I felt the key to the door on the top edge of the door, pushed it in, and a chill hit, accompanied by a faint musty smell of furniture, like the lonely smell of the room. www.biquge.info It is late autumn, and the temperature in the mountains is already very low, and the place where no people live is even more deserted.

This is my former home, a small two-story building.

I distinctly remember snuggling up on the balcony in my mother's warm arms. He used his father's bookshelf to search for treasures of knowledge with his precocious and curious eyes, such as "The Golden Plum" and "The Beginning of Man".

I also squatted on the ground and listened to my grandfather tell the story of the beautiful hanged ghost in the back mountain seducing the villagers.

Under the old walnut tree at the Fengkou Pass in the back mountain, in the evening, there are often long-haired female ghosts wearing red belly pockets sitting on the red silk and rippling.

The man saw that he involuntarily broke his soul, and ran over to swing with her, and the next day, only the naked corpse of the man was left under the tree, and it was said that he was still smiling obscenely, and he was killed by the cold.

We used to go there to swing and sing "Let's Swing the Sculls" happily, and after listening to this story, we thought to ourselves, it is not a place to swing the sculls, maybe we swing and swing with the female ghost, and the female ghost comes to the bedside to play with herself at night.

For a long time we did not dare to hit the old walnut tree in broad daylight, not only for fear of hanging the ghost, but also for fear that the huge caterpillar on the tree would fall into the neck.

Legend has it that this female ghost was a widow before her death, her husband was killed by the landlord, and she was raped by the landlord and hanged herself under a tree.

My grandfather told me that the landlord in the town was a squire, who often helped the poor, repaired roads, and made merits, and the widow's story was made up by the grandsons.

My grandfather also said that every time the moon is full, the ghosts and monsters in the mountains and fields are resurrected with full blood and wander to the world to absorb yang energy.

Looking out of the window, the wilderness is desperately quiet, there is no sound of car motors in the city, even the chirping of insects seems so literary and artistic, and if you listen carefully, you can hear the sound of the river flowing in the distance.

I bought mosquito coils at the commissary of Chen's gun at the entrance of the town, and after so many years, Chen still looks like a profiteer, this mosquito coil smokes Lao Tzu to the point of smoke, but smokes the mosquitoes so excitedly that they keep diving towards me like a fighter jet.

I think this is his grandmother's human incense or mosquito coil, take a closer look at the brand, the "rush" brand mosquito coil, the "grab" word next to the handle deliberately twisted and pinched, it looks like a "gun" word.

Ouyang Xiu of the Northern Song Dynasty wrote a poem "Mosquito Hatred", saying: "Although there is a small helplessness, it is difficult to prevent poison." ”

Lu Xun also said that fleas are compared with mosquitoes, and mosquitoes are not beaten, because fleas are cool, and they don't make a sound when they suck blood.

The moonlight slanted through the window, like a layer of frost on the ground, and half of the room was bright, reflecting the dappled shadows of the woods outside. I waved my hand to ward off mosquitoes while trying to fall asleep.

In a half-asleep state, there was a knocking sound in my ears, I hoped it was a dream, but when I turned over and got up and listened carefully, it was indeed a knock on the door.

I came downstairs with my sleepy eyes, and the knock on the door stopped abruptly.

I asked, "Who is it?"

No one answered.

Ask again.

Still no one answered.

was thinking about whether to open the door, thinking that it should be Yin Deji's spoof, and wanted to prank him.

I crept to the door, slammed it open, and bumped into a pale human face head-on, and I screamed "oops".

When I looked closely, it was an old man, with a sharp beak and a mustache, his face as white as a lime wall, and a pleated white shirt.

Before I could start, the old man came up and said, "Xiaoyu, why don't you know me?" ”

After looking at him carefully, he remembered that this old man's name was Zhou Hua, and we all called him Uncle Zhou.

Zhou Bo, a native of Dujiangyan, Chengdu, graduated from the Department of Chinese of SC University. When he first entered the university, the normal education procedures were interrupted during the special period, and he was assigned to Qiaobian Town for labor reform, and finally had feelings for the mountains and rivers here.

The police station in Qiaobian Town existed in name only, there were only two people at that time, and the work was quite leisurely, and there were often middle-aged and elderly women who went to the police station to find Zhou Bo to play mahjong, and they were very popular.

In addition to Uncle Zhou, there is also a young man named Wenwu, who is very powerful, and there are only two things that he can't do: this won't be, and that won't. He doesn't even know how to play mahjong, he just sleeps in the house like a pig every day.

Uncle Zhou wandered around when he had nothing to do, often came to my house to eat in the name of borrowing books, and every time he came, he would set up a dragon gate array with my father until midnight.

At that time, I had special energy, and I practiced handstand walking at home, and he liked it very much after watching it, and praised me for my strange bones, and I would become a big thing in the future.

In addition, I like to rummage through my father's bookshelf, and when I was a few years old, I held "Dream of Red Mansions", "Golden Vase Plum" and "Gu Delusion" to read, Zhou Bo said to my father in surprise, ouch, this child is amazing, it is a real treasure jade, so well carved and set into a big vessel.

Father said that the only person in this town who can get the height of his own thinking is this week.

Zhou Bo likes to read "Sherlock Holmes" and "Arsin Robin", he told me how awesome Sherlock Holmes is, all kinds of divine reasoning, the author wrote that Sherlock Holmes was killed later, and the reader was unwilling, and wrote to threaten him to assassinate him if he didn't write Sherlock Holmes alive.

It's a pity that the people of the town are quaint, the road is not forgotten, and there is no case for him to play like Sherlock Holmes, which makes him depressed.

It is not a legend that you don't lock the door when you sleep and don't collect your clothes when it's dark, the neighbors have no city government, and the consolidation of the clan bloodline, the security of the town is too good to be cured.

Until Yin Deji's sister and Wen Yuniang's twin grandson disappeared mysteriously, the myth of the quaint folk customs of the town by the bridge collapsed in an instant.

But the inhabitants prefer to blame their disappearance on mysterious forces of nature, rather than believing that the town hides a perverted demon who likes to imprison and kill children.

After the incident, Uncle Zhou came to my house to chat with my father, and they had a disagreement for the first time.

His father told him to look into it, and he attributed the destruction of the riverbed to anger the river god.

Although I am young, I still understand right and wrong, and I hate Uncle Zhou's dereliction of duty, and even blame him for Yin Ting's disappearance.

He said to me, "You are still young, and you will understand later."

Today he appeared in front of me again, and I didn't expect to be so old.

Out of politeness, I greeted him.

He stared at me strangely for a long time and said, "I really look like your old man, and it's all to cover face." ”

I invited him in.

He waved his hand: "No, I saw the lights on in the house, I felt very strange, it's good that you are back, come over and drink in two days." ”

I politely agreed.

Uncle Zhou stared at me for a long time, said that he wanted to leave, and said mysteriously: "This house is cloudy, and there are locust trees behind the house, so you have to cut down the trees if you want to live forever." ”

According to my grandfather, a few locust trees only grew after the foundation of the house was laid, and we people here call these flowers and plants "crazy trees".

The so-called crazy trees are plants that are not restricted by human factors without reason, where there is soil and an environment suitable for their survival, they will settle down, be free, and live freely.

The climate in the town is humid, the vegetation is lush, and some trees grow out of other people's houses, domineering and leaking, but the master is unhappy and can only be cut down. It's fate.

My grandfather said, where is the crazy wood, the craziest people in the world, how can the wood be crazy, so he decided not to cut down the locust tree behind the house and let it grow.

Years later, I still reminisce about the concept of Crazy Wood, which is like the "native" of the virtual world in the sci-fi film "Gen War", not the product of a programmer's design, but something native.

Just as there are always fish and shrimp in a pool of water, and plants always grow in a pile of fertile soil, free life is never restricted.

The simplified Chinese character "tree" can be split into "wood" and "right", in my opinion, wood is right no matter where it grows, don't cut it down, otherwise it will violate the laws of nature. As for ghosts, they only reside in people's hearts, and those who are sincere are afraid of what demons and monsters.

I answered Uncle Zhou in my mouth, but in my heart I thought that this old man looked really old and confused, and he went to the Chinese department of a famous university in vain, and he didn't know where he had read all the books he read.

Back upstairs, listening to the sound of autumn outside the window, I couldn't sleep.

When I came back from BJ, in addition to bringing back some necessities, the most I brought with me was books, two large boxes. I was reluctant to throw away books, and this bookish habit was inherited from my father and has not changed.

I picked up a random book and opened it, it was about ancient Chinese philosophy, talking about yin and yang.

The ancients believed that everything in the world is balanced, and that there must be yang and yin. If yin occupies a greater proportion of something than yang, then we call it yin and yang imbalance, and yin is too heavy.

Men are yang, women are yin; Yang during the day and yin at night; The heavens belong to the yang, and the earth belongs to the yin; Mountains are yang, and water is yin. Every month of the year, every moment is divided into yin and yang.

After the three children disappeared that year, a Taoist priest who pretended to be a ghost said that there was a yin qi in the town and asked him how to drive away this yin qi, and he shook his head and said nothing.

I thought that Uncle Zhou said that this house was full of yin and qi, which was nothing more than the word "locust" in the locust tree containing "ghost", which led to reverie.

Although ancient Chinese philosophy has its own system and context, it lacks empirical research on the world, and Chinese philosophers do not have both physical and mathematical knowledge like Western philosophers.

Our ancestors were obsessed with the study of "people", and although Confucianism has the saying of "learning from things", it originated from the Book of Rites? The "Gewu" of the University is actually linked to the utilitarian context of "self-cultivation, family harmony, governing the country, and leveling the world".

When the ancient Greek philosopher Mocritus discovered that objects are composed of many tiny particles, the Chinese philosophers of the same period had to stay in the study of yin and yang and could not extricate themselves, or they ran naked in the house, "taking heaven and earth as the building, and the house as the robe", which was called "leisurely travel".

Anyway, I couldn't sleep, so I simply went to the balcony to watch the moonlight pouring on everything. I was inexplicably moved in my heart, how many years I have not seen this natural richness, and in BJ all these years, I have forgotten the smell of trees and grass.

The town is backed by mountains and rivers, and has its own feng shui. The mountain is called Bailian Mountain, and the Yi people call it Amu Mountain. Eminem means mother, and the Yi people understand the dialectical relationship between nature and human beings more purely.

The river is called Yihe, and in the Yi language, Yiyi means water.

The Han and Yi people live here together, and the folk customs are simple. The small buildings on both sides of the street stand with their bellies tucked in, with different shapes and colors, and some exotic styles.

Before ten o'clock, the streets were closed, and the street lamps were rattled by the cold wind, as if singing a terrifying song, which made people feel cold.

Mountains and trees are sleeping, and through the snow-white moonlight, you can see the ridgeline in the distance, outlining the boundary between heaven and earth. Except for the occasional barking of a dog or two, the deserted streets were silent.

This time, I will write the story that has been in my heart for a long time, about youth and that large and messy city. Only here do I write heavy rather than floating.

I needed to escape the impetuosity of the world and write about my life and soul, so I chose to leave BJ, the city of lust and desire with thin emotions.

There, I had to hunt like a man for survival, like a wanderer without roots and without support. Coming back here, stepping on solid ground, I found my roots, vivid and concrete.

The town used to be thriving, but now it is a little lonely, linked to its own situation, when I had so many warm memories with my family and playmates, but the world has changed, and my childhood has passed away.

Now, returning to the town alone, although Yin Deji is with me temporarily, it seems that an irreparable gap has been carved by the years.

In order to establish a seamless emotional connection with memories, I think I need to abandon my impetuousness, calm down, and explore the old houses and jungles here, looking for the gods and elves in my childhood stories, and resurrecting them to inspire long-lost inspiration and nostalgia. Demons and monsters will also be resurrected.