Two

Our tractor was like the distant Oroqen tribe, running on the vast snowfield for two days and two nights. When we opened the map and were convinced that the tractor tracks were already crushed on the ice of the snow-covered "ghost swamp", it was the dawn of the wasteland.

It's not as terrifying as the legend suggests, maybe it's hibernating, and the snow covers its hideous true face. What did we see? It was as if the world's largest lake was frozen in front of our eyes, "covered with wasteland"—so flat that we settlers couldn't believe it, reaching far into the horizon.

"Where are you, come out!" one of our companions shouted.

The "Demon King" did not appear.

Blacksmith Wang Zhigang suddenly pointed not far away: "Look!" - a round wooden stake split from the middle was driven into the ground and stood there at an angle.

We all walked over curiously. The deputy instructor brushed the snow off the wooden stake: we saw a wooden tablet, the handwriting carved by the knife was eroded by the wind and rain on the rough and flattened surface of the axe, and we could only vaguely recognize the three crooked words "died in this ......".

I'm sure each of us gasped like I did at the time.

"There, there's another!" my sister spotted the same hoodoo again, and she was the first to retreat towards the tractor.

The assistant instructor whispered, "Let's go, don't disturb their rest." ”

......

If someone asks me, "What is the hardest thing you feel in the Great Northern Wilderness?"

My answer was, "Reclamation." ”

In search of the ideal location for a forest with a water source, we traveled almost all over the "covered wilderness". We found a small river that was not marked on the map, and it was the only clean source of water on the "Covered Wasteland", which we named "The Wanderer". Before we found it, it wandered around the wasteland like a vagabond for an unknown number of years, and now we have pitched a tent around it.

When the snow melted, when the "Wanderer" sang "The Song of Raz", our shining ploughshare split into the chest of the "Covered Wasteland". Who would have experienced the joy of a tractor turning over the first ridge of virgin land unless it had been a reclaimer? There were so many wolves in this wasteland, and in broad daylight they followed behind our tractors in great form, preying on the fat marmots that had been turned out by the plowshares. At night, they howled around our tents. The hardships of entrepreneurship have turned every young man in the reclamation team into a saint. The assistant instructor and my sister shared a tent with us. A blanket separates their small world, and behind the blanket is the sacrosanct "Notre Dame de Paris".

Late one night, I woke up from my sleep by chance, but I didn't hear the roar of a tractor turning over the floor. I jumped up at once, didn't have time to think about it, and only wore shorts, I broke into "Notre Dame Cathedral" and poked the assistant instructor out of the bed.

"What are you going to do?!"

"The tractor is not ringing!'Moor', turning over the ground!"

"Ahh

The tractor does not sound, which means that something happened to the "Moor". Just as everyone was about to run out of their tents, the "Moors" came in from outside. Under the horse's light, we saw a wolf on his back, with both hands on the wolf's front paws, and his head on the wolf's neck, and the wolf's mouth was wide open, and his hind legs were grasped by his waist.

The "Moor" shouted, "Hurry up! it's alive!"

We each of us, and we beat the wolf to death on his back, such a big white-haired old wolf!

The "Moor" sat down on the floor at once, and gasped for a long time, before he said: "The wire rope that tied the plough is broken, and I came back to change the wire rope, and this thing followed me, and unexpectedly put two front paws on my shoulders...... "His face and hands were covered with blood, and his cotton clothes were torn to pieces. He twisted his eyebrows and took off his cotton clothes, and the velvet clothes and flesh inside were scratched by the wolf's hind paws!

The assistant instructor ordered my sister: "Quick, bring the medicine kit!"

At this time, we found out that she was only wearing a shirt and pants, and she was barefoot. She also realized something, and seemed overwhelmed by our gaze. Immediately, she calmed down and said calmly: "What are you staring at me for?

One by one, everyone obediently got into the bed, but I didn't. I held the lantern on the head of the "Moor".

The assistant instructor gave me a tender look, and without saying a word, immediately took the medical kit from my sister's hand and carefully bandaged the wound for the "Moor......

My sister was the "Minister of the Interior" for the reclamation team, cooking and doing laundry for us. The frozen vegetables brought from the company have been eaten, and not a single kind of wild vegetables have grown from the wasteland. In order to make us eat a little more satisfied, she gave full play to the creativity of the remaining two bags of flour: steamed buns, fat cakes, flower rolls, and pancakes, and sweet, salty, sweet and salty, steamed and then baked......

If I joined the reclamation team because of my assistant instructor, my sister came to the "Mangai Wasteland" because of me, and I am her only relative. I go to the corner of the earth, and she will follow me to the corner of the earth. I had treated her so harshly, but she still wanted shelter and protection for me psychologically. On the surface, I was still cold to her, but emotionally I had already forgiven her completely.

Only those who have sinned deeply in themselves will not forgive others.

Besides, she is my sister, the only sister!

It is my duty to protect her. After or before that shameful incident, did I fulfill my responsibilities as an older brother to her? No! On the first day of the Great Northern Wilderness, when we passed by the deer farm, she was fascinated by the deer herd, and she begged me to stay with her. It was perfectly fine as long as I wanted to, but I didn't stay with her. Why? I don't want to be in a company with my sister. I think she's too squeamish and headstrong, and being in the same company will cause me endless trouble. I shirked the responsibility of an older brother for the sake of self-purification, and after she became the object of severe condemnation by public opinion and morality, my first thought was that she had ruined my reputation. Therefore I hate her and refuse to give her any mercy or sympathy......

During the countless sleepless nights on the "Covered Wasteland", I had a deep introspection in my heart, and I realized my true colors. I repent of what a selfish brother I am, what a despicable and despicable person!

One day, when it was just me and my sister in the tent, I called out to her, "Little sister!" and she was kneading dough on the board when she heard me call her and immediately looked up. She looked at me in a daze, her face extremely excited, and her dark eyes were filled with tears. "Little sister, are you still angry with me?" I walked over to her gently. Tears, big tears, slowly trickled out of her dark eyes, down her pale cheeks onto the board, and were kneaded into the dough by her hands. "Little sister......" my voice choked. She turned around and threw herself on top of me, her floured hands around my neck, her head in my arms, and she began to cry aloud. Tears welled up in my eyes. It took a long time for her to stop crying. The first thing she asked me was, "Is my mother's illness cured?" My heart felt like a stab! Oh, mother! If you hear this sentence from your sister under the Nine Springs, you will definitely burst into tears! I hope you don't hear this, I hope you don't feel sad for your children anymore, but how much I wish you could hear this! My sister loves you more than I do! I don't have the courage to tell my little sister that my mother is no longer alive! Her fragile emotions and fragile heart cannot withstand a heavy blow. I replied to my little sister in a low voice: "Mom is not sick, Mom misses us too much, I told her that we are all fine, and she is relieved." A smile hung on the corner of my sister's mouth, a bitter smile, the first smile in a few days, if that miserable expression could be regarded as a smile. "Tell me, who is that man, I'm going to teach him a lesson!" the sister shook her head resolutely. "You...... Love him?" the sister nodded speechlessly. "What about him?...... Does he love you too?" the sister nodded again. I looked at my sister. There was an angelic holiness on her face, a reflection of her heart. I was at a loss. My sister suddenly asked affirmatively, "Brother, do you love her?" "Who?" "What nonsense are you listening to?" I can see it, she ...... I like you too!" "Really?" I gripped my sister's arms tightly with both hands. "Really. "No, I know she's a 'Moor'!" "She just trusts him, and I trust him, and he's a trustworthy person, and any girl would trust someone like him." But what she likes is you! She said you're a poet, a Shelley-type lad. She said that she liked Shelley and did not like Byron, although they were both genius poets, and she also said that Byron could only judge the beauty and ugliness of a woman's appearance, while Shelley could peek into the good and evil in a woman's heart. She also knows that you love her......" The sister suddenly stopped.

Almost at the same time, we noticed the assistant instructor standing in the tent door in a daze, apparently overhearing my sister's conversation. "Oh, I haven't taken back my clothes hanging by the river!" I made an excuse to escape from my tent and run blindly across the wilderness, and I felt that "Covered Wasteland" was the most beautiful place in the world.

That day, after dinner, we gathered around the tent and told stories, which became the only way for us to live spiritually. We tell all kinds of stories: gods, ghosts, absurdities, horrors, humor...... Each of us, including the deputy instructor, has shaken off all kinds of shackles in the company and truly become people who "stand up to the sky" on the "covered wasteland."

The assistant instructor told a story from the Greek myth "Odyssey": after the great Odysseus attacked the city of Troy, he led his warriors from the sea to his hometown Ithac, only to be blown to an island by a headwind. The inhabitants of the island live exclusively by eating a kind of "forgetting worries". They enthusiastically donated the "fruit of forgetfulness" to Odysseus and his warriors. The warriors ate the "fruit of forgetting", completely forgot their hometown and parents, forgot their brothers and sisters and wives, forgot all their friends, and stayed on the island for a long time without worry......

I was amazed to find that she was a better storyteller than all of us, and she didn't tell the story, she just told the story. But the emotion that flows from that tone can touch the depths of people's hearts.

When she finished, we all fell into deep thought. Only my sister sighed and said to herself, "I really want to get many, many of those 'forget worries' ......"

The deputy instructor, again sitting with the "Moor", rested his head on his shoulder like that. The light of the fire in the big iron stove reflected her face so red. The firelight flickered, and her beautiful face flickered and dimmed, revealing an illusory longing and a faint melancholy.

I couldn't help but feel sympathy for her. If it weren't for the vows she made three years ago that bound her, she would have gone home to visit her family. She must have missed her parents and relatives more than any of us do.

I opened the folder and said, "Don't move!'Moor, I'll paint you a portrait!'" and my intention was to paint a portrait of her. Because at this moment, she is so beautiful and moving, but I don't have the courage to say it frankly. The "Moorish" apparently mistakenly thought that my words were a public mockery of him, and that was what he could not tolerate. So, when the assistant instructor subconsciously took his head off his shoulder, he grabbed her hand, stared at me coldly, and said, "Don't move! The assistant instructor obediently rested his head on his shoulder, smiled slightly, and looked at me as well.

I didn't say anything more and started drawing seriously. I looked at her, drew a stroke, and thought to myself, I must draw very similarly. I've never drawn so well, really!

"Didn't draw well!" I handed the clip to the assistant instructor.

Everyone gathered around to admire and exclaim, "It's like!"

"Hey, I don't see if you still have a trick! When are you going to draw one for me?"

"Hey, you drew myself!" the assistant instructor glanced at the Moor.

"The tip of my pen is broken. "I blushed slightly.

The assistant instructor took the portrait and looked at it for a moment, then asked, "Give it to me?" "Give it to you!" I stared at her boldly. She lowered her eyelids and said, "I'll keep it carefully." At this time, the "Moor" stood up and quietly came out of the tent. From that day on, he became even more reticent...... However, everything can be transferred except love. I will pursue it persistently and never abandon her love. Never......