Unexpectedly, the sound of the movie sounded closer. The voice followed the south wind, across the Lishi River, through the high and low crop fields, and came one after another. In the middle, there seems to be a string of firecrackers that are not short.

It looks like someone has died. I didn't dare to go to the Waizhuang alone to watch a movie, I was too young to say that I couldn't see it in the crowd, which could squeeze me to the ground and be trampled on by someone.

What's more, I don't mean to go to the movies, I just want to hear the sound in the wind, why it is ethereal and clear for a while, so that I really want to go over and see it.

I heard it, and the sound must have come from the village on the west side of the Lishi River, or if not, at least from the village farther away. I was so far away that I seemed to see the faint glow over the village.

In the countryside, as soon as it gets dark, people's feet are basically set slowly, and there is no entertainment, so people rarely go out and walk around. If someone plays a movie or sings a play on the village, if it is not too far away, many people will run over to watch it.

If someone in the village dies, it will be even more lively, and some will even invite some so-called village stage to find a few young women dressed very coolly, and they can roar through the middle of the night with their throats pulled. Some will invite a simple theater troupe to set up a stage, and they can also babble and sing until the second half of the night.

But it seems to be okay today, there should only be one movie on this village, and it is already playing. I heard the sound of the generator, it was dull.

However, I stood on the top of the brick-burning kiln and looked southwest, so far away that I did not see the place where the movie was shown, but I saw a small lamp, flickering brightly and dimly on the west side of the Lishi River.

Could it be that this family is digging graves at night? Why do you blow a trumpet on the edge of the grave? I could hear it very clearly, in the continuous sound of the movie in the distance, there were bursts of suona and drum beats, which came from the other side of the Lishi River.

In our place, there is a custom that the deceased are all buried, and the grave pit to be buried will be dug during the day on the day of the person's death, and there is no example of digging it again at night.

So, as soon as I saw the lights over there, I felt something was not normal. So I walked towards the edge of the Rock River.

The night was very dark, but for me, it didn't have any effect, whether it was the weeds on the side of the road, the crops in the field, or even the long insects that crawled to the side, or the hares that jumped high and rushed forward, I didn't pay attention, just listened to the suona sound, getting closer and closer.

Finally I ran to the bank of the Rock River, and I stood on the east bank and looked southwest. Over there, more than a mile from the riverbank, there was a small lamp, and in that lamplight, there was a square table, and a circle of people sat around the table, and those people were playing a very sad music very hard.

The West River is very wide here, it looks like it has to be half a mile away, and the waterway in the middle looks very deep, and the river is dark and secluded in the night, and slowly flows southward.

I didn't go south, but stood on the east bank of the river, looking at the man at the table. In the shadow of the lamp, there is a person who is particularly eye-catching. It's just a person who is blowing a long suona, and I am extremely involved in watching it.

He was holding the suona in both hands, his fingers kept shaking, his cheeks were bulging like eggplants, and they were still bulging out, and even I was about to see the green tendons inside.

I was startled, what if this suddenly exploded, just when I was very worried about him, he inhaled, and with the sound of the suona falling high and low, his cheeks retracted sharply.

The man's eyes bulged outward, and his eyelids kept rolling up and down, making his thick eyebrows move with them. And his very thick neck is even more abnormally changing, suddenly thinner for a while, and bruised for a while.

If I hadn't heard the sound of this suona, just looking at this person, I would have the impression that he had goat epilepsy.

However, this person is quite devoted, and I can feel it from the sound of the suona alone. The sound of suona can be described as extremely miserable, extremely sad, and extremely moving.

I'm still a child, and just listening to this suona sound makes me feel very tear-jerking. Standing on the breezy riverbank, I forgot the time for a while, and my mind couldn't help but gallop with the sound of the suona.

There was no one passing by on the embankment of the night, either on the west bank or on the east bank where I stood, and I looked south and north, not to mention people, not even a dog looking for food outside.

The crops are very quiet, and the row of tall poplars on the river ridge are also in this night, as if they understand the sentimentality of the suona, and they stand there quietly.

As I listened attentively, I seemed to see a figure walking slowly past and again behind the players. Whenever he walked behind a player, he stretched out his hand as if he were going to hold someone's head, made that motion, then lowered his head slightly, opened his mouth a few times, and then returned to his original form, and walked towards the next person.

In this hot performance, this person walked around like this, and I don't know if these players were too involved, or if they didn't see this person at all, they still played as always, and didn't care.

I was shocked, what is this person doing, why is he doing such an action, aren't you afraid that those people will see it? I looked to the side, and when I arrived, I thought that someone was digging a grave in the lamplight, but there was none.

There was no grave pit on the side, and there were no grave diggers, just a table of drummers and the man who walked behind them. What a strange thing.

The person who played the suona was still blowing so intently, his mouth was still bulging into an eggplant, and his eyes were about to jump out, and behind him, the man slowly walked over, stretched out his hands, and made a gesture to hold his head next to his head, but after trying and trying, the man put it down and walked to another blower.

Maybe the wind was blowing strongly, and the lights were a little swaying, but I could still see it clearly across the river. These drummers are very attentive and professional, and they can listen to a child like me with a lot of heart.

And the person behind them, I can see clearly, on such a hot day, he is wearing a thick cotton coat and a big hat. However, the hat and the cotton clothes on the body are black and new.