Chapter 7 little john five

Have you wandered in the woods on a sunny autumn day?When the sun is so still and bright, shining on the dyed leaves, when the branches are rustling and the dead leaves tremble at your feet. Then the wood looks weary,—it is only able to meditate, and live in old memories.A blue mist surrounds it, like a dream full of mysterious splendor.There is also the shining autumn silk floating lazily in the air, like a beautiful, quiet dream. Just on the wet ground between the berry moss and the dead leaves, strange shapes of fungi suddenly and vaguely shoot out.Many were fat, shapeless and fleshy, and otherwise long and slender, with hoop handles and brightly dyed caps.This is the strange dream of the woods.

Then on the rotten tree, there are also countless small white stems, all with small black tips, as if they had been burnt.A few smart people thought it was a kind of fragrant fungus.John learns a better one: That is a candle.They burned in the quiet autumn night, and the little ghost heads sat beside them, reading small little books. It was an extremely still autumn day, Xuan'er had taught him, and John was still drinking Mengxing, which contained the fumigation rising from the woodland. "Why do the oak leaves have such black spots?" "That's right, it's also done by the brats," Xuan'er said. "If they write in the night, they sprinkle what's left of their little inkwells on the leaves. They can't bear the tree. Men make crosses and bell-handles out of live oak wood."

John felt a novelty about these small and hardworking little devils, and he asked Xuan'er to let him see one of them. He had been with Xuan'er for a long time, and he was so happy in his new life that he rarely regretted his vow to forget all the old things.He is not lonely for a moment, and he will often regret it when he is lonely.Xuan'er never leaves him, and follows him everywhere in the village.He hangs quietly on the water in the swaying nest of the reed finch among the green reeds, though the reed finch crows too, or the crow hoarse in retaliation.He is not afraid in the heavy rain or the howling wind, he hides in an empty tree or a hare's hole, or he hides under Xuan'er's little cloak, and if he tells fairy tales, he still listens to him the sound of.

So he was about to see the little ghost head. This is the right day.Too quiet, too quiet.John seemed to have heard their whispers and footsteps, but it was still noon.The birds are gone, all gone, only the sparrows are still greedy for the crimson berries.One fell into a snare and was caught, hanging there with its wings outstretched, and struggling until the tightly gripped claws were almost torn.John immediately went to release it, chirping happily, and it flew away quickly. The fungi are all in lively conversation with each other. "Look at me," said a fat ghost. "Have you ever seen such? See how fat and white my handle is, and how bright my cap is. I am the biggest of them all. And in one night."

"Hmph!" said the red flycatcher, "you're stupid. So? Color and rough. And I'm swinging on my slender stalk like a reed. I'm gorgeous red as a raspberry, and beautiful Added. I'm more beautiful than anything." "Shut up!" said John, who had known them for a long time. "You are both poisonous." "It's ethics," Flytrap said. "Maybe you're a human?" the fat man sneered, "Then I would have liked it a long time ago, you eat me!" John really didn't eat it.He took a dead branch and stuck it into the fleshy hat.It was hilarious to see, and all the rest laughed.There is also a group of weak bacteria, with?The small colored head was drilled out together in about two hours, and it went straight out to observe the world.The ghost fungus turned blue because of anger.This also shows that it is a species with degrees.

Earthstars stretched out their round, swollen heads on four-pointed footstools.Sometimes it is sprayed with the very fine dust from the mouth on the small round head to form a flower?colored small clouds.When the dust falls on the wet ground, there will be lines of black soil, and hundreds of new earth stars will be born in the next year. "What a beautiful existence!" they said to each other. "Flying dust is the highest purpose of life. As long as you live, you can raise dust as long as you live, what a blessing it is!" So with confident yearning they drove the little cloud of dust into the air.

"Are they right, Xuan'er?" "Why not? Where can they be higher? They don't ask much for happiness, because otherwise they can't." When the night was deep and the shadows of the trees flew into the uniform darkness, the tremors of the forest full of secrets did not stop.Among the grass and bushes, there are twigs rustling and rattling everywhere, and small withered leaves rustle.John felt the inaudible fluttering of wings, and knew that something indiscernible was near.But now he could hear distinct voices whispering and feet hopping.Behold, in the dark depths of the jungle, there is a tiny blue spark shining and disappearing.Another grain over there, and another grain!be still! ... If he listened carefully, he heard a rustling in the leaves, very close to him--near the dark trunk.The little blue light rose from behind it and stopped on the tip.

Now John saw fires shining everywhere; they floated among the dark branches, and blew to the ground in small hops, and large flickering heaps, like a cheerful fire, glowed among the stars. "What kind of fire is this?" asked John. "It burned brilliantly." "It's a rotten tree trunk," Xuan'er said. They walked toward a still, bright little light. "Then I'm going to introduce you to Jiang Zhi 1. He is the oldest and the smartest among the little ghost heads." As John approached, he saw him sitting next to his little light.In the blue reflection, one can clearly distinguish the gray beard on the wrinkled face; he is frowning and reciting aloud.On his little head was a little queer hat with a little feather in it,—and in front of him sat a cross-spider and listened to him.

When the two of them approached, the little ghost raised his eyebrows to look, but he didn't look up from his little book.The cross spider crawled away. "Good evening," said the little devil, "I am Jiang Zhi. Who are you two?" "My name is John. I should like to make your acquaintance. What are you reading there?" "It doesn't fit your ears," Jiang Zhi said, "it's only for that cross spider." "Show me too, for the lover will know," pleaded John. "I can't. This is the holy book of spiders, which I keep for them, and shall never pass into the hands of another. I have sacred papers, the beetle's and the butterfly's, the hedgehog's, the woodchuck's." and all that has life here. They can't read them all, and if they want to know something, I read to them. It's a great honor to me, a position of trust, you understand?"

The little man nodded sincerely several times, and wanted to raise his index finger to a higher place. "What did you do just now?" "Tell the story of the scribble. It is the great hero among the cross spiders, who lived a long time ago, and had a web, stretched on three big trees, and there he caught twelve hundred a day. Flies. Before the days of Doodles, spiders did not spin webs, but lived on grass and dead animals alone; Doodles had a clear mind, and pointed out that living animals are also for the immediate At that time, doodles and complicated calculations created a very exquisite web, because it is a great mathematician. So the cross spider made its web, and the lines intersected, just as it said The same as taught, only much smaller. For the species of spiders are also very variegated. Scribbles have caught large birds in its webs, and killed thousands of its own children, - which has It was a big spider! At last a strong wind came and dragged Scribble and its web with the three trees tightly knotted through the air to a distant wood, where it Worshiped forever, for its fierce heart and its cunning."

"Is this all true?" John asked. "That's in this book," Jiang Zhi said. "Do you believe this?" The little ghost closed one eye and put his index finger on his nose. "In the holy books of other animals, the scribbled one is also spoken of, and it is called a fierce and vile monster. I don't agree with it." "But there is also a local book, will you know?" Jiang Zhi looked at John with slight suspicion. "What the hell are you, John? You're kind of—kind of human, I might say." "No, no! Don't worry, you will know," Xuan'er said, "We are demons. Although John used to communicate among humans, you can trust him. This will not hurt him." "Yes, yes! That is very well, but I am the wisest of the earth, and I have studied long and diligently, until I know all that I know now. By my wisdom, I will Care must be taken. If I speak too much, it will damage my reputation." "In what book do you think the correct things are recorded?" "I've read a lot, but I don't believe I've read these books. Nasu is not a fairy book, nor is it a terrestrial book. But such books should exist." "Is that a human book?" "Then I don't know, but I don't really believe it, because the real book should be able to bring great happiness and great peace—on it, it should be recorded in detail why everything is like this, like the status quo. Then No one can ask or hope any more. Humanity is not there yet, I believe." "Ah, really," Xuan'er said with a smile. "But is there such a book?" asked John eagerly. "Yes, yes!" said the little devil in a low voice, "Then I know—from ancient, ancient legends. Be still! I also know that it is there, and who can find it." "Ah, I will know! I will know!" "Why haven't you?" Xuan'er asked. "Just be patient—it's coming. I don't know the conditions yet. But soon I'll find it. I've worked all my life for it and I've sought it. For when I find it, life will be like autumn Day, blue sky above and blue mist all around; but no leaves rustle, no twigs chatter, no drops of water drip; the shadows shall never change, the golden light of the tree-tops shall never fade. Whoever has read this book, whatever appears to us will be darkness, and whatever appears to us to be happy will be sorrow. Yes, I know it all, and I will seek it once in a while." The mountain ghost raised his eyebrows high and put his fingers on his mouth. "I know, maybe you can teach me." John suggested, but before he finished speaking, he felt a sudden rush of violent wind, and saw a big and black figure moving quickly and silently in front of him. Came over. When he looked back, he saw how a small foot disappeared into the tree trunk, puff!The little devil even jumped into his hole with the book.The little light burned gradually weakened, and suddenly disappeared.That is a very peculiar candle. "What's that?" John asked, holding the spinner tightly in the dark. "An owl," said Xuan'er. Both were silent for a while.John then asked, "Do you believe what the general said?" "General knowledge is not as smart as he thinks he is. He will never find such a book, and neither will you." "But there are, right?" "The book exists as your shadow exists, John. No matter how you run, how much you look around to grab it, you can never catch it or get it back. And you feel at last that you are looking for yourself Well. Don't be an idiot, and forget about that troll's nonsense! I'd tell you a hundred better stories. Come with me, let's go to the woods and see how our good father rises from sleep On the grass, uncover the white, soft cloak. Come together!" John walked, but he didn't understand Xuan'er's words, and he didn't follow his advice.As soon as he saw the bright autumn morning at dawn, he thought about the book, on which was written why everything was the way it was, as it was—and he repeated in a low voice: "I will know! I will know! " -------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------ 1.Wistik, German translation of Wusstich, means "I will know".