here day and night. Harassing this town. The train comes and goes, roaring, shouting, and beating, forcing people to accept their fate.

The train brings people no need and no importance. New things; the Communications Bureau built a green house in the town, outsiders came to sell foreign oil, newspapers and alkali, and the train forced people to know what time a day was and how many minutes an hour was.

Half a year after it opened to traffic, only two people in the town dared to walk into the belly of the big black dragon, the foreign champion and the young master of the official salt trough, Meng Xiangui.

The salt trough was in the hands of the Meng family, and after half a year, three thousand taels of silver fell into their hands. This was regarded as the most loyal official salt. At the end of the first year, the net profit was 7,600 taels. Meng Xiangui bought land and built buildings, got wives and maids, and became addicted to smoking.

The train did not bring any disaster to the town, but Meng Zhaoyou died so tragically. Everyone said that Meng Zhaoyou was sent by God to break the evil spirit. But the wise words of the foreign champion did not come to fruition. By the second year, the salt merchants' salt packages were put on the train, which passed through the town without stopping. This year we lost more than one hectare of land. Kerosene lamps and foreign soaps were used in the town. One has to calculate what time it is to catch the train. To say how dissatisfied people are with trains, it is that they only want people to wait for them, not for them to wait for people.

Five years have passed, and ten or twenty years have passed. There is a white coffin poured with lime water parked in the deep snow beside the railway.

The moon shined through the clouds this night, illuminating the dazzling snow, the snow-covered railway, and the lonely coffin, with dogs watching around it.

There was a white dog who was very restless, walking back and forth, and only its shadow could be seen moving on the snow.

The clouds move southward, just like the moon rushing towards the north.

I don’t know which of the dogs is willing to hit the first one.

The white dog looked at the half-moon on the flag sign, bared its snow-white teeth, and roared softly. Then he scratched his hooves angrily, raising bursts of snow smoke, digging a deep hole in the snow. He lay down, and his shadow disappeared, but he was still roaring lowly.

The half-moon lamp was covered by floating clouds again. How deep is the night? Everyone is asleep, deeply asleep.

1961·5·Overseas Chinese Love / Zhu Xining