"Old Road"

The old Taoist priest who lived in the Taoist temple on the outskirts of the city died.

At the only intersection in the small town, a big black pickup truck ran directly over Lao Dao's body, Lao Dao was lying in a pool of blood in the middle of the asphalt road, the sun was a little dazzling, he stared at the black pickup truck speeding away, looked at a small black crockpot that fell and smashed beside him, and several bloodshot lines protruded from his eyeballs.

Cars swept by, sending a cloud of gray powder out of the fragments of the crockpot, reflected in the eyes of the old man.

This is the ashes of Lao Dao's son.

Lao Dao didn't know how he watched the crematorium owner push his son's body into the incinerator, he only remembered that the big black stove "rumbled" a few times, and his son was gone.

It was midsummer at that time, the old ceiling fan was squeaking and turning, and the crematorium was hot, but Lao Dao stood in front of the incinerator for a long time, and then he was urged by the boss, and carefully took out a crumpled banknote from his robe, smoothed the creases on the banknote with his fingers, and then handed it to the boss.

The boss grabbed the money, casually took out a small black crockpot from the large wooden box at his feet, and then used a broom to beat out a bag of ashes from the bottom of the incinerator and threw it into the crockpot.

Lao Dao was still stunned, but the boss drove him out with a broom, holding the crockpot and standing in front of the big iron gate of the crematorium, Lao Dao looked at the crockpot in his arms like that, at a loss.

The son is just ten years old, and he was raised by Lao Dao with a handful of and urine, and the people in the small town don't know when Lao Dao has an extra child next to him, anyway, it has nothing to do with him.

After a long time, I forgot about it.

But Lao Dao must work harder, because there is one more person in the family and one more mouth to eat.

The youngest son is very sensible, Lao Dao likes the younger son very much, so he specially asked someone to buy a few pieces of fabric, and made a brand-new robe for the youngest son with a needle and a thread, which is particularly good-looking, Lao Dao is ready to give it to him on his youngest son's birthday this year, thinking of the appearance of the youngest son wearing this robe, Lao Dao seems to have seen himself when he was a child.

When he was a child, although Lao Dao wore Taoist robes and lived in Taoist temples, he was not the owner of Taoist temples.

Because this Taoist temple was originally owned by the old Taoist master, but at that time, the old Taoist master was beaten into feudal superstition, and he jumped into the well when he was angry, and the old Taoist naturally inherited the Taoist temple and became the last Taoist priest in the small town.

Because the factory suddenly did not recruit child labor, the young old man could only beg along the street, and even if he grew up, he would only do some miscellaneous hard work, barely surviving until now, without any waves or surprises.

Until one day, when Lao Dao came home from work, he picked up an infant baby on the side of the road, and Lao Dao remembered that he was also picked up by the master, so he took the baby in.

For the first time, Lao Dao's eyes showed brilliance, he took care of the baby in every way, although Lao Dao himself could only barely feed his stomach, but he would still divide the food to feed the baby, and the baby grew up day by day, becoming Lao Dao's youngest son.

The two should have lived happily ever after.

However, because the Taoist temple is located on the outskirts of the small city, the economic development of the small city is very rapid, and it is about to become a "big city", but this Taoist temple is choked by the throat and suppresses the expansion plan of the small city.

It was naturally impossible for Lao Dao to give up the Taoist temple left by his master, and it was impossible for him to take off the Taoist robe he had worn for most of his life, so he refused the county magistrate's request to demolish the Taoist temple.

Since then, Lao Dao's life has not been peaceful, painting, pouring dung, taking out garbage, and even someone came to steal the deed in the middle of the night, and the original factory also stopped Lao Dao from the door, Lao Dao's situation is becoming more and more difficult, although his son is only ten years old, but he can also vaguely feel Lao Dao's suffering.

The son gently stroked Lao Dao's head, and the unkempt hair touched his son's immature little hands, and Lao Dao suddenly felt that all his troubles were swept away.

The son also smiled sweetly.

Lao Dao had been in a stalemate with the county magistrate for several months, and he knew that this was not always a solution, after all, he couldn't always let his young son suffer with him.

At this time, Lao Dao heard that there was an official in the city, who was from the Cultural Bureau, Lao Dao hurriedly greeted him, ran from the south of the city to the north of the city, and ran from the small city to the city, and his son was unable to run around due to malnutrition for several months, so he was left in the Taoist temple by Lao Dao.

Lao Dao searched for a long time to catch a ride, and after a long day of stuffiness in the messy truck, he finally came to the city and met the officials of the Cultural Affairs Bureau.

When the official heard about the old way's intention, he was very curious about the old Taoist temple, and immediately decided to drive to the small town to have a look, which was a big black pickup truck, which was particularly majestic.

Lao Dao sat in the car stiffly, he gathered his robe, the shabby robe and the brand new seat looked incompatible.

When the county magistrate heard that officials from the Cultural Affairs Bureau were suddenly coming to the town, he was very happy to buy a banquet at the hotel to entertain the officials.

Lao Dao didn't have the heart to eat any wine banquet, he had his son in his heart, but he couldn't go away, otherwise the officials would definitely be deceived by the county magistrate.

Finally, the official proposed his intention to the county magistrate: "I heard that ...... Is there a Taoist temple in your county? ”

The county magistrate was stunned for a moment, and looked at Lao Dao viciously.

"Nope."

Lao Dao was immediately anxious, but the official waved his hand unhurriedly, let Lao Dao lead the way, and walked towards the Taoist temple.

The temple was built next to a large, twisted locust tree, which, in the county magistrate's opinion, should have been the site of the town's largest chemical plant.

"Not there yet?"

The official pinched his watch, because the suburbs in the direction of the Taoist temple were the chemical plant planned by the county magistrate that had not been able to start construction, so the road had not yet been repaired, and the car could not get off the road, and the official county magistrate and others had to follow the old road and walk in the mud of the grass.

"Official, we don't have any Taoist temples here!" The county magistrate innocently wiped the sweat from his forehead, trying to persuade the officials to go back.

"He is talking nonsense! Official, the Taoist temple is in front, and my son is still waiting for me inside! How can there be a fake? ”

Lao Dao's eyes narrowed, but he saw that the county magistrate's face suddenly turned blue, and he looked at Lao Dao in disbelief: "Your son...... In a Taoist temple?! ”

"How?"

The officials noticed that the county magistrate's expression was very alarmed.

Lao Dao also sighed in his heart, he quickened his pace, he couldn't wait for the officials behind him, he walked and walked, ran up, ran fast, ran in the direction of his memory, and ran to the ...... On top of a ruin.

The ruins of the wall can be faintly seen as the prototype of an old building, but it no longer exists.

The official and the county magistrate slowly followed, and the official looked at the pile of ruins and sighed—he had already guessed what had happened.

"I ...... What about my Taoist temple? ”

Lao Dao crawled out of the rubble, grabbed the county magistrate's shoulder, and left two palm prints on the county magistrate's neat suit with dusty palms.

"Where's my son!!" Lao Dao trembled and cried.

He had only cried twice in his life, the first time when his master jumped into a well.

"What are you grabbing? Be careful with my clothes!! ”

The county magistrate pushed Lao Dao away, Lao Dao was old and frail, and his strength was naturally not comparable to that of the county magistrate, so he was pushed to the ground.

Just experienced the pain of losing a child, and was pushed so hard by the county magistrate, Lao Dao's eyes were obviously in a trance, but Lao Dao clearly remembered, and then the county magistrate bowed his head to the official, the official nodded, and then the county magistrate turned around and took out two blue-green things from his pocket.

Thrown in the face of the old way.

Those were three brand-new 100 yuan bills, which Lao Dao had only seen once in his life, but they were used by others to buy his son's life.

The official looked at the ruins of the Taoist temple, which had become unformed, sighed, followed by the county magistrate, and left without looking back.

Leaving only Lao Dao, he looked at the three hundred yuan in his hand and tore it to pieces.

The body of his son was dug up by Lao Dao's own hands, and he dug stone by stone, digging for two whole days, and the whole palm of his hand was somewhat deformed due to excessive force, and the flesh and blood pierced by the gravel were blurred, and it was not in shape.

Lao Dao didn't have a car and couldn't afford a coffin, so he changed his son into the small robe that he had been hiding under the bed, and then carried his son all the way to the crematorium.

As a Taoist priest, cremation should be the most taboo, but since a long time ago, Xiaocheng bulldozed the cemetery in order to cater to the new era, and burial was strictly prohibited, which allowed Xiaocheng to have a crematorium.

Wandering on the street with his son's ashes in his arms, pedestrians all took a detour when they saw Lao Dao's sloppy appearance, but Lao Dao did not notice it at all.

He was oblivious to everything that was happening around him, and all he could see was the small, swarthy crockpot in his arms.

The breath of flames swirled around the crockpot, but it was suddenly dispersed by a violent current.

Lao Dao only saw that it was dark in front of him, and then the world around him began to spin, and finally changed back to its original position.

There was a loud "bang", and it seemed that something had hit the ground.

A viscous liquid gushed out of Lao Dao's abdomen, and Lao Dao suddenly felt a little sleepy, and he wanted to sleep with his son in his arms, but his arms were empty.

He seemed to sense something, and turned his head.

A cloud of gray dust appeared in the pupils, and the dust drifted scattered, faintly showing the appearance of a child in a Taoist robe, ethereal, and passing away with the wind.

And this fleeting illusion.

Forever frozen in the last moment of Lao Dao's life.