Chapter 2 2. My distant Qingping Bay

Yellow cattle in the north are generally divided into Mongolian cattle and North China cattle.Among the North China cattle, Qinchuan cattle and Nanyang cattle are the best. They are big, with high shoulders and strong strength.The cattle crossed between Huabei cattle and Mongolian cattle are more beautiful, with forward-curved horns, strong top brackets, and solid skin, which is easy to raise.I know a little bit about the cattle in the north.Let's put it this way: If anyone wants to buy a cow now, I guarantee he can pick the best one for him.Everyone knows about body shape, teeth, and spirit; you may be able to pick a good cow based on these alone, but you may not be able to pick a really good cow.The key is to look at your temper. Take a whip, flick it, and with a "swish", the good cow will stare round and jump left and right.Such a cow works hard and walks happily.What about the tired cow?Hearing the sound of the whip, he must have slumped down and closed his eyes.endured.Don't want such a cow.When I joined the queue, I fed cattle for two years in Qingping Bay, a small mountain village in northern Shaanxi.

Although our place is still a loess plateau, there is only loess, and there is no real flat plateau.Due to the engulfment of floods every year, the plateau always collapses, flowing into the Yellow River along ditches, canals and small rivers.From Luochuan to the north, there are all yellow hills or yellow mountain ridges, stretching continuously.There are very few trees, and the villagers remember clearly how many trees there are on which mountain; only one or two trees are brought down when making new cellars or making coffins.Cypress trees with a thick bowl mouth are extremely rare.Anyone who can make a coffin made of thin cypress boards will be admired by everyone, and it will be spread within dozens of miles.

When blocking cattle on the mountain, I often thought that if the loess mountains were all grain piles and wheat stacks, and the wormwood on the hillside and the spikes in the gullies were all cypress forests, it would be fine.The old man who stopped the cow with me always smoked the dry cigarette "sighly", smiled and said: "Then I will eat white steamed buns all the time. The old man's family and the wife's family both sleep on good food." .” The old man who blocked the cattle with me was named Bai.In northern Shaanxi dialect, "Bai" has the sound of "Po", so we all call him "Po Old Man".Maybe it's also because he is poor, "poor" in English means "poor".Or because of something else: those broken teeth, those sparse beards.Especially his voice—he loves to sing, but his voice is like a broken gong.When I drove the cattle back to the village in the evening, the last ray of sunlight shone red on the edge of the cliff.The broken old man picked up a bundle of firewood with a shovel, carried it, and sang all the way: "Blossoms bloom on the edge of the cliff, and red on the edge of the cliff, life is good..." The voice was very long, although it was not loud, it trembled slightly and was melodious. .By chance, two little brains protruded from the top of the cliff, listened for a while, and ran away: maybe they were foxes or wild sheep.However, if you want to live by hunting, there are very few wild animals.The outstanding feature of our place is poverty, poor mountains and rivers, and "good times" are always a kind of hope for "suffering people".When it was getting dark, the children who went into the mountains to look for wild vegetables also returned to the village. The older ones pulled the younger ones, and the younger ones pulled the smaller ones. Bitter cabbage, amaranth or garlic, mushrooms... The children follow behind the cows, arguing "creakingly", scrambling to pick up the cow dung.

The poorer the place, the heavier the farm work.Sowing in spring; harvesting wheat in summer; more busy in autumn when corn, sorghum, and millet are ripe; building dams and building terraces in winter.Let's just talk about spring planting. It's up to people to send dung to the mountain.A load of dung is six to seventy catties, and it has to be delivered four or five times in the morning; two work points are earned, which is six cents.In Beijing, it is enough to buy two popsicles.Of course there were no popsicles in that place, and I was thirsty from working on the mountain, so I drank any kind of water.Before dawn, people plowing the land carried wooden plows and drove cattle up the mountain.When the sun came out, several fields had been plowed.The flaming sun cast long shadows of cows and people on the hillside. Behind the plow was the manure spreader, behind the manure spreader was the seeder, and after the seeder was the soil maker, the group walked slowly. Moving forward rhythmically, following the long sound of yelling.Sometimes the yelling of bulls is tired and sad; sometimes it is cheerful and humorous, arousing laughter.That scene almost made me forget which century I was living in, silently thinking about the distant and long history of mankind.Human beings seem to have come this way.

During the Ching Ming Festival, I fell ill, and my waist and legs hurt badly.At that time, I thought it was sciatic nerve pain or lumbar muscle strain, but I didn't expect it to develop to such a serious degree.It is windy before and after Qingming in northern Shaanxi, and the sky is always yellow.The sun was white.The window paper of the cave dwelling was slammed by the wind and sand.I was lying alone on the kang... That day, the captain brought a bowl of white buns... It is a custom in northern Shaanxi that every family steams white buns during the Ching Ming Festival, and no matter how poor you are, you have to steam a few.The white buns are dyed red and green, and the villagers call them "zichui".At first we didn't know which two words it was or what it meant, so we called it "Purple Hammer".I found out later that it was called "Zitui", in memory of a man named Jiezitui in the Spring and Autumn Period.The old man said that he was a strong man, he would rather be burned to death in the mountains than go out to be an official.I haven't verified it, and I don't know what historians have to say about it.Anyway, everyone in Qingping Bay, old and young, are very happy to eat a meal of white buns.Especially the children, in the first few days they shouted to eat Zitui Momo.The Spring and Autumn Period is more than two thousand years ago, and the culture of northern Shaanxi is as old as the Yellow River.For example, there are quite a few very literary words in the northern Shaanxi dialect: "Call" does not say "Call", but "Call"; coriander is called coriander; Lie"...even the most uneducated wife would use the word "brew".During the membership meeting, a crowd of kiln people sat in the dark, the small oil lamp was emitting black smoke, and the red light of the pipes and pots was shining everywhere.After reading the document, the branch secretary shouted: "Don't dare to sleep! Let's discuss it!" The crowd stopped snoring and responded unhurriedly: "It's brewing and brewing..." The word "brewing" makes people feel Thinking that it is indeed a holy place of revolution, the villagers still remember the good style of the year.But in those years when we jumped in the queue, "brewing" was just a habitual colloquial term.When the folks said "brewing", they also knew in their hearts; the ball is not going to be topped!But when the branch secretary asks to speak, everyone must have something to say; it is also difficult for the branch secretary, in fact, those policy provisions have already been decided.Finally, the branch secretary shouted again: "Agree, don't you?" Everyone replied: "Agree—" and then went back to the kiln to sleep.

That day, the team leader put a bowl of "Zitui" on the edge of the kang for me to eat.He also sat on the edge of the kang, smoking "bad da da da". "Zitui" Futou uses the first two crops of flour, which are very white; the inside is all black flour, and all the bran has been ground into it.The captain watched me eat without saying a word.Before leaving, he blew on the pot and said, "Oh! It's not easy for 'Xin'er' to be home, and he is far away from home." "Xin'er" means child. When the team held another meeting, the captain suggested that I feed the cows.Members all agree. "Young offspring don't dare to let the waist and legs get sick, so feed our cows at a good price!" Everyone said that when they saw me.In that place, carrying manure, chopping firewood, carrying water, grinding tofu during the Qingming Festival, making jelly during the Dragon Boat Festival, making sesame oil, and building cave dwellings...all by yourself.The waist and legs are the capital of labor; the only cow that can replace human power is simply a treasure.The fellow gave me such confidential work as feeding the cows. I was very moved, but I couldn't say anything.Peasants don't look at their mouths, but at their hands.I feed ten of them, and the poor old man feeds ten of them, in the same farm.The feedlot was built at the highest point of the village, a piece of flat land, two rows of cowsheds, and a broken stone kiln for stacking fodder at three eyes.The water of the Qingping River is "squeaky" all day long, and the water is very shallow. It turned a corner in front of the village and formed a pool.On one side of the river bend is a rocky cliff, and on the other side is an open river beach.In summer, the children in the village tossed and tossed on the river beach with their buttocks bare, and jumped into the pool "plop plop". Sometimes they caught a turtle, laughed and shouted, and made troubles.The shabby old man sat on the roof of the kiln in front of the feedlot and watched, smoking bag after bag. "The 'Xin'er' family doesn't know how to worry," he said, and then sang in a hoarse voice: "Speaking of that family, the family is famous, and the family lives in Suide Sanlipu Village..." The poor old man is from Suide , when I was young, I came to Qingping Bay as a part-time job and lived there.Suide produces day laborers, masons, and storytellers, and that place is even poorer.

Suide also played blowing hands.Around the Lunar New Year's Eve.Sitting on the farm, you can often hear the joyful suona sound.Those blowers also came from Mizhi and Jia counties, but most of them were from Suide.They stringed them everywhere, and just stood in front of anyone's kiln and played for a while.If that family happened to want to marry a daughter-in-law, they would be pushed there, bragging about it all day and having a good meal all day.If you are unlucky and the blowing is over, you can only ask others for food or money.More or less, every family gave, especially the poor old man.He said: "No one has a hard time."It turned out that he also worked in that business, and he was able to eat enough to eat, but he was often exposed to the cold. If no one invited him, he would have to live in a cold kiln at night. "It's difficult to recruit workers, ouch, it's difficult to recruit workers; in the first month, it's full in October, and the cattle and horses suffer, and the pigs and dogs eat..." he sang, adding grass to the cattle.The broken old man was full of songs.

I knew the folk songs of northern Shaanxi since I was a child.Not long after we arrived in Qingping Bay, we invited fellow villagers to sing during breaks from work. Everyone said that the old man loved to sing, and he sang well. "The old man's life is tormenting, and he sings good folk songs when he is sad." Indeed, most folk songs in northern Shaanxi have a sad tone.However, when you sing it, you will be happy.Sometimes when driving cattle out of the village, the poor old man sang "Walking to the West Gate" in a low voice. Don’t take the small road anymore, there are many people on the main road, go back and forth to relieve your worries..." The women and girls in the courtyard shouted at me happily, "Let the old man sing "Bachelor Crying His Wife", the old man sings beautifully!" The poor old man pretended not to hear, changed his tune, and sang "My Daughter Marries": "There was a jingle in one watch, and the little brother came into my embroidery room. Mother asked the girl what the sound was. The northwest wind made the door bolt ring. ..." The following lyrics are not suitable for words.The old man and I drove the cattle a long way, and we heard mothers-in-law and women scolding in the yard.The old man winked at me, stuck out a willow stick, drove the cattle, and sang all the way.

The poor old man only lived with his seven or eight-year-old granddaughter.The child's nickname was "Liu Xiaoer".She often cooks meals for the couple. Drive the cattle into the mountains.It was noon.The sun baked the loess so red that it looked like it was about to burst into flames.The unknown little insect in the grass called "magic-magnetic-".The mountains also looked tired, leaning against each other listlessly.There are only me and the old man within a radius of more than ten miles, only the sound of our yelling.The old man knows where there is spring water: a small pit is dug with a few shovels, and water accumulates in the pit after a while.Small bubbles like thin beads rise up in strings, and the water is very small, cool and sweet. "Look at me, I'll look at you too..." The old man drank water, wiped his mouth, and sang again at the top of his voice.I don't know what he remembered again.

It is not easy to stop cattle in summer. Good grass grows on the edge of the field, very close to the crops.We ran around yelling and cursing.The old man scolding a cow is like scolding a person. His father, mother, and eight generations of ancestors scolded so affectionately.If you are not careful, any cunning guy will steal Tian Miao.What I hate the most is the old black cow fed by the old man, which can be called "scheming".It can clearly distinguish weeds and field seedlings.It pretended to be eating the grass beside the field, and slowly approached the field seedlings, with its head down, but its eyes slipped away from me.When I looked at it, it would not eat the field seedlings no matter how close it was, and acted honestly and honestly. As soon as I turned around, it took the opportunity to gnaw down a corn or sorghum, turned around and left.I saw through its trick, and when it approached Tian Miao again, I pretended not to look at it, and only when it was sure that Wuyu stretched its tongue towards the restricted area, I yelled loudly.The old guy staggered back, panicked and remorseful, which was a bit pathetic.

Cattle in northern Shaanxi are suffering too. Sometimes I see them so tired that they don’t want to eat grass, panting heavily and shaking their bodies, I’m really afraid that they will fall to the ground.Especially when those cows scrambled to lick the salt and alkali seeping out of the ground, I really felt that the Creator was too unfair.I wanted to buy some salt for them several times, but I was so greedy that I bought eggs with all the money sent by my family. Every night, the poor old man and I would stay on the farm until eleven or two o'clock, adding grass to the cows over and over again.Grass should be added frequently, not too much each time.Liu Xiaoer followed the old man, never leaving.Her little handkerchief always contained two sweet potatoes or a handful of corn kernels.The broken old man started a fire with the leftover grass knots eaten by the cattle. The dry "crackling" sounded, and the wet "cici" smoked.The fire illuminated the feedlot, and the surrounding mountains appeared taller and darker according to the cattle grazing.Liu Xiao'er buried sweet potatoes or corn in the burnt grass ash; if it was corn, he had to use a branch to move it around, and with a "pop", a popcorn popped out.That is the best snack for Shanliwa. Liu Xiaoer asked me endlessly about Beijing. "Is it really watching a movie in a kiln?" "It's not a kiln, it's a movie theater." "You said it was in a kiln before." "Oh, that's a TV. It's a square box, just like a movie." She tilted her head thinking , I probably couldn't imagine it, and asked about something else. "Whenever you want to eat meat, you can eat it?" "Yeah." "Xuan Lie!" "Really." "Would you like to eat at a sky-high price?" "Then eat at a sky-high price." She asked these words many times, I also know how to answer, but I still ask. "You said Beijingers don't like white meat?" She thought it was strange that Beijingers didn't like fatty meat.She raised her small face and looked at the stars in the sky; the mystery of Beijing was no less than that of the Milky Way to her. "The dolls in the mountains don't open anything," said the old man.The poor old man has seen the world. He joined the party in 1937 and fought with the team all the way to Guangzhou.He often talks about Guangzhou: neon lights are everywhere, Guangzhou people even eat snakes, there are tall buildings everywhere, and there are elevators in the buildings... Keeping children awake when they hear it.I said, "People in the city don't know anything about the countryside." "Do people in the city untie a dog?" Liu Xiaoer asked, giggling.She was referring to the fact that when we first arrived in Qingping Bay, we were chased all over the village by dogs. "Students can't even solve the price of steers and raw cattle," Liu Xiaoer said, touching the cattle that were grazing, and counting: "Red steers, steers, peanut cattle... Lord! I'm afraid it will be difficult for the old black cattle." I won’t eat it!” “It’s old,” said the old man.The night in the mountains is very quiet, only the "rustling" sound of cattle grazing, crickets chirping, and sometimes wolves howling in the distance.The broken old man pulled up the broken huqin "creakingly" and sang: "Winter begins on the first nine days, the king of hell leads the troops to the east of the river, and Youzhou traps Yang Wenguang. The year is peaceful, and Miss Jinhua leads the soldiers..." History sang upside down. The most common question Liu Xiaoer asks is Tiananmen Square. "Do you often go to Tiananmen Square?" "Go often." "Chairman Mao often?" "Where is he coming from? I've never seen him before." "Huh?! He's on Tiananmen Square, so you won't notice him if you go?" She I probably thought that Chairman Mao was always standing on Tiananmen Square, just like the one in the painting.Once she whispered in my ear, "Will you lead me up when you go back to Beijing in winter?" I said, "I'm afraid your grandpa won't let me go." "Tell him, he will believe what you say." I have money to spend." "Where did you get the money?" "My grandfather didn't want the money for selling eggs, but gave it to me to buy coats." "How much?" "Five yuan!" "Not enough. "Hey--I coax you, look, eight and a half yuan!" She took out a small cloth bag and opened it.Most of the money I bought eggs for the old man.Usually I am really hungry and want to satisfy my hunger, that is, buy a few eggs.How can I tell Liu Xiaoer?I really want to take her with me when I go home in winter.But in the winter of that year, I became very ill. In fact, feeding cows is not difficult. In the words of the old man, as long as you are diligent and willing to worry about it.Feeding the cows is just to make people suffer. They have to get up several times at night, and they can't sleep soundly all year round.In winter, the feeling of crawling out of the hot quilt in the middle of the night is not good.Especially when the cows are mixed with ingredients at the fifth watch, the cows bury their heads and eat deliciously. I can sleep a few times while sitting on the bluestone slab beside the cow trough.The shabby old man chattered in my ears: the price of food on the black market has risen again, the cooperatives have come with striped velvet, and the jackets of the children left behind are so rotten that they are exposed... I replied with a "humming hahaha", I just dreamed about the roast duck in Quanjude, Suddenly fell into the ice hole in Shichahai, and woke up with a shiver, the old man hadn't finished nagging. "Why don't you go back to the kiln and sleep, I'll mix the secondary ingredients for you," the old man said.A bright light flashed across the sky, it was a shooting star.The moon also hid in the valley.Stars and mountains, I don’t know who is looking at whom, or who has forgotten whom, "This business is not done by the young family, and it is the time for the young family to sleep," the old man said, and then "Alas, alas—" With emotion.I fell asleep again in a daze. When it rained or snowed, the two of us hid in the cowshed.The cowshed is full of excrement and urine, and there is no place to take a nap.At that time, my legs and waist were always sore. "Unlucky day"!The old man scolded me, and then said to me: "Beijing is so beautiful, what are you doing here in this valley?" "Why didn't you stay in Guangzhou at that time?" I asked casually.He grabbed those yellow beards, used the cigarette pot to pluck out the cigarette purse, stared blankly for a long time, and said, "What! I asked you to ask me, and I don't know how much it is for a bastard." .” Then he was stunned for a long time, as if recalling the reason. "Hey, if you can't make a felt from rolling wool, you can't be an official from the mountains." He said, "If I didn't come back then, I would live in a western-style building and bring the guards with me. Mountain people Be silly, as long as you go home after the battle, there is nothing better than a kiln. Oh! Or, my little one is worried about not being able to wear a woolen jacket right now?" Every time I send money home, the old man always yells for me to invite him to smoke cigarettes. "Okay!" I said, "How about 'Peony'?" Send a few of the '' in the box." "Silly baby!" He scolded. "The one in the back ditch" refers to a widow who lives in the back ditch, nineteen years younger than the poor old man, and everyone in the village knows that the widow is good to the old man.The old man was smoking a cigarette and looking into the distance.I also sang: "Look at me, I'll look at you too..." I handed him a few cigarettes and gestured towards the back ditch.He didn't say anything, he smiled and didn't know what he was thinking.At the end, he put a few cigarettes into a cigarette pouch and said, "Liu Xiaoer will marry you and go to Beijing when she grows up!" While stopping cattle on the back hill, I looked at the earthen cave dwelling in the back ditch from a distance, and I asked the poor old man, "How is that auntie?"I asked, "Then why don't you live with her?" "Hey—you still..." He interrupted, "Forget it!" I said, "Then you often go to her kiln at night." I'm actually joking. "Hey! Don't dare to talk nonsense!" He pretended to be serious.I lied to him: "I've seen it all, but you still don't admit it!" He kept silent and smiled awkwardly.Actually I didn't see anything. The old man looked at the cave dwelling at the foot of the mountain.In front of the kiln, Liangliang's mother was struggling to chop a lump of tree root; a boy helped her chop it, it was Liangliang. "I think you should just marry her. It's hard enough for her alone. Besides, someone will sew clothes for you." "Oh, who cares if you leave the child?" Liangliang is also very spoiled, and I will be angry if I leave the child. The stepmother is always not close." "What stepmother, the child will call her grandma." "It's not the same?" There was no one in the mountain, we opened up and said.Smoke rose from the roof of Liangliang's kiln.The old man stared blankly, a wisp of blue smoke wafting in the ravine.The elementary school bell rang "Dangdang".The sun went down, and the people who finished work walked in the dusk with hoes on their shoulders.The sheep guards also yelled at the sheep to return to the village. The big sheep yelled, and the little sheep yelled "baa baa".The old man was still sitting blankly, smoking a cigarette.He was clearly moved, but he was also afraid that he would be sorry for staying with the child.Liu Xiaoer's death was miserable, and no one would dare to ask the old man about it. It is said that the old man would cry and slap himself on the mouth whenever he thought about it.I heard that it was all because the poor old man was reluctant to give more gifts to the doctor, which delayed his son's illness; in fact, a few catties of rice or noodles would do.Those years! In autumn, tying cattle in the mountains is simply a kind of enjoyment.The crops were all harvested, the fields were bare, but the weeds in the valleys and ditches were growing luxuriantly.Throw the cows into the ditch, and they can lie on the ditch gate to sleep; or drive the cows up the mountain, and sit down at the intersection at the foot of the mountain to read a book.The colors of the autumn mountains are no longer so monotonous: the leaves of the small shrubs on the cliffs are red, the leaves of the pear trees are yellow, and the jujube trees are covered with small jujubes like coral beads...especially the clusters of wild flowers blooming on the hillside , light blue, clumps next to each other, misty.The little gray voles poked their heads out from behind the loess; the wild pigeons came out of the holes on the cliffs and flew into the sky "fluttering"; Grass...I'm surprised that no one catches and eats these small animals in such a hard life.Maybe it was because there were no guns, maybe it was because the birds were too small and few, but mostly it was something else.For example: when the swallows come in spring, every family opens the windows, hoping that the swallows will come to make their nests in the kiln; many kilns live in a nest of swallows, and no one hurts them.If anyone says that the meat of swallows can be eaten, the villagers will show surprise and stare at you: "Hey! Swallows!" It seems that it is blaspheming the gods. After the wheat was planted, the cattle were idle, and the poor old man and I spent all day blocking cattle in the mountains.The old man couldn't stay idle, drove the cattle to the place, explained to me a few words, and then disappeared.Sometimes I suddenly see him appearing on the half-cliff, struggling to chop down a small shrub.It is difficult to eat, and it is also difficult to burn. For a handful of firewood, you often have to climb very high and steep cliffs.The old man said that it was not like this in the past. In the past, there were few people, and the good firewood in the mountains could not be cut down, and people couldn't get in because of the density.What the old people miss most is that when the Red Army first arrived in northern Shaanxi, they overthrew the landlords, divided the land, and worked alone. "At that time, you could eat something, and you could cook something, what happened now!" All the villagers said.Really, "what's going on now", superstition activities have revived.Once, it was said that gods and gods came from the east of the Yellow River, and some fellow villagers went to a ruined temple more than ten miles away to pray and make wishes.The old man won't go.I asked him why, but he frowned and hummed "Shandandan Blossoms Brilliantly Red".That was the song that became popular for a while.After a long time, I knocked on the cigarette pot hard, and sighed: "It's all caused by that auntie!" "Which number?" I asked knowingly.Pointing at the sky with his pipe, he shook his head and curled his lips: "Auntie, I'll know as soon as I take a picture..." In this way, the old man's rebellion against the "Gang of Four" was several years earlier than the "April 5" Movement! In the mountains, with those cows as companions, even if I am left alone, I am not lonely.I watched those cows for a long time, and I understood what their every move meant.Usually, cows don't like to bark, only raw cows with calves.The sun is in the west, and the cow with the calf is anxious to go back to the village. If you don’t let it go back, it will keep mooing, turning around in a hurry, and has no intention of grazing. . Once, I fell asleep in a mountain valley, and when I woke up, the sun was already close to the top of the mountain.The old man and I drove the cow back to the village, and suddenly found that one was missing.There are often dark holes washed by rain in the mountains, and cattle will fall and break if they step on them.The poor old man was also surprised at first, but he saw it right away, and said, "It's okay, it's thinking about it, and it's going back." Only then did I realize that what was missing was a raw cow with a milk calf.Far away from the village, I heard the cows bleating on the farm, the sound of the son, and the sound of the mother. It seemed that we hadn't seen each other for a day, and there were endless intimate words between mother and child.Bumping and sucking under the mother's belly, the eyes of the cow are full of tenderness and love, and the expression is so satisfied and calm.I like that cow, like that cow is not old.My favorite is a red steer, with high shoulders, long waist and strong legs, which can pull a long-stride plow with a single jacket.The horns of the red steer are well-grown, thick and long, and bent forward; several times when it encounters a herd of cattle in the neighboring village, it always defeats the leader of the other party and flees.I always give it extra toppings and reward it.But it's not the chief.What I hate the most is the old black cow, not only cunning, but also domineering. It will also pant in both sets, but it occupies the position of the leader.It was brave enough to meet the leader of the outer "tribe", but it ran faster than usual in no less than two rounds.That old cow is just fine. Although it is older than the old black cow, it is very kind. No matter how small the cow stretches its neck at it, it will patiently lick its fur... Being with a cow is also a lot of fun Well, what else should I do?Within a radius of more than ten miles, there was no one to be seen, it was all mountains.Occasionally, a sheep-stopper walked past the mountain ridge and shouted at me twice.The black goat walks on the steep rock wall like a flat ground, which looks like a hanging chessboard from a distance; the white sheep walks below, which are white chess pieces.There is spring water in the ravine, drink it when you are thirsty, and take off your clothes and wash it when it is hot.That life is free and easy, but I am often hungry. The poor old man has a younger brother, and I feed the cows instead of him.It is said that the man was cunning and stole cattle feed; in the first few years, he was sent to the county prison for speculation.I don't think that person is so bad, he just steamed white buns and went to water stations dozens of miles away to sell them at a high price, earning a few liters of corn and sorghum rice from it.I can't bear to eat white noodles.He also said that he caught crows, cooked them and sold them as chickens, and the white buns were also adulterated.The poor old man looked down on his younger brother, and what the poor old man admired was honest sufferers. There was a burst of folk songs, and the old man came back with two bundles of firewood. "Are you hungry?" he asked me. "I ate your rations," I said. "Can you eat that amount of dry food?" He seemed to be relieved, he sang "hum huh huh" and led me to a big pear tree in the valley on the back of the mountain. "What to eat!" He said and climbed up the tree.He was fifty-six years old that year, and he looked older, but he was better than me at climbing trees.He stood on the tree, poked off a branch full of pears, and threw it to me.The fruit is bronze-colored, the size of a little finger, with broken yellow spots on it, very sour, and tooth-losing. The old man sat on a tree branch to eat, and sang again: "The river flows in the ditch opposite, and some guerrillas come down from Hengshan..." It was "Xintianyou".The old man probably remembered the past again.He said that he carried Liu Zhidan's coffin and guarded his spirit.Others said he was bragging.Old men are sometimes good at bragging. "The morning glory, the oxen, the flowers, the sheep, the sheep, the spring, see you in February until now..." It's still "Xintianyou".I yelled at him: "Didn't I just see you?" "Silly baby, why don't you hurry up and find an aunt? Don't worry about delaying your 'heart'!" He retorted. "Does the 'back ditch' fascinate men?" "Hey! Liangliang's mother, you are so kind!" "These two bundles of firewood were cut by Liangliang's mother, right?" .” This is true, the old man is poor, but he is not stingy. Once I got up in the middle of the night to feed the cows, and by a ray of moonlight, I groped into the grass kiln.Just as I was about to grab the grass, two people suddenly stood up from the haystack. My scalp was numb with fright, and I couldn't help shouting, which scared the two people too.An older man hurriedly said: "Don't be afraid, we are good people." The old man ran over with a lantern, thinking that there were wolves.Those two people are blind storytellers, they come from Suide.When it was dark, I went into the grass kiln and fell asleep.The poor old man led them back to his kiln and gave them leftover dry food to eat.There is a folk song in northern Shaanxi: "When a fellow countryman sees a fellow villager, his tears are in tears." The old man and the two blind men sighed and chatted all night. The next night, the poor old man took care of it, and the whole village paid for the two blind men to read a book.The book is messy, Li Yuhe also has it, and Jiang Taigong also has it. For a while, Wu Zixu's hair turned white overnight, and for a while, it is the chairman's quotations.On the roof of the kiln, on the wall of the courtyard, and on the millstone, there are all people sitting, all listening intently.What can be said, no one is vague.The tune that people listen to.The storytelling in northern Shaanxi is actually singing, playing the sanxian, and Ai Ai sings complainingly, like weeping and complaining, like the Qingping river bubbling in front of the village.The moonlight danced on the river.The sorghum and millet all over the mountain were rustled by the evening wind, and there was a loud donkey braying from time to time.The shabby old man sat in the crowd with Liu Xiaoer in his arms, singing along in a low voice.Liangliang's mother sat on the roof of the kiln with Liangliang, dressed neatly.Liu Xiaoer fell asleep in the old man's arms. She thought she was going to popcorn at the farm after reading the book, clutching the small handkerchief bag in her hand.It was rare for the mountain village to be so lively. I would rather go to see the bulls on top of their heads. It is actually a beneficial entertainment, giving people a feeling of strength and an incentive to fight hard.I've done a lot of research on bull fighting. The twenty cows (mainly the dozen or so steers and bulls) were all arranged in order, of course not in alphabetical order of the surnames, but on what grounds, I was also confused at first.The strongest red steer I fed was in awe of the old black bull fed by the old man.The red bullock is young and strong, the muscles on the shoulders are like a hill, and it walks like a breeze, but the old black bullock is already old and thin, leaving only a tall skeleton.However, the old black cow is the leader.When a cow came into heat, the old black cow would stare at the cow almost without eating or drinking, and would never allow others of the same sex to approach.I urged the red steer to challenge it several times, but as soon as the old black bull shook its horns, the red steer hurriedly avoided.I really hate the arrogance and domineering of the old black bull, and I am angry at the cowardice of the red steer.I later learned that the ranking of cattle is based on the annual wrestling, and whoever wins the first prize will be honored as the leader and enjoy the privilege of "Sangong Six Courtyards" during the year, even if it changes during the year. When sick, weak or old, other cattle are still overwhelmed by its majesty and prestige, and dare not disrespect rashly.The forces of habit are at work everywhere.However, it was different at the beginning of spring. After a winter of idleness, more than a dozen bullocks and bulls had accumulated strength, and it was time to re-compete and compete for the top spot. The "men" each weighed their opponents and their own strengths, and naturally recommended one (sometimes two) rookies with the largest physique and strength to compete with the former champion in the final.That spring, my red steer was in the rookie position and was starting to snub the old black.I quietly caused them to duel and led them to the open river beach (otherwise it would be dangerous).Don't let the old man find out about this, otherwise he will scold him.At the beginning, the red steer was still a little timid, and the old black bull still had some prestige.But maybe the cows in spring look more and more handsome. The red steer finally couldn't stand the attraction or contempt of the opposite sex, and challenged the old black bull with a "moo-moo--".They opened their postures, confronted each other, digging the soil with their hooves, their eyes were red, they approached slowly, approached... and wrestled together violently.What is needed at this time is strength and courage.The shape of the horns plays a big role. If it is two thick and long horns that bend forward, it will be very beneficial. If you shake it from side to side, it will touch the weak point of the other side. However, both the red bullock and the old black bull have such long horns. two corners.This is more than wit.After all, the former champion is old and overconfident in his power and prestige, but the rookie is serious and agile.The red steer occupied a favorable terrain (it is more advantageous to stand on a higher place), forcing the old black bull to retreat every step of the way, only to parry.The red steer didn't let up, seeing the opportunity, he lowered his head, swayed and rushed, and pushed against the opponent's neck.The old black bull turned around and fled in defeat, the red steer caught up and put a mark of failure on the old leader's buttocks.This concludes the first round.Such bouts are usually best-of-five or best-of-nine.The rookie won several rounds in a row, and the veteran voluntarily stepped aside to recall his bravery back then. For this matter, the broken old man showed me with a gloomy face.I smiled and handed over a cigarette.He was smoking a cigarette, looking at the scar on the old black cow's buttocks, and said, "It's old! It saved people's lives..." It is said that one New Year's Eve, every family drank rice wine and ate oil buns in the kiln, when the old man suddenly heard the howling of cows and howling of wolves.He thought of a newborn cow that was not old, and hurried to the cowshed.Good guy, I saw this black bull pushing a wolf into the corner of the wall. The black bull's face was bleeding from the wolf's claws, but it didn't move, and firmly inserted its horns into the wolf's stomach.The old man killed the wolf, sold the wolf skin, and the whole village smoked cigarettes once. "No, it's not here." The old man said, "That year the cattle in the village died or were killed (he didn't say which year), and they were almost gone. It all depended on the black cow and the cow that were left anyway.头老生牛，村里的牛才又多起来。全靠了它，要不全村人倒运吧！”破老汉摸摸老黑牛的犄角。他对它分外敬重。 “这牛死了，可不敢吃它的肉，得埋了它。”破老汉说。可是，老黑牛最终还是被人拖到河滩上杀了。那年冬天，老黑牛不小心踩上了山坡上的暗洞，摔断了腿。牛被杀的时候要流泪，是真的。只有破老汉和我没有吃它的肉。那天村里处处飘着肉香。老汉呆坐在老黑牛空荡荡的槽前，只是一个劲抽烟。 我至今还记得这么件事：有天夜里，我几次起来给牛添草，都发现老黑牛站着，不卧下。别的牛都累得早早地卧下睡了，只有它喘着粗气，站着。我以为它病了。走进牛棚，摸摸它的耳朵，这才发现，在它肚皮底下卧着一只牛不老。小牛犊正睡得香，响着均匀的鼾声。牛棚很窄，各有各的“床位”，如果老黑牛卧下，就会把小牛犊压坏。我把小牛犊赶开（它睡的是“自由床位”），老黑牛“噗通”一声卧倒了。它看着我，我看着它。它一定是感激我了，它不知道谁应该感激它。 那年冬天我的腿忽然用不上劲儿了，回到北京不久，两条腿都开始萎缩。 住在医院里的时候，一个从陕北回京探亲的同学来看我，带来了乡亲们捎给我的东西：小米、绿豆、红枣儿、芝麻……我认出了一个小手绢包儿，我知道那里头准是玉米花。那个同学最后从兜里摸出一张十斤的粮票，说是破老汉让他捎给我的。粮票很破，渍透了油污，中间用一条白纸相连。 “我对他说这是陕西省通用的。在北京不能用，破老汉不信，说：'咦！你们北京就那么高级？我卖了十斤好小米换来的，咋啦不能用？！'我只好带给你。破老汉说你治病时会用得上。” 唔，我记得他儿子的病是怎么耽误了的，他以为北京也和那儿一样。 十年过去了。前年留小儿来了趟北京，她真的自个儿攒够了盘缠！她说这两年农村的生活好多了，能吃饱，一年还能吃好多回肉。她说，真的还是比好吃些。 “清平河水还流吗？”我糊里巴涂地这样问。 “流哩嘛！”留小儿“咯咯”地笑。 “我那头红犍牛还活着吗？” “在哩！老下了。” 我想象不出我那头浑身是劲儿的红犍牛老了会是什么样，大概跟老黑牛差不多吧，既专横又慈爱…… 留小儿给他爷爷买了把新二胡。自己想买台缝纫机可没买到。 “你爷爷还爱唱吗？” “一天价瞎唱。” “还唱《走西口》吗？” “唱。” “《揽工调》呢？” “什么都唱。” “不是愁了才唱吗？” “咦？！谁说？” 关于民歌产生的原因，还是请音乐家和美学家们去研究吧。我只是常常记起牛群在土地上舔食那些渗出的盐的情景，于是就又想起破老汉那悠悠的山歌：“崖畔上开花崖畔上红，受苦人过得好光景……”如今，“好光景”已不仅仅是“受苦人”的一种盼望了。老汉唱的本也不是崖畔上那一缕残阳的红光，而是长在崖畔上的一种野花，叫山丹丹，红的，年年开。 哦，我的白老汉，我的牛群，我的遥远的清平湾……