Taiping Nuo Opera

My mother sent a text message saying that she had made dumplings at home, stuffed with leeks and eggs, and she would cook them when I got back. But I clearly remember that my mother died three years ago. People in the village said that she died in the fire at the Nuo Temple and was burned to only a handful of bones. But now, text messages pop up one after another: "Son, when will you get home?" "Your Aunt Wang said she saw your car entering the village." "The dumplings are ready, Mom is waiting for you." I stood at the entrance of the village, looking at the dense messages on my phone, and then looking in front of me—— The Nuo Temple stands there, with gray walls and black tiles, in good condition. The fire three years ago seemed like it had never burned before.