Childhood partners

As far as I can remember, my childhood was very happy. Although I heard from my mother that there were days when I was hungry, the taste of being hungry did not leave any shadow in my heart.

All I can remember is the happy scene when I dug wild vegetables and bean sprouts on Xiaonan Mountain in spring and I chased each other.

My third aunt's bean sprout brother, with a thick leg and a thin leg, walks behind my ass all day and wriggles around.

I don't quite remember how bean sprouts became my best friend before school. I seem to remember only once-he followed me and did something that made him a traitor.

As far as I can remember, it's already a little hot. My mother told me that you will go to school in a few days.

I am not interested in going to school. I know that after school, I just got an extra schoolbag and a slate with four sides framed with wood.

That schoolbag was sewn for me by grandma sitting next to the spinning wheel with a few rags, and the belt was as long as her foot cloth. nine

That slate was bought by my mother when she went to the city for a women's cadre meeting a few days ago, and it is no different from the slate used by my eldest brother and third brother.

Mom said that your name has been found by your uncle across the hall. So, I heard the name Zhang Long from my mother for the first time, and this name has been with me for decades.

I asked my mother, what's the name of my third aunt's bean sprouts? Mom shook her head and said, stay for a few days and go to school, and you will know.

But I can't wait. I'll ask bean sprouts. I jumped out of the house, crossed the east-west street in the middle of the village behind the house and jumped into my third aunt's house.

I walked down the street with bean sprouts. After a while, we followed the other three children.

Those three children don't want to play with me. They know that I love hitting people, and they often avoid me. But that day, the devil did something. They learned to twist bean sprouts and finished with me.

It's already a little hot. But I remember it very clearly. It was a late spring day.

We took off our clothes and pants together, and the warm sunshine wrapped our naked little bodies.

We walked out of the village with our own clothes and pants in our hands and walked into a wheat field on Xiaonan Mountain.

The newly sprouted wheat shows a persistent old green color in the sun. I lead my team.

* Charging in the old green space.

Wheat groaned and fell one by one in our cheers.

Later, we began to pull wheat like adults.

We forgot everything in heaven and earth. Our little hands are full of blood bubbles. Our bodies are covered with wheat green blood.

Suddenly, a child shouted, Run, the donkey is always coming.

The old donkey is the head of our village. We were all spanked by him for stealing peanuts and sweet potatoes from the production team.

I quickly jumped off the weir and spread my feet along a small ditch.

Probably in the evening, when I was recording work scores, my mother and several other adults were left in the feeding room by the old donkey.

The next thing is simple. Our five children were all beaten up by their parents without exception.

The pain in my ass made me open my mouth, and my mother put down the latch until my crying tempted my grandmother's tears.

In the adult's story, I learned that bean sprouts limped on one leg and failed to run past the old donkey's bowleg.

Bean sprouts were given to four of us.

Later, I watched the revolutionary modern Peking Opera "The Red Lantern" and watched it again and again. I have repeatedly said to bean sprouts, Wang, you traitor!

I put my hand in the shape of a gun and shouted at the bean sprouts twice. Bean sprouts croak with me.

Of course, any traitor will come to no good end. Bean sprouts were beaten by my uncle for the first time because of this.

Third aunt didn't hold the bean sprouts in her arms as usual. Three aunts and three uncles moved their hands together, and bean sprouts were beaten and dragged around the yard with a lame leg.

I have never seen bean sprouts beaten, which was once an unsolved mystery in my childhood.

I didn't know until I was a teenager that my uncle and aunt didn't play bean sprouts, and it's not a pity that he was lame.

In the discussion of adults, I vaguely know that we have made a big mistake, and we have lost 100 Jin of wheat that is on the verge of death. That's food for two families for a year.

Our village is a mountain village, with more than 200 adobe huts scattered randomly on a high hill. Two-thirds of the land in our village is hilly, so if it doesn't rain, we may not get crops. In a plot like Xiaonanshan, an acre of wheat is only a few tens of kilograms.

This incident paved the way for us to be beaten by the primary school principal Zhou Pipi on the first day of school.

The matter of pulling wheat soon disappeared from our memory. In those days when we were waiting for school, we were still alive happily, completely unaware that Zhou pee was waiting for us.

The classroom in primary school is the temple of our Zhang family. At a time I can't remember, the adults burned the genealogy and wooden signs hanging all over the walls. They left the big pieces that used to be tables and used them as our desks.

There is an old locust tree in front of my temple, and I dare not even hug bean sprouts. There is a big black hole where the old locust tree branches. I often hide in it when I lie on the cat.

There is a tall dead tree in the courtyard of the temple. In summer, many swallows like to squat on dead trees and squeak.

Grandma said that a long time ago, there lived a nest of weasels in the locust tree cave, and they all became good, and they were friendly neighbors with the whole village, and both sides got their places.

I don't remember what year it was. Wars are raging and bandits are everywhere. Zhang's men offended bandits, who entered the village at night and set fire to the temple. The big cypress tree in the yard couldn't resist burning to death. The old pagoda tree in front of the door was not dead, but was burnt by the fire. Where is the weasel? She moved away with her daughter.

The doorway of our temple is quite high, 12 floor. Often, students who don't have enough to eat have to sit down and rest on the middle steps to save enough energy to cross the scarlet threshold.

On both sides of the gate are two small black tile houses with the same appearance, which are connected with the courtyard wall of the temple. In the east, the headmaster Zhou Pipi lives, and in the west, Mr. Wang lives.

Zhou Paipi is a white-haired old man with fine eyebrows and small eyes. Miss Wang is a beautiful girl with two big braid combs.

The main hall has eight rooms with blue bricks and black tiles, and the west four rooms contain second-class and third-class rooms. Our first and fourth grades occupy the fourth room in the east.

Zhou Bapi teaches Dongsi. Zhou's strict skinning has made many fourth-grade students whisper behind their backs. We can hear that they are full of envy for their classmates in senior three and senior two.

At that time, there was a text in the textbook called "Cock at Midnight", which was said to have been written by a small long-term worker who had not attended school for a few days. The fourth-grade students also used this passage as a script, rehearsed the drama of the same name and participated in the report performance of Children's Day on June 1st. There is an old landlord in this text. His name is Zhou Bapi. It is probably this passage that gave President Zhou a nickname, giving him a more memorable name like many adults and children in Zhangjiawa.

On that sunny day, we stood in the courtyard of our temple, wearing new clothes that my mother tried her best to make, listening to the peeping Mondays and reading our names.

Those names are so strange and even annoying to us that they are often forgotten by us. We are more accustomed to calling each other by their birth names or nicknames. Like bean sprouts, like stalks, like old sows ... these nicknames or nicknames are so enjoyable to call in your mouth.

After roll call, Zhou skinned me and said, you-and pointed to bean sprouts and three other partners, and said, and you-you-you-you, you all come with me.

Like a group of chicks just hatched by hens, we followed Zhou Pi into his dormitory and office.

We were packed with the east hut near the temple gate.

There is a small kang near the south window of the hut. Under the kang, there are three pumping stations. Zhou skinned the bean sprouts and bumped his ass against the corner of the table.

Bean sprouts were unprepared and grinned with pain. Zhou skinned him, gave him a mouth and said, don't scream. Give him an extra mouth if he shouts. Say that finish, he pushed the bean sprouts, grabbed my arm.

With the precedent, I held back the pain and didn't scream. The last three didn't call.

As a result, the unlucky bean sprouts got one more bite than us. No wonder he has been crying after the first class.

I don't remember the content of that class clearly, but I remember that the cheeks of bean sprouts were covered with tears.

After running a lap, Zhou said, I want you to remember that if you go to school and become a student, you must study hard and make progress every day. If you want to do bad things again, you will be punished. Remember pulling wheat?

We whisper, remember.

So, I learned the first word after school, punishment.

What is punishment? Punishment is to give you a good beating. The punishment is that you break the rules and someone punches you. I remembered this punishment and thought about it all my life.

Most of the memories left in the first and second grades of primary school are related to bean sprouts and cats, dogs and birds in the Shan Ye River.

As an adult, I sat down with some primary school students to drink and chat, and listened to them recite the moon, the moon, water, rocks, fields and texts I didn't remember. I used to be sad for my poor memory.

Indeed, I don't even remember the pinyin I must have learned, so that when I started writing novels on the computer, I had to ask my son to make up lessons for me.

You may not believe it, from grade one to grade five, bean sprouts and I have always been deskmates.

We sit in the first row of the classroom. There are seven people, one girl and six boys.

One Sunday, six of us boys shaved our heads. When Zhou Bapi came into the classroom with a textbook, the monitor of the fourth grade shouted and stood up, and Datong University behind him laughed together.

Zhou stared his little eyes into two funny dots.

Bean sprouts and I are female classmates. According to the Zhang family's seniority, we should call her aunt. But son, who cares? In class, when Zhou skinned away from the podium, I took my penis out of my pants and showed it to my aunt's head.

If bean sprouts don't listen to me, I will kick his ass after class. Finally my aunt told Zhou Pipi about me. After my palm was beaten by a bamboo board, my aunt moved away from me and bean sprouts.

I lived with bean sprouts for five years.

After talking for a long time, you don't know the name of bean sprouts. Yes, bean sprouts are just a nickname. However, this does not seem to matter. It may be easier for you to remember that bean sprouts are my best childhood friends.

My childhood friends and I, like our parents and grandparents, almost everyone has a nickname.

In those years when I especially wanted to live a good life, my hometown folks had a mantra-don't get rich without nicknames.

When you walked into our village at that time, you would often hear such words-the old donkey entered Xiaohua Mall's home again today. Dog intestines rolled on the Bailong River embankment and on the bench. The cruel man on the bench loved his brother, and beat the first stone in the dog's intestine red, posing as a war-torn figure.

These words will be told to today's children with relish like fairy tales.

My third aunt's nickname is hooping spell. Bean sprouts is her only child, a thin and short boy who walks like a stilt.

This boy is one month younger than me. When I was a child, I was inseparable from him.

We used to sit in my yard together and take off our pants, which were bigger than anyone's penis. Moreover, we try to squeeze the foreskin of our penis in an attempt to have a big, bald head like an adult.

We have also slept on the kang many times, heard the story of Cowherd and Weaver Girl, and heard the story of Fox's wife.

My house and my aunt's house are separated by a street, and our two gatehouses are opposite. In those years when my sisters came into this world crying, I often slept in my third aunt's house.

My uncle is a breeder of the production team, feeding cows and donkeys, and eating and living in the feeding room all the year round. So, on the kang, it was just me, bean sprouts and my third aunt.

I still remember the first time I saw bean sprouts, but I forgot. Bean sprout said that he only remembered a group of dark people that night, with men and children in the main house and the yard outside the window. He cried several times in fear.

I said, not at night, and I don't remember you crying, let alone so many people in your family. I said during the day.

Early in the morning, a red and green sedan chair was carried by four bald men wearing red clothes in red trousers. With the sound of the horn, it skipped into Zhangjiawa.

The bullet of the sedan chair reached his uncle's door, and two women came forward to lift the red curtain of the sedan chair. A peach-faced daughter-in-law, three aunts and a thin bean sprout.

I remember very clearly that morning, bean sprouts wore a red trousers with the same color and style as the bearers' underwear, just like a rabbit stared at by an eagle, curled up in a woman's arms.

Grandma often talked about her third aunt's wedding night when she was alive. Grandma said that those men bullied people, knowing that they had raised their children in their parents' homes, and they were so noisy, touching and pinching. It's a pity, poor bean sprout child.

I was four years old that year. I only remember the bean sprouts like rabbits and the beautiful faces of aunts like peach blossoms, vaguely like a dream.

Mother said, thanks to a short meeting I gave several female captains in advance, I let them rush in when they were in trouble and took her down to the kang and hid her in the back room.

As a person, I can imagine the night that often appears in the memory and mouth of adults later.

Bean sprouts said, really, he cried several times that night.

When I was a child, my nickname was Da Xun Handle. Until today, when I think of these three words, there is still a warm current in my heart.

As the name implies, you can guess that I was definitely taller and bigger than my peers when I was a child.

Yes, I am a head taller than bean sprouts, and my arms are thicker than the thin legs of bean sprouts. Of course, my energy is much stronger than bean sprouts. Because of this, I have quarreled with others for another nickname, bean sprouts, and even with children in other villages several years older than us.

Those children don't know where to know the story of bean sprouts. When they see bean sprouts, they love shouting, pulling bottles and eating sour Xinger. Grandma won't kiss them, and they are old.

Bean sprouts and I have known since we were six or seven years old that the nickname "drag bottle" is malicious.

When bean sprouts were shouted like that, I only knew that my face was flushed, but I didn't. As long as someone dares to call a drag bottle in front of us, I will definitely rush up and wrestle with him.

Once, I teased his little sparrow with bean sprouts in his yard. I wonder what suddenly occurred to him. He said to his third aunt sitting on the threshold, Mom, tell me where my father is.

My third aunt looked at me and said, your father is grandpa.

Bean sprouts said, you lie.

Bean sprouts also said, you go out and talk to people in the village. I'm not a drag, I want to order bean sprouts.

Third aunt held bean sprouts in her arms and said, good boy, who will call you that again in the future? You go home and tell me, and I'll go to his house and rip his mouth off.

Third aunt called me to her again, touched my head and said, you two should take good care of each other and don't be bullied.

A string of water dripped on my hand. I looked up and saw two small rivers flowing on my aunt's peach-blossom red face.

Until today, who is the father of bean sprouts is still a mystery in my hometown.

In my memory, my third aunt is a beautiful and powerful woman. She is often seen quarreling with men in the fields of crops and production teams

Three aunts and six grandmothers swear, and everyone will be afraid when they see it. She doesn't even care that the elders of the brigade call donkeys.

Once, the old donkey was scolded by her and driven out of the cornfield.

Many people saw this scene, and everyone blinked at the old donkey and said something that we children couldn't understand.

However, the third aunt is very kind to bean sprouts and his uncle.

His uncle is a disabled soldier. Among his peers, he is the only one who has been abroad in our village.

His uncle has been to North Korea. It was in that unimaginable place that his uncle lost the last thing he wanted to lose.

His uncle lost that thing and his face lost its luster. My uncle's face is full of potholes, and the color is the same as the bottom of the pot.

Without that thing, his uncle became a famous disabled soldier in our hometown.

My third aunt lives in a neighboring village and must know that her uncle doesn't have that thing. However, four years later, after her mother gave birth to bean sprouts, she let the matchmaker marry her uncle.

His uncle married his third aunt, and he was insatiable for the men in our village. Of course, three aunts and three uncles' love for bean sprouts also spoiled us children.

Bean sprouts dress best and eat best among children of all ages in our village. None of us has ever seen bean sprouts wear patched clothes. I asked bean sprouts to go to school with me, and I often saw my third aunt cooking pancakes for him.

Small oil cake is a rare good thing in my childhood memory.

My family is still a rich advocate in the village. At that time, my father was an officer in the army and sent money home once every six months.

Sleepy at night, I often see villagers coming into my house to borrow money from my mother. Rao, in my impression, it seems that I only shared a cupcake with my sister once. Grandma made it for us.

I forgot why my grandmother cooked pancakes for us. I only remember that my mother went to a meeting. My grandmother dug out half a bowl of white flour from the noodle jar, mixed it with water into a paste, cut a handful of chopped green onion, poured a few drops of oil into the pot, heated the pot, and gently poured the paste into a circle. Burn another fire and shovel out a yellow and white cake.

Small pancakes smell good! I put my half in my mouth, chew slowly, taste slowly, so happy!

Over the years, I often think of my childhood, and I often think of the beauty intertwined with childhood happiness.

I once asked my wife to cook pancakes for me several times like grandma. I don't know if my wife didn't get it or if I've enjoyed all kinds of food in my mouth for decades. I didn't find the good feeling I left in my mouth when I was a child.

One day after a heavy rain, several retired neighbors and I went to the ditch in the west of the city to catch fish.

I caught six thumb-sized grass carp and crucian carp. Go home happily, tell your wife, learn from your third aunt, wash the small fish, put them in a bowl, pour a little peanut oil, pinch a pinch of chopped green onion, salt, vinegar and soy sauce, and steam the fish in a pot. When the fish was steamed, I ate it, but it didn't feel as wonderful as when I was a child at my third aunt's house.

Until I returned to my hometown in my twenties, I often liked to go fishing in Bailong River in the east of the village.

At that time, Bailong River had not dried up, and it had not become a stinking ditch for urban sewage and urban sundries. Although I don't have the clear water, yellow sand and green grass of my childhood, I can touch two bowls of fish in one morning.

I took off my clothes like peeling bean sprouts when I was a child, went upstream and fished in the grass submerged by the river on the shore. Of course, I have an extra pair of underwear on my ass than when I was a child. When fishing, I always think of many interesting things about bean sprouts.

Bean sprouts are soft-hearted We all laughed at his cowardice at that time. Don't say he didn't dare to crush a bird that didn't feed much, and even a fish didn't dare to wear it on the dog's tail grass.

When fishing, we always find a thick and long dog tail grass on the river bank, bite it in our mouth, touch a fish and put it on the dog tail grass.

A master fisherman like me can often use two green bristlegrass.

But bean sprouts are different from us. Bean sprouts dig a bunker by hand on the wet beach, and soon the bunker will ooze half a pit of water. He caught the fish and put it in the sandpit.

This has two disadvantages. First, running back and forth is a waste of time. Second, it is easy for others to steal fish.

I played with several partners for this. They took advantage of the opportunity to dig a bunker to drink water at the seaside, fished up the fish with bean sprouts and quietly spread their own dog tail grass.

When I see this kind of thing, I always rush over rudely, grab the fish first, and then give them a few feet.

Bean sprouts bring fish home, and they don't have to be washed out and cooked like us.

Bean sprouts always keep small fish in clay pots, and when they die, they are allowed to be cooked for him in a bowl by Third Aunt.

Of course, bean sprouts can't touch a few fish, and even if they die together, they don't need the cauldron at home.

Bean sprouts are not only bad for catching fish, but also bad for raising birds.

In my memory, it seems that all my childhood friends loved keeping birds, so I also remember several experts in keeping birds.

Like my second aunt's third brother, that's really amazing. No matter what kind of birds he keeps, they grow fast and are loyal to him. The third brother walks in front, and his bird can fly with him, but it can't fly, so it just runs and jumps behind with the wings of Daling. Often I am too greedy to ask him for birds.

However, the bird came into my hand and I fed it, but it just didn't open its mouth. I had no choice but to give it back to my third brother.

Bean sprouts don't raise birds well, and they are as thin as him. Judging from the hairless meat and eggs, birds won't fall when it's time to fall into their hands. When it's time to fly, the birds can't fly, the bean sprouts are flushed and tears flow out of them.

Old three told him, do you know why your bird is not as good as others'? You don't feed it alive!

The third brother also told me and Bean Sprouts that all the birds we usually raise like to eat alive except a few birds.

Yes, third brother has a point. Bean sprouts never catch grasshoppers, crickets and spiders to feed their birds like us. I asked him why he always asked my third aunt to cook eggs and millet for him to feed the birds. Bean sprouts said, I see those living things with heads and legs, and I feel bad when birds swallow them alive.

Pity those living things? ! I can't help laughing. I said, who told them that they were born to eat other people's food? Blaming their own incompetence, we caught them.

If you keep birds every year, you will die. My bird died. I threw it into the pigsty, packed the bird box, climbed a tree at home, dug one out and raised it from scratch. The bean sprouts killed the bird, but it was terrible. He always wants to cry.

It happened that the bean sprout bird was sick and loved to death. For a year, I don't know how many tears he shed for a dead bird.

The most unforgettable time was in my yard. There is a pomegranate tree under the east window of my house, with lush foliage. The fiery pomegranate flowers are like red lanterns, which make the yard red.

I sat under the pomegranate tree with bean sprouts to train our birds. The birds with bean sprouts are sparrows, the most common sparrows, and the birds we keep the most.

That little sparrow has finally lived up to the pains of bean sprouts and can already fly. Bean sprouts put it on the short branch of pomegranate tree, stood three or four steps away, hooked the sparrow with his fingers and shouted.

The sparrow cocked its head and glanced at the bean sprouts, flapped its wings a few times and flew to his arm.

Bean sprouts put sparrows on pomegranate trees again and again, and sparrows flew to bean sprouts again and again, making them stand straight in the yard screaming.

We are so happy that we don't know when my old civet cat quietly approached the pomegranate tree.

When the sparrow squatted on the pomegranate branch, ready to do the flying action made by bean sprouts again, the old cat suddenly jumped on the tree and bit the sparrow.

I screamed at the same time with bean sprouts and rushed to catch the old cat.

The old cat was spinning around the yard with a sparrow in its mouth, and bean sprouts and I followed. I heard the sound of bean sprouts.

When the sparrow was finally snatched from the old cat's mouth, it was already dead.

I hit the old cat on the roof, and the bean sprouts were sitting in the yard, crying with sparrows in their hands.

After crying for a while, the bean sprouts went home and found a beautiful iron box with three aunts' cloth tickets and three uncles' disabled soldiers' certificates. They asked me, what do you think of this coffin?

I said, good is good, aren't you afraid of third aunt looking for it?

Bean sprouts were silent, sobbing and clicking. I buried the iron box with sparrows under the pomegranate tree.

Compared with bean sprouts, I was a particularly cruel person when I was a child. Think about how many creatures I killed when I was a child!

My favorite is snakes. People in our hometown call it a bug.

When I chase a worm, bean sprouts always stand by and say, stop fighting.

When I killed a long worm and hung it on sorghum or a small tree to skin it, the little face of bean sprouts often turned white with fear.

I gently cut the corners of the mouth of the worm with a knife. Then, I pulled it off, pulled my head off, pulled the skin off and tried to fade. A red stick came out.

Light a fire, cut the worm into pieces and bake it on the fire. I forced bean sprouts to eat with me.

I asked if the bean sprouts were delicious, and he whispered bit by bit, delicious.

The most exciting thing is to burn mountain rat to eat.

When the autumn harvest is over, adults plant autumn harvest crops and students harvest them again. We followed the example of the Japanese devils, holding a few dogs, carrying a big shovel on our shoulders as a 38-style, and carrying a small shovel in our hands as a box gun, posing as a mop-up and heading for the bare fields.

Anyone who finds mountain rat Cave will shout, Come on, there are tunnels and earth dam roads.

We send people to guard the visible air holes, and then we take turns waving small shovels to dig mouse holes. Often behind the mouse's ass.

Watching the mice scrape the soil backwards in a panic, and watching the fresh and smelly soil being kicked around by the mice, we will sing loudly, courageously strive for the first place, and cross the Yalu River with great energy. Defending peace and defending the motherland means defending hometown.

At this time, the dogs will be ready to move, sniffling, squeezing forward, dancing their paws quickly and helping us dig holes.

Finally, the exhausted mouse obediently shrank in the mud and surrendered to us and the dog.

The peanuts, corn, soybeans and sorghum in the rat warehouse belong to the production team, and rats and their cubs have become delicious in our mouths.

Divide several people to pick grass, leave two people to make a stove, put mice on cotton locust sticks and make a fire.

We can hear the splash of swallowing in the creaking barbecue.

At that moment full of expectation, bean sprouts will sit alone on the weir, staring at his small eyes the size of a mouse's eyes, looking at the blue sky in late autumn, thinking about their own ideas that others will never guess.

……