During the Qingming Festival, it rains a lot, and the pedestrians on the road want to break their souls, so they ask where the restaurant is? The shepherd boy refers to Xinghua Village. Pen × fun × Pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 ｉｎｆｏ

The day before the Qingming Festival, there was rain, light rain, and thatch covered the mountain road. No pedestrians, no restaurants. No shepherd boys. Only I stood on the cliff at the entrance of Xinghua Village in the past, my nose was sore, my eyes were clouded, and cold tears hung on my cheeks.

Twenty-five years, with a flick of the fingers, more than 9,000 days and nights, a few haunting dreams. The mountains are still the same, the water is still the same, what about the villages? What about the Xinghua Village, where more than 100 households and more than 600 men, women and children live?

The old apricots at the entrance of the village are still there, and the white apricot blossoms are piled up on the canopy of umbrellas, and the firewood, grass and miscellaneous trees cover the dilapidated earthen walls and green tiles. From the northeast shore of the reservoir all the way up, halfway up the mountain, the remnants of the wall are faintly visible. The outline of the lively mountain village of the past is still there, but the familiar neighbors in the village are gone, leaving the dilapidated courtyards encroached by wild grass and trees, in this clear drizzle, strange and miserable.

This once-notorious natural village has long since disappeared from the administrative map of southern China, and the dilapidated village is virtually uninhabited.

Reaching out and touching my cheek, I took a long breath, I lit a cigarette, took a hard puff, slowly spit it out, the agitated mood slowly calmed down, I opened the firewood in front of me, and walked towards the entrance of the village.

For a long time, the road into the village has been encroached upon by firewood, grass and thorns, and there is no way to see that there is still a road. But this is not in my way, every road in the village is engraved in my heart, even after more than 20 years, I will not go wrong with my eyes closed.

In the twilight of spring, the cold air in the mountains has not yet gone, the slanting drizzle will dye the distant mountains and forests green, the firewood, grass and trees are wet with new branches and young leaves, and there are all kinds of wild flowers dotted in the meantime, a lively spring scene.

The small umbrella in my hand can only protect my head, the sleeves and hem have long been wet, and the trouser legs have reached the thighs, I don't feel cold, but a little hot. The thorns of the firewood and grass could not hold me back, and in a moment I was under the old apricot tree.

A hug of thick old apricots, the diameter of the crown is more than ten meters, the umbrella is like standing, the ground of the square garden ten meters under the tree is paved with a layer of rotten leaves, there are red, red, white and white petals falling on it, the ancient well not far from the apricot tree has been covered with firewood and grass, a few pine trees have grown in the sunning flat, not big, the thickness of a fist, a cluster of pine needles soaked in oil like a thick green can not be opened, the newly pumped apricot flower column is like a millet ear, gently shaking and dancing in this oblique wind and drizzle.

I had no intention of admiring this rare view. I found a small open space in the center of the sun, unloaded the big backpack behind me, squatted down, pulled a circle of weeds around it, it seemed that the open space was larger, opened the backpack, pulled out a plastic bag, took out the contents and put it on the ground.

These are all prepared by me in the city, a roast chicken, a steamed fish and a piece of Dongpo meat, then take out candles and incense sticks and light them, insert them on the muddy ground, kneel down to the village, and after knocking respectfully three times, I took out a large stack of paper money from my backpack, kneaded and lit it, burned it into a pile, and finally hung a circle of firecrackers on the small pine branches, and with the crackling and empty explosion, wisps of green smoke rose to the treetops, and were diluted by the oblique wind and drizzle over the sunning valley flat.

I can only pay tribute to those old neighbors who have passed away, and my hometown that has been away for more than 20 years is actually unfamiliar except for memories, not to mention that I don't remember which hill each of their graves is on, and I can't look for every hillside through thorns and thorns. That's not realistic. That's all I can do for them.

In fact, the idea of returning here to sweep their graves has haunted me for many years, and if I don't go back to Xinghua Village in this life, I'm afraid I won't be at peace until I die. It's just that I haven't been able to get my wish for various reasons, and today I finally got my wish.

I sat on my knees, and even though I had a plastic bag, I still felt very wet. When the pile of paper money had all turned to black dust in the green smoke, I got up and walked towards the village, which was no longer an uninhabited village, and even though it was a terrifying ghost village more than twenty years ago, it was no stress for me. Since I've finally come back, I have to go around the village anyway.

I'm going to have to look at my mud houses, whether they're dilapidated or completely collapsed. I also have to visit the homes of my childhood friends and friends such as Daddy Nan, Liangshuishi, and Daddy Gui, as well as the homes of my childhood friends and friends, such as Huang Shiren and Hu Hansan, because this abandoned mountain village with ruined walls everywhere carries all my childhood and teenage life. This is where my youth began.

It wasn't until about three o'clock in the afternoon that I returned to the entrance of the village, and I wandered around the village for four hours.

Standing on the stone of the road cliff, I looked back at the village, tears wet my eyes again, I haven't shed tears for a long time, but today I have many tears like a woman, I don't know how many tears I shed today, but I know that all the tears I have shed for more than 40 years are not as many as today.

For more than 20 years, the real reason has never been known to outsiders, even the Xinghua villagers at that time did not know, and the more than 200 neighbors who passed away were even confused.

I decided that I would write a book, a book about Xinghua Village, to record the people and things of the year, whether others believe it or not, no matter how you look at it, I don't care, I just want my soul to be safe, and also for those villagers who moved out of Xinghua Village and have now settled elsewhere to restore history, they have the right to know everything that happened back then.

In fact, there were many things related to me back then, of course, I was by no means a murderer, but I was an insider. He is the only one who is alive in the world today.

If you want to tell you what happened in Xinghua Village back then, of course, you have to start with my childhood.