Chapter 35 Chapter One

"Why do they have to cross the swamp, come here through the swamp? Is this side better than that? Don't sweet potatoes and thatch grow there? Why do they have to cross the swamp? Take a detour Can’t you walk the good way? Is it worth spending so much hard work and dying so many people?..." ——The endless questions of the famous little bastard in the webbed era made him feel bored, so he spit, stood up from the grass, did not forget to pat the grass clippings on his buttocks, and pointed his head down to eat grass The herd of cattle in the distance walks away. The webbed little bastard stared at his back with his dark eyes, staring at his eyes all the time, and sent him into the twilight cemetery.He—is the little bastard? --What's his name?Why are you sitting there? ——Let’s call him a little bastard, sitting there... Even if he sits there grazing cattle and sheep—all the narration is always interrupted by generations of little guys who are too eager for knowledge and have a particularly anxious temperament—— This is also a manifestation of the revolutionary tradition passed down from generation to generation.

Seeing that it was getting dark, the cows and sheep automatically approached. The blue eyes of the cow were full of sadness, the mother's love was overflowing, and the spine was slightly bowed. The calf hit the cow's udder with its forehead, chirping and chirping. . Grandpa said to me—grandpa died several years ago—I said to my grandson with a yellow nose: "When I was your age, I followed my grandpa to herd cattle and sheep here, and he told me this and that. The sun at that time was whiter than it is now, and the swamp was almost the same as it is now. There were bunches of oily grasshoppers on the three-edged grass, fiery red, and when it was burned, it was sizzling and oily..."

My grandson threw a charred grasshopper in his mouth. ...the little bastard shook his head, my grandpa said, like he was peeing.This little bastard always sat there every evening: to the south was the big red mud swamp, to the east was the meadow, to the west was the meadow and cropland, and to the north was a small village.There are three big willow trees on the grass, like three big men with their heads down.The little bastard just sat there waiting for "he" - a skinny man with the shape of a black fish.The skinny man always came out of the graveyard with the jumbled miscellaneous trees when the sun was just red, playing with the little bastards, and talking about crossing the swamp—did they burn oily grasshoppers too? ——Grandpa asked his grandpa, I asked my grandpa, my grandson asked me curiously——I broke a straw stick, scraped off his yellow nose that was about to enter, and replied: Of course!certainly!

Seeing the dark eyes of my grandson, a burst of sadness floated up in my heart, and a burst of sadness floated into my heart calmly.In the evening, although the meadow is still hot, the wind blowing from the swamp is already cool, and the smell of mud seeps into our bones. In the blink of an eye, I am seventy years old, and I have more and more opportunities to dream about the dead, and I am very happy when the time of death is approaching. …At first, the little bastard was sitting there, poking the ant nest with a straw stick, and the man as thin as a black smoke was smiling coldly behind him.The little bastard wasn't surprised—because the laughter was familiar, and the elders of the clan laughed with this sound.He lured a pink ant to a straw stick, and let it crawl forward along the straw stick to the top, as if facing an abyss, the ant scratched its head and hesitated.He was terrified.A black foot, like an independent monster, spread over his shoulder and stretched out in front of him.He smelled the smell on his feet: the faint scent of wild chrysanthemums.The ants jumped on his overly protruding toes, quickly climbed up, over the insteps, up the ankles, turned his neck and turned his head when he couldn't see: the black and thin man stared at him with clear blue and white eyes, and his hard lips were rippling. With a mossy smile, two rows of steel teeth in his mouth... My grandfather said to me: The little bastard looked at the black man for a while, and asked abruptly, "Who are you?" The black man replied, "I am me." That's how they got to know each other.Nothing was said on the first day, nothing was said on the second day, and on the third day, when it was getting dark, the black man said, "I will tell you something tomorrow."

"Is it about the foal crossing the swamp?" My grandson asked curiously, "Why did the foal cross the swamp? Isn't there any good grass in the south of the swamp for it to eat?..." "Don't interrupt!" my grandfather scolded me, and I said to my grandson, "Don't interrupt!" On the grass...the oily grasshopper jumped up and down, my immature skin was sorely beaten by the oily grasshopper's bullets...on my old and haggard skin stood an oily grasshopper, fiery red and bright in color, oily and shiny , It is like a jade carving, it looks like a baby, the suction cups on its feet make my skin itchy, I raised my hand to wipe it off... Grandpa, the grasshopper hurts my heart, and the grandson said crying.Let's go down to Three Willows, where there is less grass and less grasshoppers.

I was attracted by the black man grandpa told about, and I could almost see his face, with fluffy hair, like a puff of black smoke... Grandpa killed the oily grasshopper standing on his arm, and led me to the three willows. ... Early in the morning of the third day, the little bastard came here, scattered two cattle and twelve sheep to graze on the grass, and sat under a tree to wait for the black man.The dew on the grass pierced the mouths of the sheep, and they sneezed loudly.As soon as the sun turned red, the black man appeared in front of the little bastard.The little bastard asked: "Have you eaten yet?" The black man said: "I drank a nest of honey."—How much is a nest of honey?God knows!God knows how much a nest of honey is - let me tell you a story about a pony crossing a swamp!A long time ago, a group of people drove a mare from the south. After entering the swamp, the mare gave birth to a foal, red, and then the mare died, leaving the foal alone up.The group of people also died a few, and finally there was only one child left, a boy.The boy and the foal hugged each other and began to cry, cry, and cry, until the tears were drained... The little bastard yawned because he couldn't sleep well at night.

The black man said, "Listen up, boy!" The little bastard said: "This story is not good at all! You tricked me into running here early in the morning, and you didn't even have time to eat. You led me to eat honey." The black man grabbed a flower from the ground, tore two blades of grass, rubbed them into pieces in the palm of his hand, took a breath, and lifted it into the air, a swarm of bees were flying.Built a nest in a grass.Gather pollen, sea water, dung-tips—the sweetest things are made of the smelliest things—and make a nest of honey for the little bastards to eat.After eating the honey, the little bastard is neither sleepy nor hungry, just listen to the black man continue talking.

... The little pony licked the little boy's face with his tongue and said, "Little brother, don't cry."The foal is a female, with big blue eyes, double eyelids, long eyelashes, tender and red nose and lips, like rose petals.The little boy touched the pony's face and said: "Little sister, I will listen to you and stop crying."I'm older than you, how can I cry?The boy and the foal found a hard spot and ate something: the foal ate grass, the boy ate grass seeds.When we were full, we trekked through the swamp together... When I was talking about this, I heard a strange sound in the swamp, like the roar of a tiger. Look in a bush.