"Okay, just dial slowly. The old farmer came over and sat down.

The two of them sat on the wooden verandah in front of the house, facing the farmland, with a dustpan under them, and plucked the rice in their hands one after another.

"It's been nine years, and you're still used to it, right?" asked the farmer.

Fu Yueming took a grain of rice and nodded: "It's good." ”

"That's good. The farmer also nodded, and picked up a wooden bucket, in which was a roll of something that looked like grass but not grass.

He struck two stones on a handful of straw, and a spark was made, and the straw burned, and he put the roll of grass on the fire and burned it, and when it was burning, he blew out the straw.

put it in the wooden bucket, held it in its mouth, smashed it, highlighted the clouds, and showed a pleasant expression.

Fu Yueming looked at this scene and smiled, although he had watched this action for nine years, he always felt funny every time he saw it.

"Every time I make this, you laugh, is it that funny?" The old farmer's eyebrows were facing each other up and down, looking at Fu Yueming strangely, and his mouth kept smashing.

"Well, it's funny, but I can't say it. Fu Yueming took a few more grains of rice.

The air fell silent for a moment, and the farmer looked at the sky, quietly thinking about something.

"Fu boy, who the hell are you?"

"Ordinary people. ”

"Is it okay to put it another way, how can someone who falls from the sky be called an ordinary person?" the old farmer gave him a blank look.

"What's that called? Flying man? Didn't I talk about it for so long, and the wind blew. Fu Yueming shrugged helplessly.

"It wasn't so windy that day, you just tell the old man the truth, after nine years, old man, who am I, you still can't believe me?" said the old farmer, patting him on the back.

"Old man, you said that I don't know how to spell or cultivate, you told me that if it wasn't blown by the wind, then how could I go to heaven?" Fu Yueming dialed the last straw and looked at the old farmer.

"Eh, okay, okay, if you don't want to say it, don't say it, wait until you want to say it, tomorrow I will go to the mountain with me to chop some firewood, rest early, call you when the meal is ready, eat meat today." The old farmer propped himself up, took the last bite, shook the wood, and left.

A smile appeared at the corner of Fu Yueming's mouth: "I haven't opened meat for a long time, and I don't know what meat tastes like." ”

Lift the dustpan and put it down in the house.

He picked up a chaise longue, went to the other end of the house, laid it down against the river, lay down on the chair, covered his face with a hat, and fell asleep.

The sun sets, and the moon rises.

The cooking smoke is swirling, and the meat is fragrant.

Fu Yueming opened his eyes, grabbed the hat, and a bright moon shone on his face, he just lay down and watched.

He stretched out his hand, shook it, and released it again.

couldn't help but let out a wry smile: "I want to go back too.. But I can't go back. I can't go back... Now it's just a waste."

"Fu boy, the meal is ready, let's get meat, today I went to get two pots of good wine, let's take two bites!" a voice came from the room.

Fu Yueming listened, moved the recliner back to the room, and came to the table and sat down.

White rice, steamed fish, braised beef, braised peanuts, and a bowl of bone broth.

"So hearty?!Is this still the usual time to eat Chinese cabbage, what's the matter?" Fu Yueming looked at the dishes on the table with a surprised expression.

"This year's harvest, of course, you have to eat better, don't talk about coming and coming, take a sip first. With that, the old farmer raised his bowl.

Clang!

A crisp collision spread, and the two drank it all.

The candle flame illuminates hundreds of homes, and this one too.

The joy of a good harvest fills the warmth in this small county.

The two of them drank until late at night.

Fu Yueming didn't drink much, but the old farmer was drunk.

He hugged the jar of wine, and his mouth kept muttering.

"I'll tell you. Tutor.. Fu boy.. If my son is still ... Still .. It's not the same as you... It's almost big.." The farmer said.

Fu Yueming listened.

Suddenly, he sat down in his chair and looked up and spoke.

"I want to send him to a private school and learn something... Meritorious name.. Get yourself a good daughter-in-law.. So my wife and I died without regrets... Wife... Are you listening? Huh, can you help me find our son? I'm too tired to look for it alone.. It's so tiring .." From the corners of the farmer's eyes, a line of tears flowed.

His eyes were closed, and his hands were waving.

Fu Yueming looked at the front of him, usually always silent, and the old farmer who took care of everything by himself couldn't help but be touched in his heart.

"There are too many poor people, the world is so big, when will we be able to bear so much sorrow? Life is easy, life is easy, if life is added up, it is difficult to survive... All living beings are ants in the world..."

got up, helped the old farmer to the bed and lay down, Fu Yueming cleaned up and came outside the house.

Negative hands, now he is no longer green at nineteen o'clock, the corners of his mouth are stubble, his hair is a little unkempt, he is wearing plain clothes, wearing a pair of cloth shoes, holding hands, looking at the bright moon in the sky, leaving a trace of melancholy.

"Xin'er, if I can still find my cultivation, I will go and plead guilty to you. ”