Chapter 170 Chapter Eight: Wine Filling the Snake Cave

Taoist Gui saw that Mrs. Xuan didn't speak, so he deliberately asked, "Master Ma doesn't want to help you, does he?" "How do you know?" Xuan Po asked him. "Hehe, it must be that Yasha ghost already knew that he is the master ghost catcher in this place, and he told him in advance not to interfere in this matter. He is timid and dare not go against Yasha ghost's wishes, so he does not agree to you." Gui Taoist priest Say. "How do you know? Did you figure it out again?" Xuan Po rubbed her wrists and asked, he couldn't wait to go to the northwest corner of the house to dig the three-foot-deep white snake.

Taoist Gui said with a smile: "No matter what you think, now we are the only ones to deal with Yasha ghost." "Let me think about it again." Xuan Po said absently.At this moment, he only had the white snake in his head, and he couldn't hear anything else. Xuan Po didn't want to talk more to Taoist Gui, so she opened the door and went back to the house, looking for a hoe in a hurry.Taoist Gui saw that he had nothing to do, so he swung the chain in his hand and drove the red-haired ghost back to Shan Dae's original home. After finding the hoe and carrying a large can of liquor, the election woman came to the northwest corner of the house and started digging.He was still skeptical about Taoist Gui's words.

When I dug to a depth of two feet, I found a thumb-sized hole, not like a snake hole.He dug the hole in two, because he hadn't found the snake hole outside beforehand, so he couldn't tell which was the entrance and which was the exit.With an idea, he used a funnel to attract wine and poured wine into both holes to see which hole the wine flowed back from, and which hole was the exit; the other hole that did not flow back was of course the entrance. More than ten years ago, in the countryside, rats were very rampant. When people were sleeping at night, they often heard rats running around on the tiles, beams, and beds.People often try every means to deal with these nasty mice.For example, when I was only four or five years old and slept with my parents, every time I heard a mouse rustle before going to bed, my father would lie on the bed and imitate the meowing of a cat, meowing a few times and then meowing like a mouse.Of course, when imitating cat meowing, it should be meowing with power to scare the mice hiding in the corner, and when imitating mice, it should be meowing miserably, as if one of their companions has been caught by the cat in front, and its companions are cats. Claws groaning in pain.

It's fun to think about now, but it's really effective against these rats. Another way is to water the found burrows like a woman selection.But instead of wine, boiled water is used.At that time, although there were rat poison sold by hawkers, in order to save money, someone invented this simple method.After finding the mouse hole, pour the freshly boiled water into the mouse hole.The mouse hiding in the hole naturally has no way to escape. The method of choosing a wife is similar to this method of pouring boiling water, except that the purpose of choosing a wife is to get the white snake drunk, not to scald it to death.A can of wine was half-empty before seeing wine overflowing from the opening of the hole. It seemed that the hole was already full of wine.

The lady-in-law clapped her hands and sat down, lit a cigarette and smoked it. After feeling the snake was drunk, she picked up the hoe again and continued digging. At this time, Xuan Po was digging carefully, for fear of accidentally hoeing the unseen white snake into two pieces.The earthy smell mixed with the smell of wine floated into the nose of the selection woman. At this time, my grandfather was still digging ditches in the paddy fields. In fact, the harvest season is not far away now, and it doesn't matter whether the ditches should be widened or not.Grandpa looked at the back of the woman going away, and sighed in a very uncomfortable way. He fumbled and reached into his pocket, but he didn't take out anything.

It turned out that he forgot to carry two packs of cigarettes with him.If it is normal, grandpa always has a pack of cigarettes on his body so that he can go to work in the field with peace of mind.Even when harvesting rice with a sickle in hand, Grandpa still had a cigarette in his mouth, but he did not light it, because he was afraid that the ash would fall on the felled rice stalks and cause a fire.But when he was sitting on the ridge for a short rest, he hurriedly lit the deformed cigarette in his mouth. Grandpa dropped the ditch-digging hoe, patted his buttocks and sat down on the ridge of the field. He picked a weed and placed it horizontally in front of his nose, and pressed it against his upper lip and nose, as if he was about to "quit smoking".Grandpa put his hands behind his head and lay on the narrow field ridge like this, looking at the blue sky and white clouds above his head.

Every time my grandpa took me to work in the fields, I would just lie on the ridge and look at the sky, occasionally talking to my grandpa without saying a word.The slightly damp mountain wind blows across my face, and the floating white clouds change endlessly in front of my eyes. Now I still miss that time, carefree.At that time, I didn’t have to worry about anything, I didn’t have to think about anything, I could do whatever I wanted, no matter what I did right or wrong, I was very happy to be praised by my teachers and parents if I did something right; Mom's blame.Even if I get scolded, it doesn't prevent me from happily doing what I want to do the next day.

But now, there are always endless things to do, and there are always many problems to consider, for fear of doing something wrong, although there is no face-to-face reprimand from teachers and parents.The road ahead was not waiting for my footsteps to pass, but ran towards me, forcing me to walk quickly, flustered. When I was free at that time, I enjoyed the mountain breeze beside my grandfather's paddy field, the clear blue sky and pure white clouds above my head.Now I occasionally go back to my grandfather's house, even if I lie down by the original field, my mood is different. The wind is no longer the same as before, and the clouds are no longer the same as before.Grandpa is no longer the old grandfather.Only the cigarette in his hand is still burning without any change, haunting all kinds of memories of my childhood.The smoke entered my eyes, and the eye sockets became moist. I don't know if the quality of the smoke is not as good as before, or other reasons.

I don't know, when grandpa is working in the paddy field now, will he think of his nephew at that time, the nephew who stared at the clouds in the sky leisurely and curiously for the whole morning.When he thinks of me, will he also be filled with emotion and cry.That sticky ridge, will you remember that there was once a boy who snuggled in its arms and raised his naughty Erlang legs.