At the beginning of September, the weather is getting cooler;

At the beginning of October, the snow was blank;

Canglan North Village, a small village perched at the foot of the mountain, surrounded by mountains, has a straight road running through both sides of the village in the middle of the village, connecting the north and south ends of the village. It is the only way for the village to lead to the outside world of smoke and clouds, and it is also the only way for the stranger to return;

In the very center of the village, there is a large square wheat field, scattered with the straw collected by the villagers, waiting for them only at dusk when every household turns on the stove to cook, it is stuffed into the stove fire table, turned into a blazing fire, and cooks the aroma of rice, so that the evening of the whole village is more full of life.

Every twilight, the wheat field becomes very lively, and the old people of the village carry their pipes and small wooden stools, walk to the straw pile, put down the small wooden stool, and put their butts on it, leaning on the side of the straw pile, not caring at all that the straw and gray grass are stained with clothes. smashed his mouth, smoked homemade tobacco leaves, and talked about the shortcomings of the parents in the village. Life is like this for them, undisturbed, day after day, watching the hairy boys in the village, slowly growing up and becoming adults. Walking through the old roads they took back then, watching them cross the river by feeling the stones, and with their eyes closed, they could tell the mistakes they were going to make and the detours they took.

Shake off the old soot in the pipe, count the days step by step;

The river to the south of the village, when I was young, crossed it with great effort, and went to the south to see a wider river and a more turbulent water. Climbed one peak after another, and finally returned to the village as if walking on the ground, over the hill to the north of the village. Let the loess keep burying itself, until it is finally buried above the head and died;

In the village, every few years, young people cross the river to the south, and older people return from the north over the mountains. The people in the village seem to have long been accustomed to it, and they don't pay attention to it. Those who are going to leave will wave silently, which counts as a farewell. People who come back will smile happily, which can be regarded as unloading the burden and accepting it peacefully;

The people who walked were constantly walking, and the people who came back were in twos and threes, so there were not many children in the old wheat field in the village who could form a group to enjoy Taotao together. Finally became the big naughty ghost of the child king, but he was even more pitiful, not only could he not scold Fang Xuan, but he also wanted to be a father and a mother, the younger one had to be coaxed to cry his nose, and the older one was not serious, and he tore his partner's gown, and he had to thread the needle and thread himself, and sew it all over the place, so that he could wear it home and not run bare-assed.

For several years in a row, the child king was occupied by a boy named Qingfeng. It is not so much about occupancy, but rather about forcibly driving ducks to the shelves, which is purely helpless. Count forward with your fingers, a few years ago, the children in the village were all sensible and shrewd, all of them were young and old, strong and strong, one by one like a calf, running and playing, a large group of hairy children tied together, and it was rare to hear the sound of crying and crying. Now these monkey children are completely upside down, tie a piece of noon, snot and saliva can be connected to a water tank, one second is still happy out of breath, and the next second, rolling all over the ground crying dad and calling mother. Poor Qingfeng, this child, every time he encounters this situation, he can only start coaxing one by one, the tears in his left hand have not been wiped clean, and he has to wipe his nose without raising his right hand, but he is tired enough.

In the village, this round of children is like an old apricot tree in March, which has just borne flower bones, but it has encountered a temperature turn, and the hail has smashed down with snowflakes, thinning the harvest and bringing the root of the disease.

Two round and fleshy little girls, five weak little boys, and 7 little people, tied together all day long, happy and happy, so that the whole village felt the joy that had been lost for a long time;

The village is small, with less than 100 families scattered around. Every family in the village has dozens of poultry and livestock in the fence in their backyard, helping the family plough the land and climbing the plow, and they can also be self-sufficient in meat and vegetables during the New Year's holidays. Every 15 days, the village will take turns to send several sturdy middle-aged people to drive ox carts to the town more than 200 miles away from the village to exchange for the villagers' daily necessities. This rhythm of life is something that everyone begins to repeat day after day when they can remember. All the villagers knew that it was the ancestors who left it, and no one questioned it, and no one would try to change it. The village is too small, and the coughing sound at the end of the village can always be clearly floated under the crooked neck tree at the head of the village, so no one dares to find another way to find this thought, because they are afraid of being put on the big hat of disobeying their ancestors.

In such a small village, the big hat of disobedience to the ancestors is enough to crush every young and strong man. The village has a strange name, it is called Canglan North Village. When all the children remembered the incident, they were wondering if there was a village in the east, west, north and south, and they happened to be in the north village, and their status was respected and irreplaceable.

There is an old man in the village who can teach children to read, and he lives in the westernmost part of the village, next to the foot of the mountain. In the small courtyard at the foot of the mountain, the old man had set up a large room and set up a few benches, where the children would listen to the old man tell some incredible stories every morning. However, the story did not remember much, but everyone found the exact same word as their name in the story in the end, and firmly remembered how to write and read.

The old man has been in the village for too long, and he makes a living by eating the hundred family meals in the village, and a person who has no cooking skills at all has to fill his stomach, put aside the sneaking and robbery, and can only be cheeky and pretend to eat the hundred family meals calmly. Fortunately, few households in the village will care about the trivial things of life such as adding a pair of chopsticks and a bowl, and this is the case in all ten miles and eight towns. The old man had a very large pipe, and when he went down in one sip, he could spit out a long dragon of mist, choking his nose, and when he was not telling a story, he always kept the pipe in his hand, and he puffed it out for a long time. The kids always called him Grandpa Pipe.

Grandpa Pipe has a neighbor who is a mute who goes to the mountains to pick wild fruits and make wine, and he can't talk to people, so he always makes a lot of fruit wine and gives it to the villagers. When I met the villagers, I would woo and woo for a long time every time, but unfortunately the villagers couldn't understand what he was expressing.

Grandpa Pipe always smells the wine and smashes his mouth, but he never asks for a cup to satisfy his cravings, and the dumb man never takes the initiative to give Grandpa Pipe a taste of fruit wine. The two of them are obviously neighbors, but they are like strangers. For this reason, the villagers did not miss tea and dinner, and carefully figured it out.

Autumn in this place is always short, and there aren't many opportunities to watch the whole village turn yellow in the autumn at dusk. The north wind whistled in the snowflakes, smashed on the branches, and crushed the leaves on the ground, and the whole village gradually became quiet from day to night. The bustle is outside, and in this village there will be no such thing as this season.

At this time of year, Grandpa Pipe would take the children to the mountains, set traps to catch rabbits, catch game, and come back to distribute them to the villagers, and bring a big pot of braised hare meat, accompanied by dumb fruit wine, which is almost to get the souls of the old and young in the village out of their bodies. Rabbit fur, and then make earmuffs for this group of monkey children, cover their ears with fluffy, and be warmed up all winter, not to mention how happy. Every time I go up the mountain to catch rabbits, the dumb man will always go with him without saying a word, bringing a big gourd of strong fruit wine. The biting cold wind on the mountain kept roaring, almost trying to swallow the group in one gulp. Grandpa Pipe snorted his big pipe unhurriedly, squinting his eyes, and couldn't tell whether it was smoke or breath at all. The monkey children's hands were firmly poked into the cuffs, resolutely not to take them out, one by one shivering because of the cold weather, but their eyes were full of joy, and then a bumpy distance, they could be scattered on the ground, melt the snow, and bring spring.

Every time he went up the mountain, Grandpa Pipe became the chatter that the northwest wind couldn't stop, talking all the way and teaching the children how to travel in the snow. How to take a tree branch, poke it on the ground, and feel for the depth of the snow. Tell the children that when they start to get hot when they are walking in the snow, they should slow down, and resolutely do not let their bodies sweat or wet their underwear. Teach children what snow blindness is. At this time, the dumb man always looked comfortable, drinking a little wine and smashing his mouth. Seeing that the little cub was really too cold to bear, he quietly opened the wine gourd, fed the child a sip of spirits, choked, but warmed up, completely ignored, this group of little cubs drank such strong wine at such an age, will they become a group of drunken cats in the future.

"Grandpa Pipe, why does he always take us up the hill to catch rabbits in the winter?"

"Grandpa Pipe, why did you never take us to the river to catch fish in the summer?"

"Grandpa Pipe, why do you never finish smoking that tobacco leaf in your big pipe?"

"Grandpa Pipe, why do you catch rabbits, but you can't cook?"

"Grandpa Pipe, you have eaten all the food in the village, why do you always tell me whose food is delicious and whose food is not delicious?"

The children, always asking all kinds of questions, the pipe grandpa listened to one, took a puff of cigarette, dumb listened to one, and sneered.

One listens without saying anything, and the other laughs without saying.

Everything is alive, and it's easy to be alive. Keep the bottom and hide the way out. A good man is a cook from afar. As a human being, you can't pick up a bowl to eat, put down the bowl and scold your mother.

Grandpa Pipe can't explain these truths to the children clearly, but he can make them remember some things, and these truths are influencing. After persisting in these things for a long time, the reason will be understood.

"Children, what does it feel like to stand on the top of a mountain?"

Grandpa Pipe finally put away the big pipe, put his hands behind his back, looked out at the small village at the bottom of the mountain, and took the initiative to ask the children.

The children who had been holding back all the way, at this time shouted in unison:

"Cold!"

As soon as he opened his mouth, he poured a strong breath of cold air, and closed his mouth tightly one by one.

"Look south, children, for when you grow up, and when you want to leave this place and go outside, you will cross the river that is now frozen. When you cross the river in the summer, the splash will wash away some of the earthy smell you bring with you! ”

"Come, turn your head, and look again! When you've had enough of the outside world, you'll have to climb over the mountain to the north, and the familiar smell of earth will be crawling all over your trouser legs! ”

"So, when you go outside in the future, don't be afraid that others will call you mud legs, that is, you have crossed too few rivers, and when there are enough, you will wash them away!"

After the trap, he took the children to the top of the mountain, and told the children a story that they didn't understand.

The children must not have listened, even if their bodies could resist the cold, their hearts could not stop the rabbit that had just been laid in the trap and fluttered vigorously.

In the north village, those who want to go out cross the river to the south, and those who want to come back return from the north to the mountains.