Seeing that Xuan Po didn't speak, Daoist Gui deliberately asked, "That Master Ma doesn't want to help you, right?" ”

"How do you know?" Xuan Po asked him.

"Hehe, it must be that the Yaksha ghost already knew that he was the master ghost hunter in this place, and told him in advance not to meddle in this matter. He is timid and does not dare to go against the will of the Yaksha, so he will not agree to you. Rosewood said.

"How do you know? Is it counted again? Xuan Po rubbed his wrist and asked, he couldn't wait to go to the northwest corner of the house to dig up the white snake three feet under the soil.

Noble Daoist smiled, "No matter what you think, now we are the only ones who can deal with the Yaksha ghosts. ”

"Let me think again." Xuan Po said absent-mindedly. At this time, he only had the white snake in his head, and the rest was the wind in his ears, and he couldn't listen to it.

Xuan Po didn't want to say more to the Taoist priest, so she opened the door and returned to the house, and hurriedly looked for a hoe everywhere. Seeing him like this, the Rose Taoist had no choice but to raise the chain in his hand and drive the red-haired ghost back to the original home of the mountain father.

After finding the hoe and carrying a large jar of liquor, Xuanpo came to the northwest corner of the house and began to dig. He was still skeptical of the words of the Rosewood priest.

When I dug two feet deep, I found a thumb-sized hole in the ground, not like a snake hole. He had dug the hole in two, because he hadn't found the snake hole outside, so he couldn't tell which end was the entrance and which was the exit. He had an idea, and poured wine into both holes with a funnel, and saw which hole had the wine flowing back, and which hole was the exit; The other one that does not return is of course the entrance.

More than ten years ago, rats were very rampant in the countryside, and when people slept at night, they often heard rats running around on the roof of the tile, beam, and bed. People often try their best to deal with these pesky rats. For example, when I was only four or five years old and slept with my parents, every time I heard the rustling of mice before going to bed, my father would lie on the bed and learn how to meow as a cat, and then learn how to meow a mouse. Of course, when learning to bark, the cat should bark with momentum to intimidate the mouse hiding in the corner, and when learning to bark, the mouse should bark miserably, as if one of their companions had been caught by the cat in front of them, and its companion was wailing in pain under the cat's paws.

It's fun to think about now, but it's really effective against these rats.

Another way is to water the holes found in the ground, as the Electora did. But not with wine, but with boiling water. At that time, there was rat poison sold by the vendors, but in order to save money, someone invented this method of earthenware. Once you've found the rat hole, pour freshly boiled water into the rat hole. Naturally, the rats hiding in the holes have no way to escape.

The method of choosing a woman is similar to this method of pouring boiling water, except that the method of choosing a woman is to get drunk with the white snake, not to burn it. I poured half of the jar of wine, and then I saw that the hole began to overflow with wine, and it seemed that the hole was already full of wine.

Xuan Po clapped her hands and sat down, lit a cigarette and smoked it, and touched the snake when she was already drunk, so she picked up the hoe again and continued to dig.

At this time, Xuan Po dug carefully, for fear of accidentally hoeing the white snake that had not yet met into two pieces. The smell of earth mixed with the smell of wine wafted into Xuanpo's nose.

At this time, my grandfather was still digging ditches in the paddy fields, but in fact, the current season is not far from harvesting, and it is insignificant whether the ditches should be widened. Grandpa looked at the back of Xuanpo who was far away, sighed very unpleasantly, and reached into his pocket with a trembling rope, but did not take out anything.

It turned out that he had forgotten to carry two packs of cigarettes with him. If it was normal, Grandpa always had to carry a pack of cigarettes on his body to work in the fields with peace of mind. Even when harvesting rice with a sickle in his hand, the grandfather would have to hold a cigarette in his mouth, but he would not light it, for fear that the ash would fall on the rice stalk that had been cut down and cause a fire. But when he sat on the ridge and rested for a while, he hurriedly lit the distorted cigarette in his mouth.

Grandpa dropped the hoe that was digging the ditch, patted his butt and sat on the ridge, picked a weed and put it horizontally in front of his nose, and pressed the upper lip and nose of his mouth against it, as if he usually wanted to "quit smoking". Grandpa put his hands behind his head and lay on the narrow ridge like this, looking at the blue sky and white clouds above his head.

Every time my grandfather took me to work in the fields, I would lie on the ridge and look at the sky, and occasionally I would talk to my grandfather without a word. The slightly damp mountain breeze blew across my face, and the floating white clouds changed endlessly in front of my eyes.

I still miss that time, carefree. At that time, I didn't have to worry about anything, I didn't have to think about anything, I could do whatever I wanted, no matter what I did right or wrong, I was praised by my teachers and parents when I did it right, and I was happy; If you do something wrong, you will be whipped by the teacher and blamed by your mother. Even if I was scolded, it didn't stop me from happily doing what I wanted to do the next day.

And now, there are always things that can't be done, and there are always many problems to consider, for fear of doing something wrong, although there is no more face-to-face blame from teachers and parents. The road ahead did not wait for my footsteps to pass, but ran towards me, forcing me to hurriedly raise my feet and walk, flustered.

At that time, I enjoyed the mountain breeze by my grandfather's paddy fields, the clear blue sky and pure white clouds overhead. Now when I occasionally go back to my grandfather's house, even if I lie down on the edge of the original field, my mood is different, the wind is no longer the original wind, and the clouds are no longer the original clouds. Grandpa is no longer the original grandfather. Only the cigarette in his hand was still burning without any change, haunting all kinds of memories of my childhood. The smoke got into my eyes, and my eye sockets were moist, and I don't know if it was because the quality of the smoke was not as good as before, or if it was something else.

I don't know if my grandfather, when he is working in the paddy fields now, will think of his nephew at that time, the nephew who stared at the clouds in the sky for a whole morning with leisure and curiosity. When he thinks of me, he will also be filled with emotion and burst into tears. That sticky ridge, will you remember that there was once a boy snuggled in its arms, cocking the naughty Erlang's legs.

...