Chapter 8 8. Notes on the Old House

The arithmetic of age is usually done by addition, counting from the date of birth, and adding one to the year after that; in this way, I am forty-five years old this year.However, this is actually a subtraction. One year of life is deducted from one year. Regardless of longevity or short life, it always marks the end; according to my situation, the deductions must be more than the reservations.The child looks up because the life is full of peaks; the old man bends down to see that the life has bottomed out.There can also be division. I can’t remember which sage said: Why do people feel that each year is passing faster?Because, say, one year is the whole of your life, and the forty-fifth year is only one forty-fifth of your life.It can also be multiplication. Every year you pass exists in all your days after that, where it is constantly rediscovered, re-understood, and constantly changed. For example, at the age of twenty-three, how much new do you have about it There are as many twenty-three years old as you have to discover and understand.

When I was 23 years old, I went to work in a street production team for seven years. ——There is nothing wrong with this statement. I am me, and the production team is the production team. I walked in there and worked for seven years.But it's either addition or subtraction.If you use division and multiplication, it is different.I am more obsessed with multiplication, so I can't tell which is me and which is the production team, just like I can't tell which is me and which is my mood.The small production team is gone, and those seven years have also passed away. What remains is my changing mood year by year, and the old houses, those years, those people and things that are constantly reborn.

It was two dilapidated old houses, and several new houses built with broken bricks, crowded deep in the dense alleys, the color of which was the same as that of all the alleys, messy gray and dark, making the sky appear bluer, Make the pigeons fly whiter.There used to be the edge of the old city, where the deserted moat turned from east to south; now, as the city continues to expand, it is almost the center of the city.In short, that place must have its exact latitude and longitude on this vast sphere, but this is not important, it just exists and grows in my mood, and a big world is just a long time to it and to me. legend.

I want to go there because I'm back in that big world.At that time, I had just sat in a wheelchair for more than a year. I was twenty-three years old. If I survived, there must still be a long time waiting for me. V told me there was such a place, and I said I wanted to go. V and I live on the same street, and I have just returned from the place where I jumped the queue. I want to wait for a satisfactory job and work in the production team for the time being.I said I would go, because I was afraid that people would not want it. V said no, it wasn't an official factory, and besides, the old ladies there were very kind-hearted.My father was not very happy for me to go, but he couldn't say anything. I understand what he meant: he would rather support me for the rest of his life.But such things as "a lifetime" must be raised by oneself, just like a dog, if it is raised by others, it belongs to others.All the official recruiting units were scared when they saw my wheelchair. I thought it was absolutely impossible to just stay at home and live.

I was rocking a wheelchair, and V led me to turn east and west in the alleys. In my impression, there were ten times fewer people on the street than now, and the sound of pigeon whistles in the sky made me uneasy.I am familiar with every alley. It is the road I used to walk when I was in elementary school. Later, I went to middle school. Later, I went to "tandem" and "jumped in line" and went to the hospital... It has been a long time since I have not walked these roads.Passing a half-decayed old pagoda tree is a mansion of a garage, passing the mansion is a small coal factory, passing the small coal factory is a grocery store, and passing the grocery store is an old temple. Wall, follow the red wall and go further, I remember there is a famous prison. V stopped and spoke.

It was the first time I saw those two old houses: dusty and dusty.There is a small empty space in front of the house, which is where the new houses will be built in the future.The autumn is bright and the leaves are golden. A group of old ladies are working in the sunny field in front of the house. They are probably looking forward to something extraordinary. Raise your eyes to look at me. V yelled "Auntie, Auntie" in a circle, then raised his head and called "Uncle B".An old man was squatting on the roof, laying asphalt on the leaking roof. "What's the matter, man? Come on! Don't be alone at home..." Uncle B said with a smile, showing his broken teeth.He is talking about me.

There should be a gentle, deep and simple song to match the time in the two old houses, to match its dim light all day long, to match its sometimes noisy and sometimes tired.Or there can be a line of lyrics, a simple sentence, sung slowly and repeatedly, which can present the life in that old house, smell its soot smell in the morning, hear it turn off the lights in the evening and The door lock slammed softly. Seven or eight of us young people occupied a corner of the old house and often sang while working.I can't remember and can't count what I have sung in the seven years.Looking back now, I can sing, but I can't find a single line that can match the emotions that flow slowly in the old house in my impression.What can meet it should only be a plain sentence, so plain that there is no ups and downs, but a straight line that trembles, short and continuous.This seems to be in my ears, or in my heart, but once I look for it, it drifts away.

The old ladies hope that this small production group can develop into a formal factory, have public medical care, and retire once they can no longer work. The children and grandchildren are not as reliable as having a pension for themselves.Most of them are illiterate, they only leave the house when they are in their fifties or sixties, and they spend most of their lives serving their husbands and children at home.The work we do is very elegant: depict beautiful ladies, flowers, birds, trees, landscape pavilions on antique lacquer furniture...then carve their outlines, clothing patterns, hair, leaf veins...on the lacquer surface... The gold is waxed and resplendently sent to the export for foreign exchange.

"Why do you want other people's foreign money? Can it be used?" The old lady A asked knowingly, scanning for a week, waiting for a response. "It's useless for you, the country is useful." Aunt G said, "If you want to buy foreign things, you have to use foreign money." "Foreign money is foreign money, what is it called foreign exchange?" "Do your job, old lady—! It's tiring to know so much." "I think it's a good deal. If foreign exchange is so rare, the country might be able to take over our factory..." The old ladies were silent for a while, their minds must have been attracted to a picture of the paradise.

"Hey, by the way, Master U, you should have seen foreign exchange?" So, a soft voice sounded from the quietest corner: "Is it foreign exchange? Oh, there are many kinds, such as dollars, yen, pounds, francs, marks... I haven't seen all of them." This voice The word is correct, the words are correct, and it floats gracefully in the simple old house, which is weird and very discordant, just like a delicate bungalow suddenly flashing in a messy narrow alley, even the dust has to retreat. "Yes, yes, paper currency is almost the same as RMB... yes, it is very rare, the country needs foreign exchange."

This time the silence was longer, and hope and confidence grew. But the old lady A thought about the problem again: "We buy foreign things with foreign money, don't foreign countries have to use Chinese money to buy our things? Then tell me, how can we exchange our things back into foreign currency?" "No," Master U smiled softly, "foreigners have to pay foreign exchange when they buy our things." "That's wrong, it's useless to use their money, and it's useless to co-operate with our money?" Master U just smiled and stopped talking. Many years later, in a five-star hotel, I saw such antique furnishings of lacquer: a table, a few embroidered piers, and a room with four screens.They are placed in the quiet hall and corridor, surrounded by several flowers and plants, and few people stop in front of them, but I am delighted like meeting an old friend in a foreign land.If you take a closer look, it is true that it is the simple painting and carving, and you seem to recognize every single stroke.I looked around and wanted to tell someone about their origins, but I immediately realized that no one here would understand them, no one would care about their origins, and no one would hear the hope and tranquility in the strokes.I touched the spotless lacquer surface of the screen, thinking that they may not have come from those two old houses, but who knows, maybe this is our work back then. end of winter.When the permafrost thawed and became warm and soft, Mr. B drew white lines on the open field in front of the door. The bricks, tiles and wood materials were also prepared, and the old house was filled with a cheerful atmosphere.But the bursts of laughter are not only because the new house is about to break ground, but also because there is a fool in the "infrastructure team" brought by Mr. B. "Hey, Sanzi, what brought you here?" "Aren't you going to build a house here?" "Hey, it's been a few days since I haven't seen any good results, can you build a house?" The third son smiled shamelessly: "Isn't there Mr. B here?" Three sons?The name sounds familiar.As I was thinking this, he had already stood in front of me and called my name. "Hey, do you still recognize me?" His eyes were sluggish and blurred. "Oh..." I remembered, this is my elementary school classmate, but why is he so old?Hunchbacked and wrinkled. "You are the king...?" "Wang...Wang...Wang Hailong." He looked serious, even nervous. Laughing at him again: "Just say 'Sanzi' to save trouble! Who in a radius of ten miles doesn't know Sanzi? Maybe no one can understand what 'Wang Hailong' is." The third son's face was red to the ears, and he wanted to argue a little bit, but finally he still laughed, his serious face turned into a face of shame, and the laughter only made a muffled "hum" in his throat. I hurriedly interrupted: "How many years, do you still remember me?" "Then can I still remember? You are the best in our class." Everyone interjected again: "Then who is the worst?" "Who is the one who hasn't graduated from elementary school for eleven years?" Too scared to go in, who is it?" "I——! Damn it, okay?!" The third son yelled fiercely, but the anger only flashed, and then turned into a guilty smile on his face, and then he raised his arms to protect his head. Sure enough, there was a slap, and it fell on the third son's head falsely. "You don't have much ability, but you learn quickly when you scold people!" "It's your aunt and aunt here, so it's your turn to scold people?" "Third son, how many objects have you met?" "How many are enough, how many dozen?" "No." The third son said. "Hey, hey--it's clear, if others can't do it or we can't do it?" "Third son!" Uncle B shouted, "Why don't you hurry up and work with me? These old 'Half the Sky' are so good at each other, who are you going to offend?" Uncle B led his third son away, shaking off the laughter and cursing in the old house. Uncle B led his three sons and V to dig the foundation, and there was a man in his forties named old E.The third son sighed for me while digging: "Who would have thought that he would be paralyzed? Alas, isn't he also finished now? I'm done with him in this life..." V stared three times after hearing this. Son: "If you're fucking done, it's over. Why is it over? If you talk nonsense, watch out and I'll beat you!" The third son remained silent, standing with his head on the handle of a shovel. Uncle B called him, but he didn't move. Uncle B went to drag him. He wiped away his tears in a panic, with an apologetic smile on his face. ——All these were told by Mr. B later. Sanzi's words hurt me. The twenty-three-year-old man with a disabled leg was in love.He fell in love with a healthy, beautiful and kind girl.Healthy, beautiful, kind-these words are very old and too common, but there are no other words for her, and other companies think of her as embellished.Other words, pretentious and flashy, will inevitably wear out a little bit over a long period of time.And healthy, beautiful, kind, these words have gone through thousands of years.There was only one word for that young lover: torment. The disability cannot be changed. He believes that he should not fall in love with her, but he falls in love with her, which is irresistible and inescapable, just like the sky above his head and the ground under his feet.Thus only one word belonged to him: torment.Not only because of pain, but also because of happiness, otherwise there would be no pain and no torture.It was the arrival of this love that made him want to live, to go into that big world and live for a hundred years. He kissed her in the wheelchair, and she allowed it, and God allowed it.He felt the need to live on, just like this, a hundred years is still too short.At that time, he thought that he had to work hard to do something, so that he might one day be worthy of her, worthy of God's permission.Kissed furtively but passionately, like a reunion in many sunny or gloomy moments, the torture was rewarded, and even a little more torture was enough for the reward.But there is always a huge shadow, or a huge black hole—I can't see where it is, but it must be waiting in the future. The words of the third son filled my heart with fear and despair.A fool's words are most likely to be true. The branches of the poplar tree are long and crooked, and in spring they are the first to spit out flower spikes, swaying in the gray sky.I rocked my wheelchair and walked aimlessly.The street was full of traffic and people, but there was no sound—I was at a loss but couldn't hear any sound, and there was an empty silence in my ears and heart.I often walk like this alone, without thinking, and let the journey fill up the time. Tiredness can sometimes make my heart feel comfortable, calm, or numb.On this day, I kept shaking my wheelchair along an avenue, no matter where I went, maybe I wanted to see how much strength I had, maybe I wanted to know where I would go if I kept shaking like this . When the sun was setting, I saw the farmland, the river canal, the barren hills and the distant mountains, and the smoke from the farmhouses in the wilderness.This is the first time I've been to the edge of the city since my legs were paralyzed.There is very little green, very thin, and the exposed soil takes up too much proportion. The sunset also dyes the precipitous spring wind into golden yellow, blowing illusoryly and vastly.I stopped the car, drank some water, and rested for a while.Close your eyes, and the world slowly has sounds: birds chirping one after another...crying or singing of farm boys...the occasional whistle of a train traveling far away...the city behind it "rumbling" And the incomparable silence nearby... But, am I finished? If even the third son says this, if love is annihilated by the noise behind, and imprisoned by the silence in front of you, what does this world have to do with you?Open your eyes, the wind is still the wind, I don't know where it comes and where it goes, like a wanderer, he has no fixed place.The sweat on his body was cold, a little cold.I continued to shake, maybe I thought: Shake to death, see if I can get out of this big world... Then, in the twilight, I ran into a young long-distance runner. A talented long-distance runner—K, K stopped beside me, looked at me in astonishment, and asked me where I was going?I said go home.He said, why did you go? I said just walk around.He said, do you know where this is? I shook my head.He pushed me up and ran silently, towards the "rumbling" city and the direction where the lights were densely gathered. When thinking of the unopened era, one will definitely think of K, and the image of him running silently on the noisy or silent streets.Maybe it's because, in that era, this lonely long-distance running can be used as a symbol, a memory, and a story. K was sent to reform through labor before he was an adult because of his inadvertent speech during the "Cultural Revolution". After three years of reformation, he came back, but he couldn't have a formal job like other people of his age.The so-called "reformed" is just marked "that is remodeled" (like a "pirated version"), so as not to be confused with "always good".In this way, K pedals a scooter in the street production group.The income from riding a scooter has just filled the needs of pedaling a scooter.Strength turns into money, money turns into food, and food turns into strength again and again. Both K and I have wondered what God's intention is? K started the long-distance running, hoping that there would be a loophole in the strict and simple cycle, leaving a little possibility for the dream. K thought that as long as he ran well, he could truly be on an equal footing with others, or get a regular job, or the luxury of being selected by some professional track and field team. K pushes me to run, the lights are getting denser, more and more vehicles and pedestrians... K pushes me to run, the moon on the roof is getting higher and higher; getting smaller and smaller, the starlight is getting brighter and wider... ... K pushed me to run, the hustle and bustle of the "rumble" slowly subsided, the city became quieter after a while... everything was silent, only the sound of K's footsteps and my wheels echoed in the valley... K pushed me and ran in my In my impression, I never stopped, I kept running silently like that, the night wind blowing against my face, the surrounding scenery was like ghostly shadows... Maybe, it was just that we were ghosts (we "published" without "copyright"), wearing Swimming in the city at midnight, wandering through thousands of dreams in this midnight... K is a talented long-distance runner.He has never had formal training and runs with only two gifts: his body and his dreams.He runs 20,000 to 30,000 meters every day, and he has to carry six to seven hundred catties of goods and pedal dozens of kilometers every day, during which he ate only two catties of grain three times.Everyone in the production team gave him extra food coupons.Not to mention any nutrition, only one month before the competition, he drank a bottle of milk every day, and then went to compete with many well-nourished and well-trained professional athletes.Every year during the "Spring Festival Ring Race", I watched him run in a wheelchair.Every year he comes back with a trophy or a certificate, but that's all, the dream is still a dream.It was not until many years later that K and I realized that it might not be God's kind words: A dream is a dream and nothing else. There was a thirteen or fourteen-year-old boy who wanted to run long-distance running with K, and K, who had never been instructed by any coach, became the coach.Later, the boy’s older sister met K, fell in love with K, and became K’s wife—at that time, K was still pulling a scooter, running, hoping to get a formal job, or be selected by a professional track and field team . K in love once said a word to me.He said he had wanted to say this to me for a long time.He said: "You should also have love, why shouldn't you?" I didn't answer, and I didn't want him to continue.But he said again: "For so many years, this is what I want to tell you the most." I really wanted to tell him that I have, I have love, but I still didn't tell him, I was afraid to watch this love future.At that time, I hadn't understood the revelation from God: If a dream is still a dream, that is good, just as love is your blessing as long as it is still love. Does Master U have any dreams? What kind of dreams does Master U have? Master U's feet never made a sound when they landed on the ground, and he walked alone in the deep alleys, never in groups. Master U walked into the old house to work, like a shadow, almost unnoticed. "Has Master U come?"——If someone asks, everyone just looks at her seat, and sees an old woman with black hair and a long figure, followed by a soft voice like a girl—— - "Here we come." When I first came to the old house, I heard that she was already fifty years old—unless I looked closely at her face, I would never believe it.Her figure is well maintained, and her gestures make people think: she must believe that she can stay in the past, or if she doesn't believe, she can't watch the passing years.Regardless of winter or summer, she wears overalls, with the buttons on the collar and cuffs fastened.She never washes her hands in the public basin, and never brings breakfast to the old house.She comes and works; after get off work, she leaves.She laughed softly at things that were really ridiculous, and she answered softly when she was asked questions, if she couldn't answer, she said "I'm sorry, I can't say well", and when things surprised her, she only said "Oh, is that right?" ". "Master U, can you tell everyone a few words of foreign language?" "No," she said, "I almost forgot it all." Little T said: "Master U, are those whispers that you listen to D singing in a foreign language?" She smiled and said, "I don't understand what language it is." Little T shouted to D: "Hey, do you hear that, even Master U can't understand, you call it a foreign language?" D walked up to Master U, bowed politely and said, "There are Albanian languages, South Slavic languages, Korean languages, and Indian languages." "Yo, is that so?" Master U smiled. "Master U, I have wanted to ask you for a long time. What do you mean by 'Duyo Rui Mamba'?" "You probably said doyouremember, meaning, 'do you remember'." "Oh, my god." D scratched his head, and then asked, "What about 'Deo Stranghat'?" Master U listened carefully, but shook his head. "A straw hat, is it?" "Straw hat? Oh, probably the old strawwhat; 'That old straw hat', huh?" "What about 'Yo feed Tumi'?" "You gave me, that's 'you gave me'. Oh, the whole sentence should mean, 'Mom, do you remember that old straw hat you gave me'." D nodded, clicked his tongue, walked around the old house with his thumbs up, and returned to his seat. Little T was so happy that he danced with his hands and feet: "Wow, my god, did you fall this time, buddy D?" D ignored little T, and said: "Master U, I really don't understand, you are so knowledgeable, why do you want to hang out with us?" Aunt L's gaze sensitively turned to Master U, paused for a moment on the face that was irresistibly going towards old age, and then moved away in time: "D, it's your job, don't talk so casually! " I heard that Master U graduated from the Spanish Department of a famous university. I heard that Master U once had a good job, but later fell ill, and after many years of illness, he lost his job.I heard that Master U has never been married, and I heard that no matter who introduces her to someone, she politely declines. Master U is definitely a mystery.When I was lonely in the old house, I occasionally peeked at her and inadvertently guessed her story.I think that there must be an extraordinary dream buried in those fifty years of life, and there must be a soul-stirring story behind that elegant and calm voice.But her story is kept secret, and even the aunts and aunts in the old house don't know it, otherwise it will definitely spread. It should be a love story, a tragedy.It should be a dream that cannot be dissipated with the wind and cannot be diluted by the years, otherwise there will be no tragedy.It should not be just for a person who has left, but for a painstaking effort that cannot be taken lightly. Otherwise, that person has already left you. What are you willing to watch? Waiting for him to come back?I'd rather not be such a popular story.If he doesn't come back (or is impossible to come back), it must be absurd? It shouldn't be just to speculate on a reality-not to mention that she has gracefully and calmly accepted what no one else can take away: love itself.What she is elegant, calm but unacceptable is: the past dissipates with the wind.Yes, that is the weight of your heart that cannot be dissipated, the complexity of your soul that cannot be reduced, the impasse of language that cannot be told, the altar or avenue of dreams that cannot be forgotten. It doesn't matter what kind of story it is. Once, little T came back from Master U’s house (Little T was the only person in the old house who had been to Master U’s house), and said to us, “Wow, God! I told you that you wouldn’t believe it, but Master U’s house is really exquisite. It’s just old stuff. .” D said: "Is there anything older than Aunt L?" Little T said: "I'm talking about art, calligraphy and painting, porcelain, and the Taishi chair." D said: "It's too wet, how can I sit?" Little T said: "Guess what Master U wears at home? Cheongsam! Oh my god, the satin one is so beautiful! Her hair is tied up like a policeman, and she has a fur waistcoat with embroidered flowers on top of her cheongsam. Oh my god, she is so beautiful." How dare you wear it! There are many flowers growing inside and outside the house... It doesn't matter what Master U's dream is. Uncle B is over seventy years old.He can still do bricklaying and mud, pillars and beams, and houses on the walls.He is experienced in observing the face of the leader and the color of his colleagues.He is confident that he has superior opinions when reviewing the trend and governing the state of affairs. It is nothing more than the fallacy of "women harm the country" and the old tune of "the king's side should be clear". Uncle B was a soldier and fought in battles. He walked through the hail of bullets and miraculously did not leave any injuries.But he was neither the Red Army, nor the Eighth Route Army, nor the People's Liberation Army.He said he fought with "Mr. Mao". "Which Mr. Mao?" "Chairman Mao, what's the matter?" "Hey, Mr. B! Chairman Mao is Chairman Mao, can you call him something else?" "If you don't understand, don't you pretend to understand? 'Mr.' is an honorific title. I admire him and call him that. Back then, we chased Mr. Mao all over the mountain. Good guy, Chen Cheng's commander-in-chief, the man who is crazy about airplanes and cannons, he can be chased after him." Who knows that you are chasing the master? When it comes to war, Mr. Mao is the master. He may not be able to teach you a few tricks, but you will chase him to fight! Death! The master is sir,' Mister' is an honorific title, understand?" "Running all over the mountain? What mountain?" "Jinggangshan? What's the matter, you guys know better than me?" "Where are you, you are the master, no, sir." "Oh whistle, don't dare to act, dare not act." Uncle B smiled with his broken teeth. He was Duan Qirui's soldier, Yan Xishan's soldier, Fu Zuoyi's soldier, and Chen Cheng's soldier. "I didn't understand at that time, didn't you?" Uncle B said, "I wanted to serve as a soldier and eat food, but it's not the same for whom? I don't think guns can cause trouble for you. When the famine comes, go out and serve as a soldier for two days. It can help the family a little money. When the time is good, I will sneak back and plant the land, and my mother is still at home. Sigh, if I knew it earlier, wouldn’t I go to the Red Army?" "You were a soldier, and you also robbed ordinary people?" "For heaven's sake, don't dare. Charge into battle, just kidding around? If you're wicked, you'll come after any gun. It's said that guns don't have eyes, nonsense, but guns have eyes. The official will supervise you and let you Chong, what the hell can you think about? You just have to think about whether there is anything wrong with our conscience. Go ahead. Don't be guilty, it's okay, don't hide, the gun knows where to go. It's all in the movie Nonsense. If you have a guilty conscience and hide from a gun, how can you hide? Boom, a strong man is gone in a blink of an eye. How many times have I been lying around! I have been a soldier several times, and my mother never expected that I would be able to Come back wholeheartedly. I said, mother, you just believe it, people have set their minds straight, and the guns will go around you." "Mr. B, can a gun turn a corner?" "Yes, it will. " You looked at Mr. B in surprise and wanted to laugh. Uncle B looks at you calmly, making you laughable. Uncle B seems to be recalling how a certain gun made a beautiful turn in front of his eyes. "This is what I've believed in my whole life. You may be sorry for you, but you are not allowed to be sorry for him." In the infrastructure team, Uncle B always protects his third son and prevents him from being bullied. In the evening, the third son turned east and west alone, and when he was bored, he went to Father B to sit and sit. The new workshop of the production team was built, and Uncle B moved into the two old houses and served as a guard.A wooden bed, a roll of bedding, a few changes of clothes, the simplest cooking utensils and tableware, and a small radio that never leaves you. Uncle B said, "I will earn these things in my life. Take a look, there is only a water tank that can't be moved by a thief." The third son went to Uncle B's, sometimes drunk. Uncle B said, "Don't drink that stuff, what good stuff?" The third son said, "Don't you drink it too?" Uncle B said, "I won't lose money when I die! You can drink dichlorvos." The third son said Said "I also want to drink dichlorvos." Uncle B called him "Nonsense, you have to survive any day, don't worry about death or life to be worthy!" Calluses, look where the eyes can reach. Uncle B said to others, "Third son, people are not stupid at all, they are just brains. It doesn't work. " It is a remarkable insight that people are not stupid when their brains are not working well.This is likely to involve difficult philosophical or theological questions.For example, you can't calculate the correctness of this extraordinary view, but you can feel its beauty. From the old house to the north, then to the east, passing through a large area of ​​messy and simple dwellings, and then to the north, is the moat.Before the old city expanded on a large scale, the earth embankments on both sides of the river were full of strange willows, lush grass and Tibetans, which was very barren.The river is very narrow, and the water flow is weak and turbid. The small wooden bridge on the river creaks when stepped on. Except for the season of freezing and snowing, there are always people who patiently cast nets into the middle of the river. The pedestrians stopped and watched for a while, smiled, and then went their separate ways. On a summer evening, I rolled my wheelchair across the small bridge and "walked" along the river to see the persistence of the net caster.The river, which had been exposed to the scorching sun all day, was so tired that it barely moved. There were no waves, and the waves seemed to be dead.The leaves of the plants were drooping and they were hot to the touch.The sun set at the end of the river.The dragonfly carefully looks for a place to sleep, takes a good look at a branch, knocks on the door a few times before it lands, and then listens vigilantly for a while, before falling asleep when its wings droop slightly.Cicada screamed continuously.I hope that my lover will come to me at this time-if she goes to the house to miss me, she will think that I am here.Sometimes this hope is realized, and more often it is frustrated, but both the realization and the failure are expected, and both are expected, which does not mean that they are all expected. If after the heavy rain, the water in the river rises several times, the waves come alive, and the waves rise and fall, then it will be more like a real river. At times like this, I even have to go to the river. I feel hopeful and unpredictable as always, but no matter whether I hope or expect, they are as alive as the waves. If you look at the river that is pushed by waves for a long time, you will feel that it is mysterious, and there must be some enlightenment in it. "Like the dead"? Yes, but not always. "You can't step in the same river twice"? Not quite.It seems to be such a question: What is the difference between waves and water? Waves are water, and the water remains after the waves disappear. What is the wave? Waves are the form of water, the information of water, the desire and desire of water Express.When a wave is alive, it is water. When a wave is dead, it is still water. What is water? Water is the basis of waves, the destination of waves, and the infinity and eternity of waves. Those two old houses are a wave, my seven-year wave.I am also a wave. Who knew it would be the decades-long wave of the water of time?How many waves of hope and anticipation are there in this world? At such a time, by such a river, K came to tell me: The third son died. "what happened?" "It's right here in the river." When the rain was heaviest, Sanzi walked into this river; in the lower reaches of the river. "It can't be saved?" K and I sat silently by the river. The river is full of waves and waves.But water is immortal.The water knows the wish of every dead wave - because that is the expression the water wants them to make.It's a pity that the waves don't know the intention of the water, and the waves don't know the endless dreams and arrangements of the water. "You said Sanzi, if he was stupid, how could he die?" No one knows what he thinks.No one even thought: a fool would think, too, the wave of hope and anticipation of the water of life. Maybe only Uncle B knows: third son, people are no more stupid than anyone else, but their brains are different from everyone else's. The twilight dew floating on the river melts into the evening wind, breaks off, and flies away. It is also water.Only by knowing the dream of water, waves, clouds and fog, can we know each other, right? The song in the old house should be such a simple line of lyrics, sung over and over again: no matter whether the waves are alive or dead, they are all dreams of water...