The mood of flying without food and clothing is different from flying with nothing, and lying in a high-end business class is not the same as squeezing into a crowded economy class.

The loneliness of the mood is indescribable, without the noise of Chiqi by her side, you will feel unaccustomed.

The smell of all kinds of sour sweat and cheap perfume on the people next to me mixed with the stench of excretory gases made me feel suffocated all the time.

The flight of more than ten hours is like a prison sentence of more than ten hours, and getting off the plane has a feeling of being released from prison. The plane turned to the train, the train turned to the bus, the bus got off and sat on the motorcycle, and I drove the mountain road all night before I arrived at Anfu Village, and the loss is that I was born fluent in Chinese, and I explained the destination to various drivers, and they could understand it, but when they spoke the dialect, I couldn't understand it.

Anfu Village is located deep in the mountains and is an ethnic minority village.

At the entrance of the village are hundreds of steps with a white marble statue standing on the steps. The statue is a Chinese man with glasses, with a deep face, holding a book in his hand very casually, and the name of the book is also clearly carved "Twin Earth". The statue is a single marble sculpture, which has some age but is not damaged. The base is different, dilapidated, and the marble patches carved with words are scattered, only to see, "famous, phantom, home, Li, real name, Yu, 1990--," these words.

"The famous writer Peter Li, whose real name is Li Yu, 1990--" I guessed that the lost text was read out. It seems that this Chinese in my body really has some relationship with this place, and the village actually carved a statue for him!

"Oh my mother!" There was a heavy ** sound behind me, and I turned to look, and there was a chubby middle-aged woman sitting at the bottom of the stairs of one or twenty steps, and there was a big plastic bag next to her.

"Are you alright?"

I asked instinctively as I descended the steps.

"Roar! You foreigner can still speak Chinese! It's okay, it's okay! The body is too fat, and I can't carry it for fifty pounds! ”

The fat woman pointed to the pocket beside her, her eyes flashing, as if she wanted me to help her.

"Gotcha! I'll help you carry it! ”

I was happy to help others, so I simply lifted my pocket and helped her carry it.

"You outsiders are good people! See? The writer of the statue even helped my grandmother and me carry our pockets back then! I was a little girl at the time, and I was as tall as the base of the statue! ”

The fat woman said happily, without the weight of her pockets, she simply took a few steps up the steps in front of me, pointed to the statue and said.

I struggled to carry the fifty-pound bag up the steps, and when I saw that she suddenly became lively, I said angrily, "Help your grandmother carry a bag, and set up a statue for him!" ”

"That's not it! I'll tell you! This writer eats ghosts! ”

The fat woman retorted.

"Ghost eater? What the hell are you eating? Are there ghosts in the world? ”

Carrying my pocket up the dozen or so steps, I sat panting and slumped next to the statue.

"Really! Listen to me slowly! ”

The fat woman sat on that pocket, but she fell comfortably, knocked Erlang's leg and said, "When I was young, there were ghosts chasing people in the mountains. The people in the village didn't dare to say that it was a ghost, so they said 'old fairy'. ”

"Ghosts? Playing tricks? ”

She said so mysteriously, I was also interested and asked.

"Yes! Yes! We are all called old immortals. There was an uncle who was sleeping under a tree, and he dreamed of an old man with a white beard who said to take him to play, and when he woke up, he found himself sleeping on the tree like a monkey. ”

The fat woman continued, and what she said was divine.

"Sleeping under a tree and waking up to find yourself in a tree?"

I conclude with a rhetorical question.

"Yes! Yes! It's nothing! And what's more! At that time, the village chief walked down the mountain from the mountainside, and after walking for a long time, he reached the top of the mountain. He went down the mountain again and again, and each time he returned to the top of the mountain! It was ten days later when others found him, but he said he had only been gone for four or five hours! ”

The more she talked, the more mysterious it became.

"And then? What does it have to do with that Peter Lee? ”

I can't wait to ask.

"Later, when Peter Lee came, he ate the old fairy in his stomach. What I saw with my own eyes, just one bite! Swallow it in one bite! Since then, the old fairy has never come out to play tricks on the villagers! ”

She said in high spirits that Peter Li ate the old fairy into her stomach.

"It's really strange that the ghost-eating writer is really strange!" I sighed, the connection between this Peter Li and me is indescribable, under his influence I was born to know Chinese, born to know Chinese martial arts, and even some fragments of his memories, I will also dream about some of his past life, but there is no memory of him once eating ghosts.

"Fat aunt! You're talking nonsense again! What a ghost, that's feudal superstition! ”

A middle-aged man in his forties, speaking with a bit of an official accent, walked up to us and said to the fat woman in a stern tone.

"Tao Zhishu! Don't be unconvinced! I saw it with my own eyes! ”

The fat woman was still not convinced.

"What did you see with your own eyes? How old were you when the great writer wished us this? I was six years old, you weren't as old as me, were you? ”

This cadre surnamed Tao was wrestling with the fat woman.

"Gotcha! You're big! You're big! You're a big official! The official level crushed people to death! ”

The fat woman got up, grabbed her pockets and walked away.

"It's rare to have international friends in the village, hello, I'm the village party secretary here!"

The middle-aged man took out a red box of cigarettes called "Zhonghua" from his pocket, took one and handed it to me.

I took the cigarette and stared at the cigarette case in his hand, and the familiar feeling came back to me.

"This? Our famous cigarette in China! Great China, good things, more than 100 years of history! ”

Seeing me staring at the cigarette box, the middle-aged man proudly introduced the brand of cigarettes.

I took the cigarette and he lit it for me.

"Great writer, ghost eater, you guys are a little interesting!"

I pulled back the topic and continued to get straight to the point and ask about Peter Lee.

"You listen to the fat aunt's nonsense! What the hell are you eating? Where the hell did it come from! This great writer is the father of my elementary school classmates, and I know their situation very well! ”

He lit himself a cigarette and said.

"Your classmate's father?"

Hearing him say that he was the father of his classmate, I remembered the little boy who was scolded in my dream.

"Yes! He brought my classmates here when I started my first grade, and he wasn't very famous when he first arrived. I lived there for two or three years, and then I went back to the big city when I became famous. I used to go to his house a lot, and he helped me make up for my lessons! Give me a lot of toys to play with! I still remember him stopping me at the door as soon as school ended, 'Tao Yousheng! Did Li Mingjie fight again today? Li Mingjie is his son's name. ”

He replied proudly, learning from the way the writer spoke to him when he was a child.

"Then what kind of villagers sleep under the tree and go to the tree, the village chief goes down the mountain to the top of the mountain, the writer eats ghosts, what's going on with these things?"

I then asked about the things that the fat woman said just now, and although the village chief said that she was talking nonsense, there was no wind and no waves, and there would always be some reasonable connection.

"Those are you! We're at 30 degrees north latitude here, so there's nothing strange about it! There was such a big writer living in the village, and the villagers naturally believed in it and made a blind connection! ”

He replied with a smoke ring.

"30 degrees north latitude?"

Listening to what he said about 30 degrees north latitude, what Bermuda Triangle, what the pyramids are messed up with unsolved mysteries came to my mind, it seems that the 30 degrees north latitude of Earth B is the same as the 30 degrees north latitude of Earth A where I live, and there are unsolved mysteries everywhere.

"That's right! We're just 30 degrees, impartial, no more, no less. This is where great writers become famous for writing novels! Maybe it's also guided by some mysterious power! ”

He was even more proud.

"Good, good! Mysterious power, the more you talk about it, the more mysterious it becomes! I smiled wryly, "It's better to say something reliable!" You just said that the writer's son and you are classmates, are you still in touch now? ”

"Li Mingjie? Not! Now he is the president of a large company, so he won't come to our small mountain village! But if you want to find him, it's easy to find, Mingjie Group in Beijing, just go directly! ”

He replied, finished his cigarette, and turned away.