Why am I so sensitive to shrouds? Because something special happened to me. It all started when I was ten years old.

At that time, there were frequent power outages in the countryside, and there were still many homes in the village without televisions, so there were still limited ways to entertain during the slack time. Occasionally, the village comes back to play acrobatics, shadow puppetry, etc., and every time it comes, the village is as lively as the New Year. However, for most middle-aged and elderly people, they have a unique way to kill time, that is, "reading a book".

The so-called reading of commentaries is to find a commentary, such as "Hu Jiajiang", "Xue Gang Anti-Tang", "Xue Rengui's Expedition to the West", etc., which are read by a literate person, and others listen to them with relish.

Half of the house is a horse pen, and the other half is made of wheat straw and the like.

Next to the bunk, there is also a coffin. In the past, in the countryside, there was a tradition of storing coffins in advance for families with elderly people, but to be precise, it should be called "longevity". In the adobe house where the book is studied, there is a mouthful of such "longevity materials", in fact, no matter what it is called, it is a coffin anyway.

I've loved stories since I was a child, so every time I read a book, I almost always show up. It was a little strange at first that the old men, such a young child as me, could sit there quietly and listen to the same books as they did, but then they got used to it.

More die-hard listening fans than me, I'm afraid it's the old man Wang.

Old man Wang is in very bad health, he has asthma, and he is wheezing in summer when he is strict, let alone winter. Therefore, when listening to the commentary, in order to make his wheezing sound not affect others, he always sits in a corner far away from others.

He has a very stubborn temper and doesn't speak, but when he speaks, he basically quarrels with people. I remember that I have never seen him speak politely to others, either raising the bar with others, or making others unable to get off the stage. Because he has such a strange temper and is withdrawn, his popularity is particularly bad, and even his son doesn't bother to take care of him.

I remember that year, the weather was very cold, the north wind was howling outside, because the township wanted to renovate the power grid, so the electricity had to be cut off for half a month, the TV was not watchable, and there was nowhere to recreation, so I could only go to the adobe house every day to listen to them read the book. During that time, there were more people listening to the commentary, and at most there were more than a dozen, and the room was full.

Somehow, Grandpa Wang, the most hardcore book lover, didn't come.

Later, I heard from others that Grandpa Wang was very sick, and his only son went to a place more than 100 miles away to work as a stonemason, and his daughter-in-law was too lazy to care about him, and his popularity was very poor, so no one visited his house at all. However, it seems that some people say that Grandpa Wang's horror can't survive that year.

But then something strange happened.

In winter, the nights are long. So sometimes when I read a commentary, I won't end until one or two o'clock in the morning. But as soon as it was ten o'clock in the evening, the people slowly began to disperse, and by midnight there were probably only four or five people left. The rest are definitely enthusiast-level "book friends".

I'm one of those enthusiasts.

I remember that night, it was snowing heavily outside, and there were fewer and fewer people in the bookstore, and by about eleven o'clock, there were only about five or six people left.

There was only one candle lit in the room, and the man who was reading sat next to the dim candlelight, reading leisurely. Suddenly, the door that was already a little tattered was pushed a crack, a cold wind blew into the house, the candlelight jumped, almost extinguished, the people sitting next to the candle hurriedly took their hands to cover it, and at the same time, the eyes of the five or six people in the room were focused on the person who came in, no need to look at the face, but look at the walking rickety, staggering figure, you know that it is Grandpa Wang.

One of them asked, "It turned out to be Uncle Wang, who said that you are very sick, isn't it good?" ”

Grandpa Wang didn't seem to hear it, but just moved his small bench step by step to the corner that belonged to him, and then sat down to listen to the book as usual.

Everyone knew about his bad temper, so no one paid any attention to him, and continued to read it.

And the closest is me. Because I am small, my legs and feet are more dexterous, and I like to climb on top of the coffin, lie down on the coffin lid and listen to the book, that posture is very comfortable, and the coffin is close to the corner where Grandpa Wang sits. In this humble bookstore, the position of Grandpa Wang and I is relatively fixed, so I am very familiar with his panting and unusually heavy wheezing voice.

Originally, I was a little sleepy, but Grandpa Wang came in and brought a cold air into the house. My mind cleared, and when I peed outside, returned to the house, and climbed onto the lid of the coffin to continue listening, I suddenly realized one thing: how could I not hear Grandpa Wang's trademark gasp.

At that distance between me and him, I can usually hear his wheezing clearly even in the noisy daytime, why can't I hear it in such a quiet night? Could it be that asthma is cured?

I took advantage of the dim candlelight to sneak a glance at Grandpa Wang, who was sitting in the corner, and suddenly found that his face was very different from usual, and all the wrinkles on his face seemed to be relaxed, and he used to have that kind of breathless painful expression, but now he was never more seren, but he seemed a little dazed.

A black dog that was lying next to me suddenly stood up, walked to the corner where Grandpa Wang was sitting, cocked his hind legs, and peed on Grandpa Wang's body, but Grandpa Wang was still expressionless and sat there motionless. I hurriedly sat up and shouted at the dog, trying to scare it away, so that Grandpa Wang would not be urinated on by the dog. Hearing me shout, Uncle Baosheng, who was reading, immediately stopped, and several other listeners sitting next to him also turned to look at me and asked, "What's wrong?" ”

I hurriedly replied, "What about the big black dog peeing on Grandpa Wang?" ”

Uncle Baosheng asked, "How can there be Grandpa Wang, didn't this dog pee on the wall?" ”

I also turned my head to look, and sure enough, how could there be any Grandpa Wang, the big black dog peed on the corner with a bag of urine!

"Grandpa Wang was indeed sitting here just now, why did he leave so quickly?" I said.

"Obviously didn't you fall asleep and dream just now, Grandpa Wang is so sick, why did you come back and I heard it, hurry up and go home and sleep" Uncle Baosheng responded to me with a little disdain.

"He did just come, and you were still greeting him, and he was sitting here," I replied, still not to be outdone.

"This kid is really faint, which of you saw Grandpa Wang coming, ha, what a hell" Four or five people laughed together.

I wasn't arguing, I just felt a fear that I had never felt before.

Grandpa Wang is indeed here! I've never fallen asleep either! I'm sure.