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My father is now a fisherman. Previously, people in Yangshu Village called him the "Knife Boss." The people of Yangshu Village were pointing fingers behind my father's past struggles and doing almost nothing now, but in the end, all the words he wanted to say turned into spittle and were swallowed. The Yangtze River estuary is 400 kilometers away from our Yangshu Village, and a pocket is deliberately left. Don't underestimate this pocket. Over 400 kilometers away, the fish that migrate to produce seeds are mature. The "three delicacies of the Yangtze River" were born here. The river fish here are abundant, and the river fish is even more coveted. Those trash fish are called "the eight delicacies of the Yangtze River." Now my father is busy in this pocket. He goes in and out of the courtyard gate every day, coughing, and there is always a puff of smoke behind him. The cigarettes he smokes are considered high-end in our Yangshu Village. People in the village say this is a disease caused by being a boss in the past - his posture cannot be reduced.

Feilong Chemical Plant is located at the entrance of the village and is built against the mountain. Behind it is Bailong Mountain. The high courtyard wall is made of red bricks and is as tall as a person. The current height is due to reinforcement. It was covered with broken glass and iron spikes. In the past, the fence only had three sides, and the hillside behind it was steep. Later, a fence was built to take advantage of the mountain. The winding walls look like a heavily guarded prison or a military restricted area. As for that part of the hillside, it looks like a mysterious stronghold from the bushes. The gate facing the village entrance is very grand, even more majestic than the telecommunications building in the town. Silk colored flags were erected on the gate tower, fluttering in the wind. The chemical plant was as quiet as a prison. The roar of the machine does not sound noisy from outside the wall, but is slightly dull and mute. The workers all live in the town, and there are dormitories in the town. Several buses take workers to and from get off work every day.

Wang Maotian yawned endlessly after filling out his ballot, then lay down on the table and fell asleep. When the election results came out, old man Maotian was sleeping in a deep sleep. The people next to him finally woke him up: Old man Wang, the hat of village party secretary is on your head! Then, Deputy Secretary Lu of the town knocked on the microphone and called Wang Maotian to the podium. The old man Maotian's face suddenly started to feel feverish, and he wished he could get into the hole in the table. He blushed and said rudely, "I'm not kidding, I'm not joking. I'm not joking. I'm not joking. I'm not joking. I'm not kidding. I'm not kidding. I'm not kidding. I'm not kidding. I'm not joking." Wang Maotian ran out of the village compound, still feeling embarrassed and angry. The party members and the masses in Dashanwozi Village are the same. They always treat elections as a joke, casting some weird people to make a fool of themselves, and just use them for fun on weekdays.

Ding Guoyi was the secretary of the Municipal Party Committee. He retired a year ago. Unable to bear the snobbery of the officialdom, he decided to flee the city and return to his hometown of Dongyu Village with his wife to celebrate the New Year. When he was in power, Ding Guoyi did many good things for Dongyu Village, but after he stepped down, the people in his hometown wiped out all the good things he had done, which made Ding Guoyi very uncomfortable. He discovered three unsolvable mysteries: the first was the death of Ma Jixiang, who was only one or two years older than him, the second was the resignation of the mayor Li Jun, and the third was a bunch of sarcastic remarks from the village party secretary Sun Zhirong. Ding Guoyi could no longer stay in Dongyu Village, so he fled back to the city. After reading this, we find: the story has just begun... On the afternoon of New Year's Eve, Ding Guoyi and Wang Hui walked into Dongyu Village.

The whole of northern Shaanxi was taking a nap for a long time. When I woke up from a nap in the summer when I was a teenager, I always felt that something was too late, that I couldn't catch up, that I was abandoned by a large group of people and a big thing. Now I wake up alone from my nap again, knowing that someone is in my dream, that someone has gone somewhere unknown, that there are some things and that some people have forgotten me. Sometimes I am afraid of those who are sleeping and feel that my whole being has been abandoned. Since I was a child, I was nominally adopted by my uncle, my third father. In dialect, we call our father's elder brother and younger brother daddy, and the eldest is the father. In writing, I am used to calling him uncle, and sometimes I call him little daddy. My uncle herds sheep every day.

The stage in early winter is set up in the harvested rice fields, high and simple. Standing under the stage and looking up from the gaps in the stage, you can clearly see the actors' clothing, gestures, and their faces lowered in contemplation. When people on the stage hurriedly walked somersaults or fought, dust and mud would fall from the top, and the children below would scream and run away. There was no electricity, and there were two large gas lamps hanging on the left and right sides of the crossbar in front of the stage. They hissed and shone with a blinding white light. A large number of moths flapped their cold wings and danced excitedly in the light. The rice paddies, hills and trees in the villages are filled with theatergoers, who come from nearby villages or further afield. In the 1950s and 1960s, theater viewing was a grand event in rural areas. It doesn't matter whether the play is good or not. What's important is the activity of watching the play itself, which brings infinite happiness to lonely rural areas.

The town of Chumi began as a small street. The middle line of the small street is the boundary between the two villages, Shipai Village to the north and Lanbazi Village to the south. There used to be a boundary marker on the dividing line. At that time, Shipai Village and Lanbazi Village were fighting over land, and every time they fought, there would be casualties. The boundary markers were moved here today and moved there tomorrow, and they were knocked down and smashed from time to time. Legend has it that during the Ming Chenghua period, the county magistrate came to Chumi to resolve a dispute. He built a small stone house under the boundary monument and locked up a beggar who came here to beg. Beggars are no longer beggars and are revered as road gods. The boundary monument is protected by the road god. No one dares to move it anymore, and the land boundary is no longer in dispute. During the street reconstruction in 1996, the dirt road was changed to a cement road. Before paving the cement, the street was leveled and large stones were used as roadbed. The soil at the boundary markers was removed. Some people said that they saw it with their own eyes and saw no bones or coffins.

Bi Kunlin, Han nationality, whose pen name is Shijing Woman, was born in 1987 in Yangyang, Shangluo, Shaanxi. He has created the novels "The Smile of an Angel" and "Heart of Grass in the Mood for Love", a collection of essays and essays "Flowers Stained with Zen", a collection of short and medium stories "Love as soon as the flowers bloom" and "Children's Village", a collection of poems "Dreams Are Horses", and more than 3 million words. Member of Shaanxi Provincial Writers Association, Shaanxi Provincial Youth Writers Association, and Shaanxi Prose Prose Society. Currently working for Shanyang Federation of Literary and Art Circles and editor of "Tianzhu Mountain" magazine. Eryuhe is a small and almost invisible village hidden in the mountains of the Qinling Mountains in southern Shaanxi. You can't find it on the criss-crossing map of Shaanxi. Unless you narrow the search scope from provinces to cities and counties, you can see it. Two thin and short lines converge into one place, with the words "Eryu River" next to it. The village stretching along the river for more than ten kilometers was named "Eryuhe Village" after the river.

When they reached the fork in the road, Lianxiang said to Alian, "Sister, let's go to Jiashigou together." Alian shook his head, "Zhiren naturally has his own reasons for doing this. You go first, and we will wipe away the footprints." Zhixin fell to his knees, and Alian touched his head, "Don't let Zhiren down, take care of the children. With them, we are worth it." The old man, woman, and children cried. After a while, Ertu asked: "Why don't you come with us?" Alian shouted, "Don't cry, hurry up, let's rush to the deer and make our footprints deeper." Only then did Erjin and Ertu understand that Alian and the others were trying to protect everyone, and Lianxiang said softly, "Let's go, don't let Zhiren down." When Zhixin took the children to Toad Rock, the officers and soldiers had already arrived at the granite class. Zhiren gave an order, first the wood, then the rolling stones, and then the four kings rushed down the stone class. Zhiyuan led a team to rush down the mountain. After a burst of noise, the air seemed to be congested. Zhiren looked around, but there was no one. He picked up the machete and stood on the path at the foot of Mashike Mountain, forming a majestic statue.

Village chief Zhang Yuanmang went to the village to hold a meeting in the morning. Mainly because I heard from the township head about the situation of inspecting alpine vegetables in Qinghe County. The township head is a woman, but her speech is very good, she can explain things in simple and simple terms, and she has a lot of witty words, which makes the atmosphere of the meeting very lively. The female township head finally assigned a task to the village heads of each village, which was to encourage the villagers to plant cabbage after returning and develop Madi Township into the county's number one alpine vegetable base. The village chiefs were very excited and expressed their opinions one after another. Only Zhang Yuanmang remained silent, looking worried. He played flower cards all night last night and lost sixteen yuan. He was now recalling how those two Yamatos made a mistake. Not only did they miss the cards, but they also let others take a shot. If the two cards tied, he would be plus or minus eighteen dollars. He should have won two dollars, but lost sixteen dollars.

The oak tree was cut down by village accountant Liu Zhu. The tall oak tree trunk was sawed into three pieces, and each piece was pulled by two mules, dragging three strands of yellow dust down from the post. When the mule team passed the gate of the primary school, the accountant Liu Zhu, who was huddled in a crowd, stopped and said to her: Cut it down, the village chief has long wanted to use it as a longevity material. Feng Guomei didn't say anything. She thought Liu Zhu's facial features were funny. He had a shiny and big head. Why were his facial features so crowded? When the last section of the tree trunk pulled by the two mules was dragged past Feng Guomei's eyes, she suddenly saw the familiar line of characters on the trunk. The strokes of the characters had been patinated and deformed, but she could still vaguely make out: How far is it from Niutouba to Korla. She thought that as a complete sentence, there should be a question mark after this line.

Sanxi is adding another woman to his family, this is the third one. The women washing clothes next to the ditch rubbed their collars and cuffs, whispering to each other, and their voices changed their pitch. When he saw Sanxi walking away, the man greeted him from a distance. Sanxi, are you talking to someone again? What a blessing. Sanxi's broad face turned purple and glowed with oil, and she waved her hands and said, "Where is it?" In front of Sanxi, the people in the village all had smiles on their faces, but as soon as Sanxi turned into the alley, the people in the village started to look at each other and murmured. If you don't mind eating a hundred beans, how dare you marry her, and she's not a local? This has been discussed more than once, and you ask me and I ask you again and again. No one could answer, but they all remembered something. What comes to mind is Sanxi's first two women... That day was originally a happy day.

Liu Ailing is originally from Dezhou, Shandong, and now lives in Weihai. Deputy editor-in-chief of "Weihai Literature" newspaper. Member of Shandong Writers Association. In 2011, he participated in the 7th Advanced Research Class for Writers of Shandong Writers Association. He has written the novel "One Eyed World", and his short and medium stories have been published in publications such as "Mountain Flowers", "Fangcao", "Qingdao Literature" and "Contemporary Novels", and have been highly recommended in "Mountain Flowers" and other publications. Yibai Qushui firmly believes that nothing can be done more than three times! Countryside people have to spend their whole lives busy with three trivial matters such as weddings, funerals, and growing crops, so that they can live a meaningful life. He often rubbed his bald head and thought that in the three months left of his life, "mourning" was as important as his life.

Tang Qiubao drank half a bottle of wine in a daze. Yin Hehua was stunned: He was so happy and confused! Normally you never have such a large amount. (She reaches for the wine bottle) Stop drinking and get something to eat. Tang Qiubao didn't insist and took the bowl: Mom, you go to sleep first. I'll wash the dishes in a while. Yin Hehua said: Don't panic, I'll talk to you. Tang Qiubao said: Just go. I feel a little dizzy and want to be alone and quiet. Yin Hehua said: Then... You should also go to bed early.

One day, there was a beggar standing in front of her stall. When he saw Liu Jiumei, he asked, where is Lu Hui's earth fort? Has his earth fort been built? Liu Jiumei said, "Lu Hui is dead and was burned to death in the old castle." But the beggar said, "Will Lu Hui die? There is a well in the old castle. He will not jump into the ancient well." Liu Jiumei was dumbfounded and felt uncomfortable again. Later, the beggar, just like Lu Hui, leaned against the doorway of the castle, letting the warm sunshine bathe him, and he felt comfortable. Liu Jiumei had seen the beggar for a long time and felt that he looked familiar, as if he was Guangji Niang's husband. That year, when he took away the little tomatoes, Liu Jiumei recognized them. When Liu Jiumei saw the beggar again, he was no stranger to him, as if he was Lu Hui.

In early winter, on a very cold day, when it was dark, a man came to the door. He was a big man, with a strange appearance and strange clothes. Sai Mai was feeding the black dog at the time, and when he turned around, he noticed that there was someone suddenly at the door. He was a tall, dark man, and his eyes were scanning the yard of her house. His sinister eyes suddenly glanced at Sai Mai, who was dazed in the corner of the yard holding a clay basin. Sai Mai couldn't help but let out a "yeah" and ran towards the kitchen, where he bumped into his aunt who was pouring water out of the pot. The dog seemed to wake up immediately, barking relentlessly and pounced, causing the iron rope under its neck to clank. Unexpectedly, the man was let into the upper room by his grandfather. He also held a bowl of tea with both hands and shouted to the kitchen people to make a delicious meal quickly. As a result, my mother made long noodles. Long noodles are a top-quality meal served by the Saimai family.

In the snowy countryside, in early summer, the mountains gradually turn green, and the highland barley grows taller, decorating the barren land particularly beautifully. Villages are sparsely distributed on the land, and the villagers' houses are all single-yard, flat-roofed Tibetan-style houses. They are sparsely distributed among the highland barley fields, or hidden among the green poplars and willows. Dolma held her daughter Ram and stood at the gate of the courtyard, staring blankly at the distant mountains, highland barley fields, and willow trees. In early summer, the sky is still so blue, with not a single white cloud in sight, and the blue sky connects with the distant mountains. A gust of wind blows, and the highland barley seedlings set off layers of wheat waves, and some even seem to form some small whirlpools. A circle of highland barley bends toward the southeast and northwest, causing the branches of the trees in the distance to sway.

The sunshine on the 6th day of the sixth lunar month covered the khaki Xianyang Plateau with a golden color like egg yolk. Donkey manager Bian Tianshou rode his black horse known as the Black Spear and ran out of the color in a cloud of flying dust. Bian Tianshou was wearing a khaki sleeveless leather jacket with three knot-like buttons unfastened. As the horse ran, the jacket flew high, like a flag flying behind him. Bian Tianshou, a donkey broker who is famous throughout Qinchuan Road, believes that his real father is the old bachelor who has spent his whole life wandering around donkeys. Because Bian Tianshou lost his parents when he was young, it was this wandering old bachelor who took him in and taught him the skills of looking after donkeys, regulating donkeys, attracting donkeys, and buying and selling donkeys. Putting these skills together, Bian Tianshou became the largest donkey broker on Qinchuan Road after his master.

The son looked carefree and used more and more swear words. The name dad was often replaced by old people or even immortals in his mouth. Mei Du was really a little chilled. My son is no longer the little carrot he was when he was a few years old. His arms have become stiff and he is becoming less and less obedient. He wanted to persuade his son earnestly, but his son didn't listen and became impatient and said, "I know, I know!" Stop talking, it's annoying! If you are angry with your son, he will frown, wander outside, and may not come home for many days. Mei Du was afraid that her son would be hungry, thirsty, and bullied outside. She was also afraid that her son would get mixed up with the unscrupulous people in society and become a second-rate ruffian. Mei Du was always feeling exhausted.

The people in the organization invited Fu Yifang to a separate room and expressed their opinions seriously. For a long time, Fu Fang was silent, smoking hard, and the leader waited patiently. Fu Yifang stood up and smiled. The organization thought he agreed, but Fu Fang said: "I have been a farmer in Huanggang Village for several months, and I have a deep experience. I really want to be the township head again." After hearing Fu Fang's words, the comrades in the county and township opened their mouths, and in a very serious tone, they emphasized organizational discipline to Fu Fang. At the same time, they quickly reported to the county. The county also held an emergency meeting and made two replies: first, try to do the work of each representative so that they understand the organization's intentions and strive to complete the election tasks; second, if the representatives insist that the election will go ahead as usual, the election results should be respected, and organizational measures can still be taken in the future.

As if a ghost had possessed him, he picked up the finely ground umbrella ribs and went to the Yanchun Clinic. The big speaker at the door was playing "Happiness", which made people panic. There was a group of people playing cards in the yard. Seeing Wang Lianlin come in, Li Ande shouted: "Su Shuisheng, your grandpa is here, call grandpa quickly." A teenage boy stood up from the crowd and timidly called Wang Lianlin grandpa. The little boy is a perfect replica of Wang Yong. Wang Lianlin hurriedly dug into his pocket, and the sharp umbrella ribs fell to the ground. He took out two hundred yuan and gave it to Xiao Wangyong, but he was speechless. When he lowered his head to pick up the umbrella rib, he bumped into the little boy's hand. The little boy's hands were so tender and warm that he couldn't recover from the heat for a long time. He didn't hear what the people around him said to him. He didn't bother to pick up the umbrella ribs anymore, he just held on to the little boy. After a long time, he finally managed to squeeze out a few "goodbye" sounds.

I dare to say responsibly that Dongfang You is a century-old fool. For him, I not only hate him, but hate him (this is Dongfang You's speaking habit that he has developed since he was a child. When I think of him, my grammar and rhetoric are messed up). Because he once almost cost me my life, I can neither forget him nor forget him. It is said that recalling the past is a sign of aging. I am not convinced by old age, and I am fully confident that I will serve in a leadership position for another term until I am sixty years old. Since I turned fifty, I have often suffered from kidney deficiency, qi deficiency, heart deficiency and other feelings of emptiness. The things in front of me turn around and are forgotten, but the people and things in the past are lingering in front of my eyes. The one who appears most frequently is the fool Dongfang You - my childhood companion and boy's classmate. His innate smiling face often appears in my dreams.

In that absurd era, farmers' private plots of land, small plots of land, and sloping land were all treated as the tail of capitalism and cut off, and household sideline businesses such as raising pigs, sheep, and chickens were also treated as the tail of capitalism and restricted. The restricted breeding indicators are roughly as follows: three farmers are allowed to raise one pig, and one farmer is only allowed to raise two sheep and three chickens. If you exceed the limit, they will criticize you, fight you, tie you up, beat you, and even drag you around the streets. This restriction really screws up farmers. People with conscience, please think about it, if you only rely on this kind of breeding and the pitiful grains distributed from the team (a person can get two to three hundred kilograms of coarse grains in a good year, but only ten or twenty kilograms in a bad year), how will the farmers maintain their lives?

The place name Erxianju is quite nice, a bit poetic. Thirty years ago, I settled in the ancient city of Rehe, and this was the first place I knew and remembered. But understanding and remembering have nothing to do with poetry and painting, nor does it have anything to do with the fact that there is a small railway station there, nor does it have anything to do with the fact that there is a well-preserved large stone bridge built in the Kangxi year next to the small station. Speaking of which, the relevant thing is that there is a pot sticker shop next to Dashiqiao. It's better to tell the truth, there's nothing to be embarrassed about. I was an employee of that pot sticker shop at the time, wearing a smoky white muslin hat and overalls stained with oily twists. I first sold pot stickers, then baked them and added ashes from the pot. This shop had a new revolutionary name after the Cultural Revolution (it seemed to be called Xiangyang Restaurant), but no one called it, and everyone called it Erxianju Pot Sticker Shop. Place name and store name: they were called together. The Guotie Shop is a time-honored brand and an old house.

The weather this year is a bit unusual. Spring planting is coming to an end, and it is extremely hot and scorching. The sun is also scorching. On the mountain path leading to Jingshang Village, poverty alleviation team leader Zhang Jinqiang and two team members, accompanied by Li Feng, secretary of the Baixiang Party Committee, braved the noon sun and trudged forward with luggage in their hands and shoulders, sweating profusely. After listening to the basic situation of Inshang Village at the township government just now, Zhang Jinqiang, the poverty alleviation team leader, felt a little nervous. Before coming, when the organization talked to him, they briefly introduced the situation in Inoue Village. Although they mentioned the difficulties in the village, they were not so serious. It doesn't matter if you are poor, miserable, or tired, but if you are far away and closed, it doesn't matter. The branch is not sound, the organization is disorganized, boundary conflicts are prominent, and armed fights are frequent. In particular, Inoshang Village is located deep in the mountains and is the only village in the county without access to rural roads. The difficulties exceeded his imagination.

When I was a kid, I lived at Red Prairie Ranch and never traveled far. There is a road south of the pasture. Whenever a car or a herd passes by, the road is always dusty. At that time, I often wondered what it would be like on the other side of the road. Many years later, I walked back from the other end of the road and returned to my hometown after a long absence. However, my childhood is long gone and my hometown has become so strange. The past events fell into the crystal ball of time one after another. In my gaze, the road to my hometown was dusty again. Looking back on the past, we always start from that bright summer. In July and August, fireworks, bowl flowers and milk flowers bloom one after another. When the wheat is ripe, the blue waves undulating with the wind are filled with a sweet smell, calling people to harvest. After the wheat is harvested, it will be the season for planting seeds in the meadow.

Niu Laoqi was like a donkey on a mill road, circling around the smooth river sand field. Occasionally, he stopped and looked at the majestic and majestic river surface. On a sunny summer day, when the waves are calm, the four-story and five-story riverboat goes up to Sichuan and down to Shanghai, singing a melodious whistle. The tugboat, emitting black smoke, crawled along with a roar. A few wooden boats dared to sail along the river bank like a stroll, and the diesel engines installed on the wooden boats screamed. The Yangtze River is always lively, the river flows day and night, and boats come and go on the river, but there is no sand transporting boat that Niu Laoqi is looking forward to. Niu Laoqi has been looking at the river since noon yesterday. It is now four o'clock in the afternoon, and there is no trace of the sand transporting ship. "I'm going to kill you, Hu Chengjin's mother. You don't mean what you say. Aren't you going to cut off my life!" Niu Laoqi gritted his teeth and yelled towards the Yangtze River with his belly puffed out.

Shao Li, born in November 1965, is a member of the National Committee of the Chinese Writers Association. He is currently the vice chairman and secretary-general of the Henan Writers Association. He has written nearly two million words of novels and essays. His works have been published in large national publications such as "People's Literature", "Contemporary", and "October", and some of his works have been selected by "Selected Novels", "Novel Monthly", "Selected Chinese Literature", "Works Contest", "Xinhua Digest" and various annual anthologies. Some works have been translated and introduced to France, Japan, Greece and other countries. He has won the Biennial Award for Outstanding Novellas in "Selected Novels", the champion of the "Contemporary" Literary Rally Competition of People's Literature Publishing House, and the title of the most promising young writer in the "2003 Chinese Literary Figures" by hundreds of media across the country. The novella "Minghui's Christmas" won the 4th "Lu Xun Literature Award" of the Chinese Writers Association. The novel "My Quality of Life" was shortlisted for the 7th "Mao Dun Literary Award". Trying to speak about other people's lives is a very thankless task, which often leaves us deeply frustrated. In fact, sometimes even what happens in one day is thrilling to say, let alone such a long life, let alone the unpredictable heart. If this life had been placed in the era of rapid changes in China, it would have been even more unpredictable.

The child was probably six or seven years old when he saw the red carp. But he has been living in the vineyard with his grandfather for two years. Grandpa's vineyard is close to the river. The river is called Majia River. The water is so clear that you can see small fish swimming among the aquatic plants. In the child's mind, the river was very wide, so wide that the people on the opposite embankment looked like insects crawling slowly, and the cars and motorcycles looked like birds flying slowly. The children live a happy life, with fish to eat in the summer and grapes to eat in the autumn. The kids fell in love with this place. This year is the third year. Grandpa raised bees in the vineyard again. The place is surrounded by woods, including acacias, weeping willows, sky poplars, and tangled bushes. Occasionally, one or two albizia trees can be seen. The woods cover the river embankment densely. No matter how you look at it, you can't see the end. Say, bees like woods.

He Wei, male, born in the 1960s. He once served as the fourth contract producer of the Hubei Provincial Writers Association's School of Literature, and the deputy director of the Prose Creation Committee of the Wuhan Writers Association. He currently works at the Hubei Writers Documentation Center. Since 1984, he has published more than one million words of poetry, prose, novels, reportage and literary criticism in more than 200 newspapers and magazines at home and abroad. His poetry works have been included in various anthologies and authoritative newspapers and periodicals such as "Selected Poems", "Selected Chinese Poems", "Selected Chinese New Poems", etc. His famous prose works such as "Prairie Roof", "Singer, Singer", "Touch is a Nutrient", "Chinese Plum Blossom" and "The Shadow of the Distant Bird" have been successively selected by high school and junior high school Chinese textbooks and college entrance examination and high school entrance examination guidance textbooks. He is the author of a collection of novels, "The City of Dog Days", a collection of essays, "The Face of Time", and a collection of reviews, "Who is Drunk in the Frost Forest at Dawn", etc. The water-based Xing'an Ling Canal is two thousand years old. Ever since the Qin Empire swept across Liuhe, Lingqu has had a popular name and an extraordinary resume.

The Huanghua River flows out from deep in the mountains, and the water is surprisingly clear. When the weather is fine, when birds fly over the river, you can clearly see their reflections in the river, even their feathers. As for Huanghua Village, it is located in the middle reaches of the Huanghua River. Due to the moistness of the river, the village has always had simple folk customs. For decades, there have been no bloody fights, not even red-faced disputes. It has been rated as a model village with good morals for many years.

The sun was still a pole high, and the chimneys of every house began to smoke. If the chimney of this family is smoking, it means that this family is still there. If the chimney of that family is not smoking, it means that that family has passed away. When Xu Daoran was walking around the village, he carefully observed whose chimney was smoking and whose chimney was not smoking, as if he was specifically concerned with whether the chimney was smoking or not. In a nice village, people leave as soon as they leave, swarming into the city like swarms of swarms. Hundreds of years ago, there was a great migration of people to empty villages in Zhengjiachuan. At that time, there was no choice but to leave. In a village with less than a hundred people, more than a dozen people died a year, and the illness and death were all sudden. The whole village was in panic and panic all day long. At this moment, a Feng Shui master said that the Feng Shui in Zhengjiachuan was broken, and the fault was caused by the small river.

My story may be about a good harvest. It is not a bumper harvest of summer grain crops, but a bumper harvest of autumn crops. Due to climate and geographical reasons, my uncle's place is a single-season planting area with one crop a year. It's called adapting to local conditions, and grains are no longer mixed. Sorghum, soybeans, millet, sweet potatoes, yam eggs, including pumpkins and winter melons are no longer planted. People have all planted jiaozi. The past few years have been a bumper harvest of jade seeds. Harvesting jade seeds seems to be easy, but it is not. Unlike wheat, which is bought directly by grain dealers, you have to cut it down and then break it. The broken jade sticks are carried on carts and carried home. They are first stored in bags woven from various thorns and stored in the yard. The small courtyard is completely occupied by the jade plant stems. What you see in front of you is not only the dark jade plant stems, but from a small perspective, it is synonymous with a year of oil, salt, soy and vinegar; from a large perspective, people also count on it for weddings, funerals, and houses.

My father was still talking about the snow before he died. My father said that the snow was so heavy that he had never seen such heavy snow in his whole life. My father said that the snow was not large flakes like goose feathers, nor was it fine powder like white flour. The snow was a bit like date flowers, small and round, falling from the sky in dense masses, and in the blink of an eye the ground was covered with white, and it lasted for two days and two nights. Many houses were crushed, many branches were broken, and the birds were seen falling from the trees in the sky because they had no food to eat. His father said that as long as he closed his eyes, the snowflakes from that day would float in front of his eyes, taking away his soul. When my father talked about the snow, his soul really seemed to be out of its shell, with a look of solemnity and pain on his face.

The river bank said to the river: "I cannot keep your waves." "Let me keep your footprints in my heart." - Rabindranath Tagore. I have a fate with the Arun River in the southeast of the Daxingan Mountains. This fate came from the early 1970s. In order to participate in the construction of an iron mine, my father brought our family from Ganhe, a small town in the middle of Daling, to the southeast of Lingnan, preparing to settle down in the iron ore town of Lizishan. When the mine was first built, there was no house to live in, so my father temporarily placed our home in a small mountain village called "Mizoguchi" where the starting point of the Bolin Line and the Binzhou Line branched off. My family rented a house at the northern end of the village and lived temporarily. Mizoguchi is a small station on the China-China Railway that cannot be smaller.

There are almost no tourists. Akita sat by the window, looking out the window motionless. It's already late autumn. As the train enters Xiangxi, this sense of season becomes more apparent. The mountains, dyed with red maples and yellow ginkgo, are like a piece of flowered cloth thrown away by girls, and beauty and loneliness are tangled together. These scenery are very consistent with Akita's mood at the moment, and she definitely didn't come here for the autumn scenery, not to relive it, or to feel nostalgic. She came back to enjoy it. Yimo is her daughter, who just celebrated her sixteenth birthday last week. Li Yimo helped each other. Every time she thinks of her daughter's name, Akita feels like she's been stabbed in the heart. Over the past ten years, there has always been a hole in her heart where love and hate have been intertwined, and a few streams of blood will gush out if she's not careful.

The old man Turdi's home is in a small mountain village at the southern foot of Beita Mountain. The old man has a grandson named Yashengjiang. Yashengjiang raised a little rooster, and his grandfather called it Little Yashengjiang. The protagonist in our story is this little rooster, whose grandfather calls him Little Yashengjiang and Yashengjiang calls him Kalakuluk (Uyghur, black tail). This is a unique little rooster. It has a beautiful appearance: a red fan-shaped comb, bright ruby ​​eyes, colorful feathers like a pheasant, slender golden legs and feet, and an elegant Karakuluk like a colorful flag. Moreover, it can spread its wings and fly high like a wild pigeon. Things have to start from a year ago. One warm noon in spring, old man Turdi was cleaning the stable as usual. He found an egg in the manger and put it into the wild pigeon's nest on the wooden shelf above his head.

The small town is next to a river. Follow the river westward and go upstream. There is a large reservoir about ten miles away from the small town. There used to be a small village at the foot of the Qingshan Mountain next to the reservoir called Jianglong Village. Due to the construction of the reservoir, the mountain residents from several villages in the deep mountain depressions were moved out of the mountains and merged into Jianglong Village. The number of people in Jianglong Village suddenly increased, and Jianglong Village was upgraded to Jianglong Town, with four streets in the southeast and northwest. The small town turned into a large town of several thousand people, and the town was densely populated. Most of the people in Jianglong Town originate from the deep mountains and old forests. The people in the deep mountains and old forests are nurtured by the mountains to have a strong and generous spirit. Ten or twenty years have passed, and this deep-rooted spirit of bravery and boldness has not only not disappeared, but has been passed on to future generations. Originally, as soon as a person reaches a hundred, some extraordinary people will emerge, and those who emerge will be different from others and become celebrities.

When the time came in 1980, our production team had to work separately, that is, to divide the fields into households. Our village is divided into two production teams, Dunan and Dubei. Before our team separated, the Dubei team separated a few years ago. The captain of our team visited Dazhai and experienced mutual aid groups, cooperatives, and the "Three-Self-One-Bao" movement that criticized Liu Shaoqi. His ideological consciousness was higher and he did not divide the team immediately. He wanted to wait and see, and two years passed in this way. Although the production team did not distribute the fields to each household, the captain could still feel the turmoil under the calm. Some people commemorated the production team, while others were tired of it and wanted the freedom of dividing the fields to each household. Fortunately, the captain's prestige suppressed these people. In recent years, many surrounding villages have split up into teams. Seeing that the situation was decided, the captain decided to split up.

Due to the entry of the working group, everything in the peaceful countryside was labeled with politics, and Shi Laozhong was also doomed during the exposure and criticism. Until the end of that turmoil and that era, Shi Laozhong became the only martyr. What kind of time was that? 1. Liujiabao is the location of the headquarters of the working group. After Shao Wenjie stepped out of the high threshold of the regiment compound, the excitement, joy, and heroism that he had suppressed for a while began to be released. His steps were brisk, with a bit of a military attitude, and he even hummed a popular song as he walked--

People's curiosity is in front of them. People's sense of fear lies behind. Curiosity and fear have held mankind hostage for 100,000 to 200,000 years, and to this day, humans are still unable to truly see themselves, the world in front of them and behind them... The sun has set behind the hill of earth lying like a cow at the end of the forest, and the sky above the hill has turned into the color of half-cooked watermelon. At this time every day, grandpa carries a black iron bucket and walks to the spring. Behind him are white tail and its children, one big and one small. White Tail is a mare. I was very young at that time, and I could run under White Tail's belly as soon as I lowered my head.

In midsummer, as an old ranger of the reserve, I followed the mountain patrol team to patrol the depths of the Kanas Reserve for five days. The first day was the same as before. We first had to take a boat across the 24-kilometer Kanas Lake, and then ride horses into the mountains. From the map, the Kanas Reserve is in the shape of a "Y" character. Kanas Lake is a vertical position below. This time, we will enter from the left fork, climb the Daban between the two forks, and then exit from the right fork. This is not only a normal patrol of the protected area, but also a rare opportunity to conduct a resource survey in the core area of ​​the protected area. Therefore, our team members include two officers and soldiers from the border defense force, as well as scientific research personnel from the protected area. At noon, we took a boat to the head of Kanas Lake.

The sky was full of torn cotton wool, howled by the strong wind, and the sky was clear. Ma Donggua glanced at the dog-like domineering sun, and her eyeballs stung as if they had been bitten. After looking forward to it all morning, the sky finally cleared up. Ma Donggua threw her big feet and ran to Li Chen's house, pressed against the door wall and scurried in to look inside. The big black dog inside grabbed hold of the wall and stuck its nose out into Winter Melon's face, causing him to break into a cold sweat. He quickly retreated away and raised his voice and shouted: "Uncle Li, are you up?" After a long while, Li slumped out exhausted. Ma Donggua lowered his voice and called out, "Uncle Li, are you up?" "You donkey, it's raining and cloudy, what are you so worried about?" Li glanced at Ma Donggua in the morning. Ma Donggua said, "It's the same thing." Li Chen glanced at him and said, "You stupid Donggua, tell me what you think."

The Taihang Mountains stretch all the way, from northeast to southwest, for more than a thousand miles, and the southernmost point is Nanling. From a distance, Nanling looks like a folding flower fan that opens and closes. There are countless villages like Yuanzhuang, Wuchengtou, Honghuadi, Shipan, Gewantou, Steep Angle, Channel, Baibei, Houzhang etc. Floating on the fan surface. Common jujube trees, pear trees, apricot trees, red fruit trees, elm trees, locust trees, mulberry trees and other plants are scattered here and there. There is a saying in the Nanling area: If a girl covers her head, wears a wedding dress and wedding shoes and steps over the threshold of her parents' home, she is considered to have gone out. This is the bride going out. When the bride goes out, no matter whether she was a rich lady or a poor maid, everything is over. After leaving the house, the daughter has become a daughter-in-law, just like the melon stalk has been separated from the melon vine and has another way of life. Whether the future is good or bad, it is up to each of us to earn it.

At this time, as the night deepened and the air was neither cold nor dry, I walked very quickly listening to the chirping of insects in the forest. "Nothing can stop me, don't even think about it!" I deliberately said this to Zibu in a relaxed manner. He is already lagging behind, and in a little while the distance between us will become wider, just like each running on his own path. Zibu was talking about something in Yi, but I couldn't hear clearly from a distance. Besides, even if you hear it, you may not fully understand it. However, I am sure that he is calling Ma Xiaoyu to wait for him. "It's Ma Xiaoyu again, she's everywhere." I thought of Mr. Bai's attitude towards me. Perhaps he didn't want to talk to me because he knew that Ma Xiaoyu and I were just similar but not the same person. "From now on..." I turned around and wanted to tell him not to mention Ma Xiaoyu again, and that it would be best to speak to me in Chinese, so as to avoid communication trouble. "Don't look for it, he's gone." This familiar voice came from the left. I looked there carefully and saw no one.

The surging Jialing River flows day and night among the high mountains in the mountainous areas of northern Sichuan. When it is calm, it is like a gentle virgin, walking slowly through the flat and soothing wilderness; when it is angry, it runs wildly, and its huge roar echoes in the cliffs and valleys all day long, like a roaring lion. The water of the Jialing River nourishes the green bamboo forests on both sides of the river, the green pines and cypresses, and the apricot blossoms that bloom every year on both sides of the river. It also nourishes the simple mountain people who live on one side of the river and on the other. There is a mountain in the upper reaches of the Jialing River called Phoenix Mountain. Fenghuang Mountain is not high and the area is not large, but it is famous because of the tomb of Zhang Xianzhong on the mountain. When I was a child, Phoenix Mountain had not yet been developed as a tourist attraction, and it remained silent. At that time, most of the adults were illiterate, regardless of their official positions, smart or stupid, and farmers were engaged in politics regardless of whether they were farming or farming, leaving the children unattended.

Feng Wenmao, male, was born in 1966. He was a teacher and later worked in the administrative department for many years. He is currently the director of Wucheng County Construction Committee. Many of his works have been published in "Shandong Literature" and other magazines, and he has written a collection of novels "Chronicles of the Royal Horse Garden" and a collection of essays "Small Town Essays". He is a member of Shandong Writers Association and vice chairman of Dezhou Writers Association. 500 Meters southeast of our village is the habitat of the souls of the villagers in our village. My eldest brother is also buried here. The grass on his grave is already very tall, but his soul will not die. In the dead of night, he was seen getting up and wandering through the fields on the north side of the cemetery. The fields were covered with green wheat seedlings. The eldest brother walked briskly, sometimes squatting down to carefully observe the growth of the wheat seedlings. The eldest brother watched the wheat seedlings joint and show their ears, and watched the wheat straw change from green to yellow. When the people in the village came to harvest wheat in the morning light, the eldest brother left quietly without disturbing his neighbors. Green corn seedlings appeared again in the wheat stubble field, and the eldest brother listened quietly to the sound of corn stalks cracking and jointing at night. I know that in my eldest brother's heart, this land should not only grow wheat and corn. What he misses is the orchards that once existed on this land.

As a result, I got on the factory's broken truck and headed into the mountains. A large number of shiny glasses bundled under hemp rope cartons were pulled into the carriage. The broken truck couldn't bear the weight of the glass and creaked all the way. If I had known that so many things would happen later that would kill me, I would not have gone into the mountains to do this business - in fact, I know that I would still have come because I am a coward. It was morning when we set off from our small town Liuzhen City. It was noon at this time, and the car stopped in Kawaguchi Town. I finished eating pancakes with haggis soup in a small restaurant on the roadside. Before I finished smoking a cigarette, the driver urged me to get in the car with old words. He said we couldn't rest on the way. Do you think it's a tour? We have to keep climbing over the mountains and we won't arrive until tomorrow afternoon. Further ahead, there are rugged mountain roads.

Guo Siyao's collection of short stories and short stories was to be published by the Writer's Publishing House. In the midwinter of the Renchen year, he contacted me to visit the Liu Haoge Contemporary Literature Museum on the shores of Weishan Lake. I put down the phone and was surprised again. There were so many celebrities across the country and even in Tai'an. Why did he have to ask me to write the preface to his collection of novels? But from Guo Siyao's frank words, I understood that because I am a local writer, his novel collection also pursues local accent and nostalgia.

On that foggy morning, the trees were covered with frost and snow like pear blossoms, and the humid air seemed to be filled with balls of cotton. You couldn't see each other's faces clearly from two steps away, and could only hear the chirping of birds and the crisp clatter of ice on the branches. People seem to have had a premonition that their hearts are wrapped in fog and they are suffocated. Sure enough, not far from the village, the bus plunged into a cliff more than ten meters deep at a two-way intersection. There were fifteen school-going children in the car. The driver is the son of the village party secretary Lu Zhenguo. The fuel tank caught fire and exploded during the friction. All people in the car were killed. Upon receiving the call, Secretary He of the town committee handed over the task to the newly appointed deputy mayor Zhang Qiuyue. The car made many twists and turns and turned onto a rugged mountain path. In the car, the driver Lao Wang told her about the major event that happened in Lu Village two years ago.