I still remember it was a snowy winter, and the house was full of guests, their laughter and conversation filling the house. My brother and I are like little wanderers outside the house, and although everything around us is full of joy and warmth, we prefer to play next to the firewood pile in the backyard.

My brother and I have a special game, which is to play the rubbing. We like to pile up the colorful crackers and light them together. The smell of gunpowder, the deafening sound of cannons, and the illumination of the firelight all brought us endless joy. We laughed and jumped, as if every explosion made our hearts beat faster.

However, I knew that those figurines would ignite firewood piled up next to them. My mother once warned us about the dangers of playing with fire, and that if that firewood was lit, it would start a fire. So, my brother and I always chose to play some distance away from the firewood.

On that day, we were also firing cannons at a distance from the firewood. We listened to the sound of the cannons and watched the firelight, and everything seemed so happy. Still, I could sense the potential danger. I know that we are playing with fire, and I know that we need to be careful and need to protect ourselves and our homes. This feeling made me a little nervous, but seeing my brother's happy appearance, I chose to remain silent.

The flames jumped out almost instantaneously, as if they were born out of nothing, and instantly turned the pile of dry wood into a raging sea of fire. I watched the dancing flames, and my heart beat faster, as if I had been struck with a hammer.

I know we didn't start the fire. Our guns were placed far enough away that it was impossible to ignite firewood. However, all this means nothing to the burning flame, which still dances and burns.

An indescribable fear welled up in my heart, and my mind went blank and I just wanted to get out of here. But the younger brother hurried to the bucket of water to put out the fire. His face was full of determination, and I was amazed by the determination on his face.

Grandma also immediately rushed to the burning firewood and hurriedly poured a bucket full of water to douse the fire. Her face was filled with panic, but the bucket in her hand was steadily sprinkled on the burning firewood. That scene struck me horrified, and I knew we were facing a fire that could burn down our home.

However, in this moment, I also saw courage. My brother's determination and my grandmother's decisiveness shocked me. It was an emotion I had never experienced before, and this fire made me realize the dangers of life.

Just as I stood there in a panic, a familiar figure appeared in the firelight. It was our friend's father, who, with a surprising calmness and determination, quickly tossed aside the firewood that had not yet been consumed by the flames.

His movements are fluid and decisive, as if he has been trained countless times.

With his help, the fire was gradually brought under control. Then, the flames were finally extinguished, leaving only a pile of piping hot ashes.

In front of all the guests, my brother and I were like children who had made a mistake, and we were harshly grabbed by our mother. I could see the seriousness and determination in her eyes, clutching a newly bought sorghum broom in her hand. Under the astonished gaze of the guests, she landed the broom on my brother and me's buttocks, each of which was as hard as if to knock out our wrongdoing.

The neatly arranged poles on the broom were broken one by one by the mother's strength. Mom didn't seem to care, she just pinched my brother's and my brother's inner thighs with her hands when she was tired. The pain was unbearable for me, and I tried to dodge, but my mother's hands always found me as if they had eyes.

Even though I knew I had made a mistake, I couldn't feel guilty. Instead, in the midst of that intense pain, I felt a sense of excitement. I don't know why, but I started laughing, and I burst into tears. My brother was like me, and he started laughing maniacally.

Mom's face was full of surprise at first, but when she saw the two of us laughing wildly, she couldn't hold back and laughed. Although there was tiredness and helplessness in her laughter.

After those days, my brother and I walked very carefully and avoided sitting as much as possible. Every time we tried to sit down, the red and swollen buttocks would emit bouts of pain that made us involuntarily stand up. Although it hurts, it is also a manifestation of my mother's deep love and care for us.

As for the cause of the fire, it has not been identified. We kept trying to find out what ignited the firewood, but all the clues disappeared without a trace as if they had been burned by the flames. My brother and I sometimes think that maybe it was an accident, a disaster for no reason.