Huang Cripple remembered the past and felt that his nose was sour.

Somehow, he felt that this oil lamp was too similar to the lamp that the eldest lady was sewing clothes on. He silently thought to himself that no matter what, he would not let this lamp go out.

He searched inside and out, and there were a few bottles and cans in the room, but they were dirty, and there was no spare lamp oil at all.

He turned to the outhouse, where there was a large urn with half an urn of water, and it looked like it could still be drunk. He looked up and saw a tattered linen cloth in the corner, bulging inside, as if something was on it.

Hey, looks like there's clutter down there!

The yellow cripple staggered over, he lifted the sackcloth, and then he was disappointed again. Under the linen cloth is a mess of chopping wood, and in the chopping wood is a modern beauty wall calendar.

- How old was this? Are all these old antiques?

Huang Cripple picked up the painting and looked at it, she was still a beauty in a swimsuit, but the painting was just a painting, and she couldn't speak. If he wanted to be able to speak, he would have to talk to this girl.

He picked up the calendar—it was a terrible thing to throw in this place! He took the painting into the back room and nailed it to the wall next to the hay.

How can a beautiful woman be thrown in the firewood and look at the beauty before going to bed in order to have a spring dream!

He looked at the paintings, and the more he looked at them, the more he liked them. The beautiful woman on the painting also looked at him with affection, with a smile on her lips.

At this moment, the flame of the oil lamp in the back room shook suddenly, and the light in the room suddenly dimmed a lot, and it seemed that it was really running out of oil.

But in the blink of an eye, a thought suddenly popped into the yellow cripple's mind.

Huang Cripple suddenly thought that there was actually oil in this dilapidated house, although he didn't know whether the oil could be used.

Many things are always far away and close at hand, only you dare not think about it, and you can't think of it.

The oil he thought of was actually in the stinking iron pot in the outhouse. The pot was supposed to be boiling broth, but now the broth had cooled and rotted, but he clearly remembered that the broth seemed to have a layer of white grease floating on it.

Can animal oil give the lamp a new lease of life? He didn't know it himself, but he thought he could try it.

The yellow cripple picked up another extinguished lamp on the wooden table, and he wanted to use it as a container, and he went to the pile of firewood again, and picked up a thin piece of wood.

He looked at the iron pot, remembering the smell of spicy eyes just now, and couldn't help but hesitate.

The yellow cripple tore off some strips of linen and slammed them into his nostrils. The linen cloth was rough, grinding his nose for a while, and the coarse fibers irritated the nasal mucosa, making him want to sneeze a few times.

He cheered himself up, walked briskly to the pot, lifted the lid at once, and then crouched beside it, holding his breath, scraping little by little the milky ointment that had condensed on it.

The ointment looked like a thin layer, but it was scraped up a lot, and in a short time, the yellow cripple scraped all over the lamp. He stood up, thinking that the pot of broth must be useless and inedible, so he went back to the back room and found two plastic bags from under the wooden table.

He walked out, poured all the rotten meat from the pot into a plastic bag, and then tied the bag tightly and threw the bag of stinky stuff into the bag.

He carefully brushed the iron pot with the water in the urn - he felt that he had never been so diligent, so diligent that he actually helped a poor man he never knew clean up the house and clean the house.

When the yellow cripple had done all this, he returned to the back room, where he carefully refilled the ointment into the burning lamp little by little with pieces of wood.

The twists of the lamps crackled, and the flames crackled. The yellow cripple was frightened, and there seemed to be a lot of impurities in those ointments, which might not be suitable for use as fuel at all.

But after a burst of intense burning, the flame finally calmed down, and it continued to sway quietly for years.

The white ointment in the lamp slowly melted, and finally turned into a pool of clear lamp oil.

The yellow cripple picked up a hay stick, and he flicked the lamp, and the flame suddenly grew stronger, and the whole inner room suddenly lit up.

Looking at the quietly burning flames, the yellow cripple couldn't help but laugh.

He seemed to have forgotten the more pressing questions of where he was, why he was here, and how to get back. He yawned and took a few steps back, then lay down in the haystack at once.

The smell of hay was so good that he closed his eyes and fell asleep in the haze.

He had a dream, in which the eldest lady wore reading glasses, leaned hard under the oil lamp, and sewed his clothes stitch by stitch.

When the yellow cripple woke up, he found that he was lying on the bed in the dormitory of Niangniang Temple again, and there was no trace of the dry pyre, the big iron pot, and the broken house.

The energy-saving lamps on the roof glowed white and bright, and the dim oil lamps were nowhere to be seen.

I don't know why, the yellow cripple is still a little sad, after all, the oil lamp still carries his nostalgia for his eldest mother.

There was a slight pain in my temples, as if something was pounding in my veins. Huang Cripple rubbed his temples and sat up, he suddenly remembered one thing - since he was a child, his life seems to have never been such a big lady!

There can't be this person!

Not only does he not have an eldest mother, he has no brothers and sisters at all, and he has not even seen his parents!

Fifty years of life suddenly seemed like a marquee, and scenes floated in the mind of the yellow lame man - he was an abandoned baby, and I heard that when his grandmother picked him up and went home, he had a high fever, and his lips were burned out of the bubbles.

At that time, some people also persuaded the grandmother, saying that the child could not be saved.

But my grandmother said, I am a lonely old man, I have no children in my life, I tried my best to save his life, he is my own grandson, maybe he can also support me in old age.

Grandma carried him to the health center, the family had no money, grandma almost sold out pots and pans, and finally saved him, but one leg was lame.

When I was a child, my grandmother kept everything delicious for herself. Although she is blind, she still has to send the yellow cripple to school to read and write.

It's a pity that good people don't live long, and before the yellow lame man grows up to support himself, grandma has an accident.

Huang Cripple grew up slowly with his grandmother, because his family was poor, he drank some gruel and ate some wild vegetables all day long, and he grew yellow and thin. Grandma was distressed when she saw his weak appearance, but at that time, she couldn't eat enough grain, and it was even more difficult to eat eggs and meat.

In order to supplement the nutrition of the yellow lame, the grandmother ran to the Huaichuan River, picked up wild duck eggs, white bone top eggs and other things in the grass kiln, and came back to cook them for the lame man to eat.

But when he was seven years old, the Huaichuan River was swollen and the bank was slippery, and his grandmother went to pick up eggs, and accidentally slipped into the turbulent water, never resurfacing.