In this village, people would describe the full ears of wheat swaying in the wind as wolves running. Because the swaying posture of the wheat ears in the wind is like a wolf running in the wheat field. People also say that the ears of wheat blown down by strong winds were trampled by wolves, and when the harvest was bad, they were said to be eaten by wolves. Although this metaphor is appropriate, it also contains negative connotations, which seems to be a fly in the ointment. Today, though, these tropes are tongue-in-cheek, rarely used with the same intimacy and horror as they once were.

Looking up from the swaying ears of wheat, the autumn sky has not changed even after hundreds of years, but the people and things underneath have all changed. Year after year, no matter how long the villagers who work hard to grow wheat live, they will only live to be seventy years old. If people and things have not changed for hundreds of years, it may not be good. It's just that people can't help but feel that maybe there is no need to guard the past promises for the sake of friendship. The villagers here don't need us anymore. The high mountains towering in the east make most of the clouds in the sky of the village drift to the north.

Thinking of my hometown in the north on the other side of the clouds, I couldn't help but sigh. Pull your eyes back from the sky to the wheat field, and the proud tail is wagging in front of you. When I have nothing to do, I can only concentrate on combing the hair of the tail. The autumn sky is high and clear · It is harvest time again this year. Countless packs of wolves run across the wheat fields.