If you were there, you would see two children standing in the middle of the crowd, one blushing and the other with their heads bowed, each with a complicated mind. Pen Fun Pavilion wWw. ｂiquge。 ｉｎfo

After a long time, I heard a small response in the midst of the noise: "Maybe." ”

When I was in my twenties, my father came back from the hospital with my mother and little sister. At that time, many people came to visit the door, and as long as you stretched out your hand, her infant sister would use her little hand to hold your fingers tightly.

They praised her for being very cute, and she must have been better than me when she grew up, and my mother listened, glanced at me lightly, and turned her head away.

The father named his sister Shuang, hugged her every day and smiled, but the mother was still haunted by the fact that she gave birth to a girl.

On the day of the Chinese New Year's Eve, my father went out very early, not knowing what to do, and only said that he would come back after a while. My mother locked the door from the inside and said that she wanted to rest and that she needed to be quiet, so she left me in the courtyard and told me to paint quietly.

Winter in the south is also a mild gesture, with occasional sunlight spilling through the clouds and falling on the body like a feather.

The whole day passed long, and in the evening, my father had not yet returned, and in the evening when the sun left, the temperature dropped suddenly, and my fingers were a little stiff, but I didn't dare to knock on the door, for fear of disturbing her quietness, and getting a crisp slap. The lights in Jingxi's house came on, and a golden halo was spread on the stone steps.

Jingxi came over and pulled me in, the old man smiled and brought me a plate of red crabs and told me to sit down and eat together, I hesitated, and finally sat down. While peeling the crab shell, the old man said that this is the result of Jingxi's busy afternoon, so I don't have to be polite. I looked at Jing Hee, who carefully hid the traces of the crab on his hand into his sleeve, and I couldn't help but laugh out loud.

I watched the Spring Festival Gala at Jingxi's house, and the small TV was full of laughter and singing.

It wasn't until the crackling of firecrackers outside, the fireworks lit up the night sky, and countless brilliant fireworks bloomed, and the whole town boiled over, and I knew that the old year ended in the remnants of the fireworks, and was replaced by the new century that bloomed with the fireworks.

I dragged Jingxi to the river, and there were already many people around there to put up river lanterns, and there were many paper lanterns floating in the water, swaying with the ripples on the water, like many small fishing boats swaying with lights.

The fireworks in the sky reflected the light in the water, sandwiched by the silhouette of the golden lights in the water waves, crushed by the ripples. In my memory, it was also Chinese New Year's Eve one year, and my grandmother made a river lantern for me. Using a cardboard box that I picked up from nowhere, I cut out the shape of a lotus flower along the pencil line I had drawn, and then lit a small piece of candle and dripped wax oil to fix it inside.

I wrote the vision in crooked font on the half-torn homework paper, folded it several times, stuffed it into the river lamp, ran to the river with it, and put it in the water. My grandmother and I stood on the shore and watched the prayers stagger away with the current.

I rejoiced, and followed the river lantern along the bank, until it was soaked in water at the bend of the creek and sank, and the last glimmer of light faded.

I went back with red eyes and told my grandmother that our river lamp had drowned in the cold water, and my grandmother touched my head and said that there was a river under the water that would see our prayer and fulfill it.

Jingxi and I lay on the bridge until the fireworks were thin, the river lights were far away, and the crowd dispersed, and we didn't go back.

Back at home, my father and mother were tired in front of the TV, and Frost slept peacefully by the bed, silent in another world, as if there was no me. I don't know when it started, it became sad and the world was hazy.

Smoked sausages, air-dried bacon, and salted river fish hung under the eaves, which was probably the only good impression I had of the Chinese New Year at home at that time. In addition to these, there was only my mother's cold gaze and my father's heavy and helpless sigh, or Frost's cry without warning, no matter how you look at it, I feel that there is something between me and them.

I don't know when a cat came to the yard, white and gray, but since no one bathed it, the white fur on its body also turned gray.

Usually there is no sign of this cat, but as long as the sun comes out, it does not know where to come out, runs to the middle of the yard and lies down, stretches its limbs very straight, squints, and looks very enjoyed.

The time I started hating it was one morning. The mother got up and found that the pickled fish under the eaves was gone, and on the roof she saw the cat licking the remaining half of the tail with great joy. My mother, who had no basis for this, concluded that I was responsible, yelled at me, and when I reached out and put my ear over it, she slapped my hand down and yelled even louder.

At this time, Frost, who was sleeping in the house, woke up and began to cry. My mother pulled my hair hard and went back to the house to soothe my sister. I looked at the cat on the roof, and tears fell, but it still ate and enjoyed it, and the anger in my heart burned.

Finally, on a sunny day after a rainy day, I pressed it into a waterlogged pit in front of the house under the pretext of bathing it.

Later, it crawled out of the puddle on its own, soaking wet, and its rain-soaked hair clinged to its body messily, making it even thinner. It shook off the cold rain on its body, sneezed, and fled in a hurry when it saw me coming again.

The next day, when it saw me from afar, it fled quickly; On the third day, I didn't see it; On the fourth day, Jingxi said that the cat was dead, and he took it out of a hidden corner near the corner of the wall with debris, and wanted to take it out of the yard to throw it away, and I looked at it, and its shriveled body seemed to have not dried up the rain that day.

I followed Jingxi out, behind him, keeping a short distance.

He buried the cat in the land behind the town that was once full of bright yellow rape flowers, and piled up small mounds of earth, his expression as serious as if he were performing some kind of ancient sacrificial ritual.

In the bare fields, as far as the eye can see, there are only messy but tough wild grasses, and new and old, large and small graves, burying every firework-like life.

I found my grandmother's sleeping place, where the petals had melted into the dirt and could no longer be found.

The withered grass climbed on the stele and gasped, I peeled it off, peeled off the dust of time precipitated on the stele, and my fingers stroked the inscriptions, as if I had touched the roughness and vicissitudes of those distant years.

At the beginning of the new year, a small opera troupe came to the town, and in a teahouse by the river, they sang two plays every day. (To be continued.) )