About This Novel
Before noon, Mao Lan went to the field to pick beans. When she went out, Sailor Yao was wearing clothes and squatting in front of the rocks under the eaves, tapping the dry mud like thick scabs on his hoe and the red rust stains like moss soaked by the rain. There was a cigarette in his mouth, and the blue tobacco pipes fluttered upwards, making it difficult to open his eyelids, just like river water lapping against the embankment. He simply closed his eyelids, tilted his head, and tapped the red rust on the hoe surface with a wooden shovel. The beating made Mao Lan's heart bristle, like a cat's claws reaching into her mouth and scratching her lungs and heart valves. Mao Lan was originally knitting a sweater under the peach tree in the courtyard, her ten fingers sliding on the bright silver iron drill.
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