Chapter 2 two

two Good hearted - my sister Married beyond the mountains - that distant place Fourteen years are like running water.Ganga? Hara already appeared thick-boned, no longer as slender and slender as before.His chest was wider and stronger, but his golden days were drawing to a close as a showhorse competing with the best of the best.Just like we have grown up and established a career, stepped into a solid noon, and ended the youthful years full of excitement and fantasy. The shepherd and I rode together.He obviously found it boring to be alone with the sheep, and was happy to accompany me for a few steps to pass the time.

The Borragon Creek winds here slowly...a huge semicircle, and when the horse climbed up the hillside of Uga Gutar's Slope, I saw the blue glass-like river quietly embedded in the dark The green grass draws the boundary between my hometown and the neighboring team on the distant land. Looking at the faintly discernible stars in the river bend, I don't feel that I have caught Ganga? Hara's bit.Hometown - I meditate on this word, hometown, my cradle.My love, my mother!Under the hill on the right side of the river beach.The cattle pen made of yellow stones remains the same.In the long and narrow valley between Qinger Obo and Mankatai Khalehan, there are still blue and faintly blooming Malus flowers.Oh, on this grassland that is so familiar to me and so kind, my childhood happiness and joy of youth are buried, as well as my beautiful love with Somia...

I left her for nine full years.I used to leave her so indignantly and violently, because I thought I was going to follow a pure ideal road to tomorrow.Like many young friends, we always give up history easily with a raise of our hands.Choose a new way.We are always physically and mentally exhausted under the blow of reality.We only remember to cherish the previous crimes, we always remember to cherish everything we have squandered and tired of in the past, including our hometown, our friendship, and our own past after we have lost it forever.It has been nine years, and that dark horse with a wide chest and a thin waist, which has just turned five years old, has really become the ever-winning Ganga Hara; and what about you?Baiyinbaolig, what have you got?Is it a career achievement, or the true meaning of life?Crowded in the noisy air waves; rigid and boring official documents; endless meetings; countless frictions between people;Or, a glimpse of truly civilized life in a salon where the language of the Berragan Prairie cannot be translated?Observe that those who hate privilege also enjoy it with peace of mind?Listen to friends who are about to immigrate to Canada or the United States talk about the revitalization of the nation?

And what about Somia now?Among the dots of felt tents in the distance, which one is her home? "Uh, the sheep are far away, brother, goodbye." The shepherd yawned and pulled the horse's head away. "Wait! Brother," I stopped him. "Show me, please, which is the yurt of Somia and her grandma? You know..." He squinted his eyes for a moment. "Hey—you're talking about the white-haired Eggie of Borragon! Her house isn't there anymore." "What? Not here anymore?" I was anxious. "Huh, the old man died a long time ago, and that girl is married." After thinking for a while, he said again: "She married to Baiyinwula—a place far away."

After that, the shepherd galloped towards the flock of sheep behind him. Twilight has fallen.Dark blue streaks of cloud slanted across the western half of the sky.Just as the sinking sun was burning the bottom of the thick cloud layer into red and blue, and the evening mist drifted gently, blending with the evening cooking in the distant basin, I rode Ganga Hara towards the blue-red sunset West is walking.The wind as cool as water rushed into my heart, and my whole body was cold. I walked westward with a heavy and determined heart, like an ancient rider walking towards his doom. In the lofty valley that separates the Borregon Valley from the outer prairie, I overtook the dying sunset.Here is a deserted valley.Since ancient times, herds have never come here to graze, and people do not live near here.If you look closely, you can see clusters of blindingly white things among the waist-high deep weeds.Those are the bones of the shepherds who passed away from us generation after generation.They were born in this grass, worked hard in this grass, found happiness and happiness from this grass, and finally returned their bodies that lost their souls to this grass.My dear silver-haired Eji, the grandmother who gave me motherly love and old man's love at the same time, must also be buried here.

She raised me from a young age.But when I was full of feathers, I abandoned her and went away, never to return.I don't know if she thought of me when she died; I only know that I, her only boy, should have been responsible for the funeral of the elderly... Eji, forgive me.Your unworthy grandson is praying for your rest. The night falls.In the evening, the sickle moon, which had been hanging high in the sky, now appeared to be shining silver.I tightened the girth of the horse, tidied up - got off the saddle.Before getting on the horse, I silently knelt down on one knee, pulled up a bunch of weeds with both hands, and bid farewell to the Borgen grassland that had nurtured me. The blood that maintains the Yu Prairie is broken.

I mount.Suddenly, Ganga Hara raised his front hooves, turned half a circle in the air, then kicked with his two hind legs, and rushed out.Right in front of you is the faint distant shadow of Baiyinwula Mountain. Oh, Baiyin Ula, the place where Somia married far away!Ganga? Hara has decided that we should go see her right away.I can no longer be a late regretter.Maybe, my Sha Na is calling me in the whirlpool of life, waiting for me to extend her helping hand... Somia, here I come.The black steed galloped straight towards the hazy Baiyinwula Mountain like an arrow.Quiet night excited... Although I solemnly named the black pony "Ganga Hara", and made the whole herding team used to calling it by this; but I didn't hum like Soumia often, yes To me, that song was a bit weird after all.My favorite song at that time was "Aluo Nur", a simple and lively hymn to a horse.Because in "Aluo Nur", it narrates all kinds of miracles and abilities of a god horse from one year old, to two years old, to maturity; until "at the Dalai Lama's competition, it ran seventy-three times First" sums it up.From that blessed spring day when the black foal came, I've been humming over and over for almost a whole year, "It's still a yearling, so you saddle up." As soon as the sand fox-like short tail can be swung a few times, I eagerly hope that it will grow up and surpass the tens of millions of horses in the commune.At that time, I was woken up in a daze by grandma or Somia in the morning, rubbing my sticky eyelids and yawning.I didn't wake up until I picked up the milk tea bowl, but I just thought I should say something.He opened his mouth, "A two-year-old horse... like a flying arrow!"

Grandma smiled.Suomia also giggled. The third spring——Grandma found a broken saddle from the depths of the boxcar and begged the nearby herdsmen to repair it.She said it was left by Somia's father.Since his death, no one in the woman-only household has used it.But now it's time to tidy up; Ganga Hara has become a three-year-old horse and will be trained soon; Baiyinbaolig is also over fifteen years old and is a man. Fifteen is the dividing line between children and youth.This is especially true for precocious prairie boys.At that time, I was concentrating on animal husbandry machinery and veterinary technology, and Somiya was keeping vigil for the neighbor's sheep.I have long stopped humming half a sentence of "Aluo Nur" foolishly. At that time, I was reticent and liked to think.When my father came to see me, he rarely acted pretentiously, because I was usually quietly reading a book "How to Run a Farming" with rich pictures and texts, or I was bare-chested and using a pick to plan the sheep dung bricks in the pen—my sweat Linlin's arms are muscular, and he will understand at a glance: Baiyin Baolig has grown up.

It was a fine day, a fine day in spring.I tightened my belt, walked to the grass, and untied Ganga Hara's horse.We discussed it last night: if the weather is fine, the horse will be formally saddled and brought out. Somia came running towards me.Maybe it was because of the hot weather, or maybe it was to help me adjust the horse. She took off the bloated fur robe and put on a thin marmot fur robe that grandma wore, which looked very small and narrow.She came running out of breath, the sun hitting her face.She raised her arms to wipe the sweat, and the tight belt immediately drew out the curves of her body.In an instant, my heart skipped a beat: Heh... I can't express what I feel in my heart, but it seems that the person who came here is not the Shana who has lived with me for six or seven years.Shana—the little Somia I was familiar with was so small, so chubby, and her eyes were so ridiculously squinted, but the one who was about to run up to me in a few steps was clearly a tall, strong, curvy woman. , The girl who shoots splendor at me in the sun.

"Bappa, are you really going to ride today? Hey, I'm so happy!" Her big eyes were shining with joy. She used to be elated about small things, but she never had such a strange taste back then.My mind was flustered and I was angry for some reason.I angrily tripped the leather horse to the ground and yelled at her: "Hey, put away the horse trip!" Then I grabbed the horse's mane tightly and jumped onto the horse's back. Ganga? Hara struggled to bite and spun.Somia shouted, "Stay on, Bathe!" Her voice was not at all as sweet as it used to be; it was so round and disturbing that I yelled at her, "Don't make any noise!" Immediately, the rein was loosened, and the black horse immediately kicked and jumped like crazy.

Three-year-old horses in late spring don't have much energy.In the evening, Ganga Hara had learned to trot left and right along the road under the whip of the horse. I got off the horse, tripped him up, and let him gnaw on the green grass that had just sprouted. The mottled residual snow that has already melted looks white and bright in the gradually dimming sky.The land where last year's withered grass was exposed was dark in the dusk.The cool wind blew by, so that the snow in the valley, the curling smoke and the whole spring pasture were painted with a pure blue color.Somia and I staggered on the saddle and whip, creaking and walking towards home on the wet snow.Somia was very happy, she always turned to me while talking, or she simply walked sideways, talking or humming something. "Bappa, you ride really well! I thought, I'm afraid Ganga. Hara will throw you off, hey, hey! Are you listening?" She took my shoulders and shook me like before . "Well, hello—" I felt like I was struggling to find a topic.What a strange, strange feeling it was. "I said, what should I eat tonight?" "Eat meatloaf!" Suomi Ya shouted happily, "Haha, let's eat meatloaf! I'll go get the meat!" She ran forward like a gust of wind.I watched her back, wondering how she could run on the grass in such an ana posture... Oh, the days of growing up!When the strange excitement and germination that arises spontaneously and cannot be understood by ourselves suddenly bursts out of our hearts, how much of its meaning can we understand in our confusion?We simply do not understand or even know that this is the coming of youth.We only remember the holy excitement that welled up in our hearts... I really felt that I was experiencing the bite and replacement of a pure and transparent world and a terrible, shameful and heartbeating world.As I fell in love with life for the first time, I also realized what I had lost.We will no longer get into the old granny's fur quilt together in the winter night, you stab me, I will hit you - go to the ground and fool around; we will no longer roll into a ball on the green grass with blue flowers, fighting for a red-dyed sheep bone They will no longer ride together on the backs of tendon oxen, with the latter supporting the shoulders of the former, along a winding trail trodden by a row of cattle, to pull water from the well... the clothes worn by Somia The old pants were too narrow, and the belt was too tight.When she ran towards me in the bright sunshine, she suddenly cast off her past body.She knocked on my heart with something completely strange, and completed an amazing enlightenment in an instant.Oh man!Ever since I was a child, I wanted to grow up to be a man.But manhood turns out to be so much more than owning a fine horse.I didn't expect it, didn't understand it at all, I was too young. While I was chewing on this vague feeling alone, Somia seemed to realize something at the same time.The next day, I saw her put on a bullock cart to pull water by herself.She did not ride the bull, but sat slanted on the side of the shaft like the women.She didn't call me, and I understood: I shouldn't meddle in the women's housework anymore. I watched her shadow disappear into the low-lying and uneven saline-alkali land, and then walked out with a pickaxe and an axe.That day, I repaired the wooden wheeled carts at home one by one, and planed a full half circle of sheep dung bricks. A new life begins.Although no one has announced its start.Unknowingly, grandma didn't do much work at Zhangluo gate and the line of Lele cars parked in a row. She was more likely to stand up and express her opinions on various things inside and outside in the dark bag. view.In the hot summer, she likes to stagger out of the bag door, bask in the sun comfortably, and catch lice.A shepherd passing by greeted her: "It's so comfortable! Erji!" She said cheerfully: "Of course. Both children are grown up! There is no work for me." I have become a trainee veterinarian, and every day Follow the old veterinarian around to deal with some difficult-to-delivery horses and cows that don't want to calve.When I'm free, I like reading, especially the book "How to Run a Farm".That book was discussed by model pastoralists and written by experts.I not only read knowledge from it, but also got a glimpse of a fresh and vast world that I didn't know.When I struggled to finish a paragraph, I reached out to touch the tea bowl. "Wait a minute, Bapa." A soft, girlish voice came, and Somiya was pouring me tea.I saw her lowered, slightly flickering black eyelashes and one rosy cheek.I can't read any more.So he opened the door and came out, leading Ganga? Hara.It is already a new four year old horse.I yelled, "Hey! Get the scissors!" Somia ran out and handed me the scissors.I trimmed the black horse's mane and glanced at Somia from time to time. At that time, she would smile at me. In this way, it came to the autumn when we were sixteen years old. One day, we transported the dried white mushrooms we picked up all autumn to the commune supply and marketing agency for sale.Somia and grandma drove the boxcar full of mushrooms, and I rode a steel ga? Hara to accompany me. We were delayed in the commune for a long time - my father wanted to entertain grandma and us for dinner.It was late by the time we returned to Borregon Bend.Somia picked up some early withered reed leaves and dried horse dung; I set up a small pot on the Nishi bank by the river.We are going to set up a fire, boil a pot of tea with the river water, and have something to eat before we go on our way. On the banks of the nitrate soil grows tender and salty lychee.Beside the thick and hard rhizomes of the Achnatherum splendens, there are also some green leaves that have not turned white.Jian Niu and Gang Ga? Hara chewed greedily.Almost without moving a step, let the floating smoke spread over their dark bodies.The three of us, grandparents and grandchildren, sat around the fire and chatted casually.The river bay is green and hazy, and orange sparks are splashed in the red flames, roasting our chests.The flowing water is jumping with phosphorescence, and slides smoothly and silently. We look at the quiet hometown, and our hearts are full of good feelings. "Here it is. Children," Grandma said, sipping her tea, watching the creek with cloudy eyes. "This is where married girls bid farewell to their loved ones. Oh, how many girls I've seen in my life, oh, young girls like you, Somia.—I've crossed this river and I've never seen them again. The same is true for me. It has been more than 50 years since I crossed this river and came here... The old people sang such a song: "Bergen, Bergen, the girl crossed the river, but she didn't see her hometown and relatives." '..." We packed up the pots and pans, extinguished the fire, and when we were about to continue our journey, grandma suddenly grabbed us both.She said anxiously and nervously: "Somiya! Oh, if you also cross this river and give it to that far away place, I, I will die of sorrow! I see, I see, you two are in the same place. Let's get married in our own family! You get married! In this way, I won't lose a single treasure..." We both broke free from grandma's arms at the same time.I jumped on the horse and whipped a few times.Amid the howling wind, the black horse jumped up the hill.When I reined in the horse, there was singing behind me.I turned the horse's head and saw from a distance that silver-haired grandmother walking and singing energetically. She was leading the bullock cart with one hand and the girl with the other.She walked resolutely, her silver hair fluttering in the night wind.She must have seen one of the most solid and inspiring beauty, which gave birth to such a vigorous spirit. That night, grandma stubbornly hid in the west side of the yurt to sleep; the white mat that belonged to the hostess and hostess was vacant just north of the stove...