Peas, Black Beans and Lentils
About This Novel
In the early morning, the entire courtyard looked like a stage, and with some light fog, it looked even more confusing. At this time, the eldest brother was squatting on a stubborn stone, covering his head, sharpening a knife. Huff, huff - the sound stepped on the rhythm, spraying out the special smell of iron and stone gnawing at each other, and then rolled out the door far away and merged into the airflow of various flavors. This well-proportioned rhythm inevitably reminds people of the Nanmanzi rock group that came to the village a few years ago to perform tricks. The rhythm during their performances was also like this, bang bang, bang bang... In other people's ears, the sound of the elder brother's persistence in sharpening the knife is of course both uniform and pleasant. But I'm just the opposite. It was a cleavage knife, as wide as a large oak tree, more than a foot long, with a patterned jujube wood handle, a crescent-shaped back, and two grooves on the back of the blade.
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