Little South Lake Villa.

Miao Er stopped in front of a villa with the house number nine.

"It's here, get off." Miao Er unbuckled her seat belt, and Zhu Rong and Zhang Bo got out of the car.

Miao Er pushed open the red pine paint gate and led Zhu Rong and Zhang Bo into the courtyard. The yard is not very large, only two or three hundred square meters, there is a locust tree near the south wall of the yard, the body of the tree is very thick, the head of the tree is very large, the branches are stretched out of the wall with snow, and the snow is like a winter locust flower. In front of the corridor near the building, a row of bamboos stands tall, and there is a square lawn in the courtyard, with a square frame embedded in bricks, and outside the lawn is a blue brick path, and there is a roadside. It seems that the owner is very good at using space.

"Grandma, I'm Miao'er, please come out to meet me!" Miao Er shouted loudly in the courtyard.

"This Miao'er, as soon as I go home, I will not be happy, ouch." As the door opened, an old man walked out as he spoke. Her hair is silver-white, her face is thin, her eyes are a little sunken, and her eyebrows are sharp, and she is in her seventies, and her hair is neither long nor short. The waist remains the same, and the back is not hunched.

"Grandma, I came back today to bring guests, this is one of them." Miao Er tilted her head, rolled her eyes, and looked at her grandmother as she spoke.

"The second thing is not very important, but the guest I brought has a painting in his hand, called "Reclining Buddha", which is still a work from decades ago." Miao Er ran to her grandmother: "Its author, very famous, her name is Miao Qing." ”

"What about that painting, people, shouldn't it be a lie to grandma! "Grandma's name is Miao Qing, and she seems to have remembered something.

Zhang Bo took the painting from Bai Rong's hand, walked up to Miao Qing, and handed the painting over. Open it. looked at Miao Qing intently.

"This painting, more than 40 years, I was twenty-four or five years old. This picture was painted at the Buddha Mountain. There are very beautiful acacia incense, there are clear mountain springs, there are pure Buddha wind and many stories. I miss the season when the acacia flowers are fragrant. Miao Qing looked at the painting, her eyes were teeting, and she was very excited.

"Grandma, who was this painting given to at that time?" Miao Er asked guidedly.

"At that time, there was a little boy, very smart, very innocent, named Xiaobo, and he was only a teenager at that time." Miao Qing smiled, very happily, her teeth had not fallen out yet, like a young man's.

"Grandma, if this little Bo comes, do you still know him?" Miao Er looked back and smiled at Zhang Bo.

"It's been decades, and I can't recognize it, but his voice is very sweet, with a natural sound, even if there is a change, you can hear it." Miao Qing said with confidence.

"Sister painter, do you still know me?" Zhang Bo couldn't restrain the joy and excitement in his heart, and couldn't wait to step forward and hold Miao Qing's somewhat cold hand with both hands. These hands used to be slender jade fingers, the old man in front of him, thinking that he used to be a locust flower-like style, but now he is white-haired, with a capital in spring and autumn.

"You..." Miao Qing was stunned, what kind of voice is this, déjà vu, although it is childish, it has not changed naturally, as if it came from the distant Wofo Mountain, with the sweetness of sweet potatoes, into the firmament of the spleen and stomach.

"Sister painter, I am Xiaobo back then, the weak and thin child." Zhang Bo shook Miao Qing's hand lightly, trying to hear her pertinent voice and recall the beautiful page of the year.

"I'm in a dream! At that time, Xiaobo was still there, my amiable and lovely younger brother, in that special and extraordinary years, my sister often dreamed of returning to Wofoshan, next to the drinking horse spring, where Wu Zixu once sit, and his younger brother faced the sunset together. Miao Qing burst into tears, as if she was the only one relative in her life.

"Sister, you can't be wrong. At that time, you didn't go back, I often went to look for you, but when you were gone, I always stared at the red sunset, as if you would come out of the sunset, wearing a string of acacia flowers, holding a sketchboard easel, and describing the world of life there. Zhang Bo's feelings for many years have been exposed, in front of this old sister, in this dream of reunion, like a lover, pour out his feelings and thoughts. It's like a child finding a mother who hasn't seen her for many years, opening her heart to flow, years, in this not very big world, there is such a sweet story.

Miao Er was stunned, what kind of old man is this, the young and the old look at the old, and stare at each other for a long time, what kind of relationship is this, it can't be found in the many passwords of family, friendship, and love, it was the wind of Wofo Mountain back then, right, obediently.

Zhu Rong was also shocked by this scene, they have no relatives, it is definitely not love, although their age is special, it is by no means the love of mother and son, maybe it is the song of that era, the spirituality of the reclining Buddha Qingshan, will deliberately give them a bitter and sweet thoughts, innocent, white, acacia flowers, in this cold winter, still open in the heart, she is jealous, she is moved, she is wronged, infected, magnetized, and she cried silently, fell to the ground, fell in her heart. Alas, what fell to the ground seeped in, and what fell in her heart flowed..., she was bitter for Zhang Bo, she cried for Zhang Bo, Zhang Bo's was like a red ribbon, her heart was tied at one end, and the other was fluttering, driving her heart. Amitabha blessed us, these... We.

"Grandma, it's too cold in the yard, let's go back to the room," Miao Er really regretted letting her old friends reunite and making her world narrow.

"Let's go, go up to the studio on the second floor, and look at the acacia flowers." She held Zhang Bo's hand, just like a mother leading her son. They walked into the villa complex.

From the second floor to the second floor of the studio, Zhang Bo and Zhu Rong were stunned, a long scroll of historical life unfolded, a long scroll of narrative poetry hung on the wall of the studio, a whole picture of Wo Fo Mountain, and the life scenes up and down the mountain shocked people's hearts. At sunset, there are men bathing in Ximen Fish Pond, and the fish pond is surrounded by acacia flowers. On the stage in front of the Daxiong Treasure Palace, Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai are worshipping each other, the people watching the play are clapping their hands and cheering, the people who kneel in the Reclining Buddha Hall to burn incense and make vows, and there are many men and women who are pregnant with spring standing next to them. Under the corridor of Kuixinglou, there are men with factories and waving to see, followed by the acacia flowers of the acacia that stretches all the way, there are children chasing butterflies, there are porters who carry the burden on the road, there are big women with long braids, there are good women with big bellies, there are stalls to sell food stalls, there are monks who carry materials and water, the wheat fields under the mountain are fragrant, the red flags are displayed, in the village, the mother chases the children who escape, at the crossroads, the captain who shouts with a sickle, and the cow who pulls the trailer. The young driver drives the tractor, the water in the river in front of the village is flowing, the women washing clothes are having a water fight...

"My sister is a stroke of genius. Zhang Bo couldn't help but say: "Like a prose, like a lyrical poem, like a song of mountains and flowing water, it has spread thousands of miles on the earth, marking the brand of that era."

"Grandpa Zhang, you're stupid. Let me tell you, my grandmother held an art exhibition in Shanghai, and there was a foreigner who loved collecting, and he didn't sell it for 10 million US dollars, saying that he kept it for others to see. Miao Er was mischievous.

"It's a national treasure, and even the layman can see it." Zhang Bo said from the bottom of his heart.

"You should understand that poetry and painting are the same, not to mention that your novels are full of poetry. Miao Er said and laughed, she was proud of her grandmother, proud of her grandmother.

"It's a rare work, and today it's finally an eye-opener.

"Miao'er, what did you call me just now? Zhang Bo looked at Miao Er and glared at her.

"Call you Grandpa Zhang." Zhu Rong said with a smile.

"For what?" Zhang Bo was very unhappy.

Miao Er came over and bowed on Zhang Bo's head and said, "You think, you call my grandma her sister, so I call you grandpa!" "It's Miao'er who is naughty and arrogant.

"It's none of your business, my sister is the one who should be." Miao Qing looked at her granddaughter and smiled.

"Grandma, your name is Miao Qing, my name is Miao Er, we should be sisters, and Dr. Zhang should call me sister, so this matter can be settled." Miao Er has to inch in and be proud to the end.

"What kind of logic is this?" Zhu Rong smiled, laughing weakly.

"This is, I'm sorry to leave you out in the cold." Miao Qing was very apologetic.

"Grandma, let me introduce you, this is Dr. Zhang's lover, but he is not married yet, which means that I still have a chance." Miao Er is half-true and half-true, very funny.

"Poor mouth, I didn't study well," Miao Qing snorted at Miao Er, who ran over and hugged her intimacy, and said, "Let's go, go downstairs to eat." ”

In the restaurant, everyone sat down, and Miao Qing sat in the old position at the top. Miao shouted next door: "Du, Mama, serve the food." ”

The door opened, a very neat, wearing an apron of the middle-aged woman pushed the dining cart in, the dishes on the dining cart were very rich and were put on the table one by one by Du Ma, a few dishes were added by Du Ma temporarily, although the host did not say, but through the enthusiasm of the host, I knew that I was going to stay today.

"Teacher Zhu took up his post there." Miao Qingla asked as if she were homely. "Go to the village school, this village, teach." Zhu Rong smiled, she arranged the wine utensils and placed chopsticks.

"Xiaobo, tell me about you." Miao Qing really wanted to know about Zhang Bo's situation.

"Okay, you two are a good match, culture, education and health are not separated." Miao Qing smiled, very happy, happy that her younger brother had such a wife.

"The Nakamura clinic is also in your picture." Zhang Bo speaks like art.

"Talking, everybody drinking, family." Miao Qing said: "Why don't Miao Er drink it." ”

"Grandma, I'm quitting drinking." Miao Er said seriously.

"Come, let's drink." The three of them raised their glasses, tasting Miao Qing's remy horse, and the old man was very enthusiastic: "Come, eat vegetables." ”

People taste saltwater chicken.

"Xiaobo, what are your hobbies?" Miao Qing asked.

"I usually write novels, essays, poems, etc." Zhang Bo said.

"Did you express it?" The old man had a good mouth, and a piece of chicken was quickly chewed into his stomach. "No, only some medical ones were published." Zhang Bo said.

"A soldier who doesn't want to be a general is not a good soldier. I'm over 70 years old now, and I'm still busy for art, for beauty, and for life. Miao Qing said.

"My sister is right." Zhang Bo recognized his sister. "Is there a new work recently? Miao Qing asked Zhang Bo.

"Yes. Absolutely. Miao Er said, "Look, grandma, I stole a poem from your brother." ”

"What kind of poem, read it aloud." Miao Qing couldn't wait.

"Acacia flowers, the milky white fragrance of a tree / Elephant, the festival flowers, blooming in the air / The ingenious brush / Display, the beauty and auspiciousness of human beings / One hand, two petals, dancing like a butterfly / Revealing the core stamen; I'm never afraid of bees / Oh, painter girl, pick a bunch and hang it on your head / Creamy yellow heart drunk / Like a boat floating on the water / . ”

"Stop, this is written by Xiaobo? "Miao Qing is shocked?, what a poem!

"Grandma, you smell this piece of paper, the ink stains are still fragrant!" Miao Er brought the manuscript paper to her grandmother.

"Acacia flowers, ceremonial flowers, all on my head, incense in my heart, I painted locust flowers, and acacia flowers are like me, write well, write well." Miao Qing was full of praise.

"Grandma, there is a better one to come: how many years have passed/In the farmer's rice cage, and into the cornmeal, than fragrant/Memory, become a string of chaste stories/The purple sunset, on the hearth of cooking, shines/Its love story, from eternity to eternity, illuminates, the girl's face/."

Miao Qing put down her chopsticks and said: "In the past years, I have also eaten a nest made of cornmeal and acacia flowers.