Chapter 192: Spring and Autumn in the Fingers

"Stupid!" Grandma scolded grandpa quite self-righteously, "Why don't you ask a few children to help you draw?" Is it troublesome for one person to draw so many of the same things? ”

Grandma looked at the countless yellow runes on her grandfather's desk, and her fingers were stained with a lot of ink that had not been dried. Grandma was startled when she just broke into the room. On the windows, on the tables, on the stools, on the beds, there were long yellow notes. Long strips of paper crawl with long, thin, curved black earthworms. Grandma rubbed her eyes vigorously, only to realize that the black earthworms turned out to be undried ink. Grandpa's mouth was also dyed a horrible black.

"You don't know which direction I have to face when I write these spells, what I have to think in my heart, what I have to say in my mouth, I am very particular. Can you call some children to fool around? Grandpa replied, the brush in his hand still not stopped.

"I don't think there's any difference." Grandma looked down at the charms one by one, and although she couldn't understand them, she couldn't help but be curious, carefully looking for the differences between the various inkblots.

"You touch that one." Grandpa pointed to the charm in the corner of the bed, and said with a smug face.

Grandma listened to him, and casually touched the same charm at the head of the bed. As soon as her hand touched the spell, she jumped up like a spring on the soles of her feet.

"Oops, oops, is there a leak? I'm numb! Yue Yun, you go and check the wires, it is estimated that the house is too damp and there is electricity leakage in the house! Grandma pinched the fingers of the other hand with one hand and shouted in horror.

"Don't you talk in your dreams during the day?" Grandpa laughed and said, quite childish like pranks. "No matter how much electricity there is, you can't have electricity in the bed, and the wires don't go through there."

"So, you mean these charms have electricity in their own right?" Grandma asked, holding out her green nails in surprise. Grandma had to go out every day to cut pigweed, and her nails kept their natural green color all year round. There are endless threads of grass in the nails that can be picked up with embroidery needles all year round, as if that place was originally a fertile land, a nurturing ground for grass silk. When I was young, sometimes my grandmother was tired from work, so she called me over to help her pick the grass silk, using a very fine embroidery needle, and with great care.

In different seasons, the grass threads in grandma's nails are also different. The spring grass juice is abundant, and the green color always stains my fingers, so that I dream at night that grass grows in my nails, and it swells uncomfortably between my nails and flesh. Sometimes I wonder if the spring land is also so swollen, because there are so many grasses that have to stretch out of the ground and thrive. In autumn, the grass began to dry up, and my grandmother's nails were full of yellow twisted yellow filaments. It turns out that people's small fingernails can also hide rich spring, summer, autumn and winter!

"Hehe," said Grandpa, smiling at the bewildered grandmother, "and touching those charms on the table." At that moment, a gust of wind ran through the crack in the door and into the house, lifting the corner of the charm.

"I'm not stupid, if you want me to be electrocuted again!" Grandma looked sideways at the yellow side of the table and didn't dare to approach. The wind can lift the yellow paper, but it can't blow grandma's hair. Grandma is old, and her hair is like withered grass in late autumn, and the active wind can't drive her excitement.

"Hey, these spells don't have electricity." Grandpa laughed.

"I don't believe it. Who knows it's a bit out of power. Grandma said alarmedly.

"You don't believe it? Then I'll show you first. After saying that, Grandpa first pressed his hand on the charm on the table. Grandma squatted down and looked up at her grandfather's expression, for fear that he would deliberately endure it and then deceive her.

There was no trace of pain on Grandpa's face, and he looked down at Grandma with a smile and motioned for her to come and try the feel too.

Grandma stood up, walked carefully to her grandfather's side, and pressed her hand to the charm on the table.

"Huh? How do you get cold? Grandma asked, looking her grandfather in the eye.

"No electricity, right?" Grandpa asked deliberately.

"No electricity, no electricity." Grandma said with a smile.

"Is that chair different from these?" Grandma's interest was aroused, and she took the initiative to ask grandpa with interest. As she spoke, she pinched the nail of her thumb into the nail of her index finger and pulled out a few strands of grass.

"Of course."

"And what about the chair?" Grandma asked, rubbing a pair of thick palms calloused by labor.

"Try it yourself." Grandpa picked up a piece of yellow paper with no characters, picked up the brush and drew it. The brush is like an endless source, leaving the black liquid on the paper continuously. In a few moments, a spell was drawn.

Grandma approached the chair full of charms, and walked slowly, as if she was sharpening her knife and approaching a chicken and duck during the New Year. The charm hung lazily on the chair, quietly waiting for grandma to come closer. The grandmother who walked to the chair hesitated again, and asked the grandfather timidly, "Can you really touch it?" Don't hurt me on purpose! ”

"I can touch it!" Grandpa replied simply and impatiently, "It's not a tiger's butt, why can't you touch it?" He pretended to focus on his charm, but his eyes were focused on his grandmother's every move.

Grandma's hand stretched out to the chair, but her body involuntarily leaned back, as if to carry a pot of boiling water, for fear that the hot water vapor would spray on her face.

Finally touching the quietly waiting charm, Grandma quickly withdrew her hand. Grandpa's eyebrows furrowed and he asked, "Is it hot?" ”

Grandma looked at Grandpa, shook her head and said, "It's not hot." ”

"Why are you retracting your hand so quickly? Are you really afraid that I will hurt you? Grandpa frowned and said dissatisfied.

Grandma pursed her lips and pressed her hand on the charm with peace of mind.

"What does it feel?" Grandpa put down the brush and asked.

"It's a little hot." Grandma said, "The temperature is about the same as the water in which you soak pig food." "Grandma's metaphor is inseparable from the farm work she often does in her life. It is difficult for a peasant woman like grandma to get out of such a shackle.

"Is it just a little hot?" Grandpa poked his head out and asked, as if he had never experienced these yellow spells himself, and Grandma was his first experimenter.

"It seems to be hotter than just now. If the pig food is at this temperature, it will be hot to drink. Grandma said sincerely.