The iron nails on the wooden wheels were already covered with rust, and the wheels were turned round and round on the potholed dirt road, and the axles should be oiled, squeaking, squeaking, squeaking, squeaking,

A sheep lay on the mottled board, and it was nearly evening at three o'clock in the afternoon, and the afterglow of the setting sun was reflected in the dusty wool.

The sheep had long since lost its breath, its head half-hung at the edge of the board, and it was jolted and jolted with the creaking of the wheels.

The flesh of the back of the sheep's head is blurred, and the semi-coagulated blood clots stick to the wool.

The sheep's eyes were still open, their pupils dilated, and the whites of their cloudy eyes were bloodshot, completely lifeless.

The middle-aged man stopped, the squeaking stopped abruptly, he put down the handrail of the cart, bent down slightly, gently pushed open the simple wooden fence gate, pushed the cart into the small courtyard, turned around and closed the courtyard door.

The door opened, and a chubby woman came out, taking off her apron, and saying, "Dad, why did this sheep come back again?" ”

The man didn't raise his head, walked straight into the firewood room, and took out a basin with blood stains:

"The station only collects the live sheep that are killed, and the cook collects it privately, but the dead sheep are only given four yuan and five pounds. I said that I had just killed, and the sheep's body was still warm, and the dog's day insisted that it was sunburned. ”

"They are the only ones in this vicinity who collect sheep, and I am afraid that they will sit on the ground and raise the price." The woman said as she hung her apron on a simple clothes pole.

The man did not respond, took out the knife from the belt, and began to peel the sheep, the movements of his hands skillful and neat.

"Abba, my sugar mile?" Accompanied by the cheerful children's voice, a doll about ten years old ran out of the house.

"Abba has a hand, oh, in the belt, take it yourself." The man responded, without the slightest pause in the work in his hands:

"Zhuowa, are you beating sheep with sticks?"

"No, Abba." The child took out the candy and put it in his mouth, puffing out his cheeks and saying.

"That good sheep, can you chase you like crazy?" The man asked.

The woman took a towel and wiped the child's face:

"Okay, okay, the doll is small, let's dig it, kill it, I'll skewer some mutton skewers after dinner, and I'll bake it tomorrow and sell it on the station." As he spoke, he reached out and took the child's arm:

"Come to Zhuowa, Abba kills the sheep and let's go into the house, and tomorrow Grandma will make you mutton patties to eat."

The man stopped talking, and continued to keep his head down and get busy with the work at hand.

"Grandma, I really don't," the child muttered, and was led into the house by the woman.

Within a radius of 60 kilometers, there are only 20 or 30 such families, and the food security on weekdays is to plant some beans, melons, and a season of corn, and the harvest is enough for the family to eat, and there will be a surplus if the harvest is good. The source of income is the cattle and sheep raised, which are sold to the railway station five kilometers away for some money.

The train station is small, a supply point, and two trains pass by every day, and the station is responsible for preparing lunch boxes in advance and serving them to the food cars on the train.

The man began to divide the mutton, silently planning in his heart:

"Shave the ribs and roast them; cut out these two tenderloins to make mutton patties for Zhuowa; The haggis will be washed and boiled for a while, and after it is dried, it will make haggis soup; The sheepskin will be stained for a while and let it air dry; The sheep's tail will be kept for a while to boil some oil, and the sheep's head will be eaten tomorrow, and the rest will be brought into the house, and then skewered and the rest will be skewered to make mutton jerky..."

After the distribution, he took a firewood knife, went into the firewood room and took out some thin branches, and put them at the door, waiting for them to be polished into meat skewers.

When everything was ready, the man walked out into the courtyard, stooped and crunched a few times, and a little rusty water poured out of the polished iron pipe.

This kind of water press, which has long been obsolete, is a must-have and the only water intake tool for nearby retail households.

The man quickly reached out, rinsed his hands, and took out a small piece of soap from the soapbox on the ground, which was so dirty that he couldn't see the color, and scrubbed his hands covered in blood and calluses.

I put down the soap, pressed the lever of the water pipe a few more times, the water that came out was very clear, rinsed my hands, rubbed my wet hands on my pants twice, and walked into the house.

During the day, the sun is abundant, and people are warm, but at night there is a cold wind.

The old-fashioned lantern in the house emitted a dim glow, casting the shadow of the family on the window.

Although the plastic sheeting outside the window was blown by the wind, it could not hide the cheerful laughter of the children in the house.