The Most Beautiful Old Village fireworks (Prose)

2022-04-28 0 By

Near the lunar New Year, my cousin called to say that these days to kill pigs, invited my wife and I back to the old village to eat pig feast.Killing pig is a custom of the New Year in northeast China. It is a big event in the process of busy New Year. It is not only a sacrifice to the old year, but also a prayer for the New Year, hoping that the next year will be better.Therefore, the scene and atmosphere of the pig slaughter have a sense of ritual and age.On the eve of the slaughter, the master would bring some more good food than usual to the pigpen, and then mutter like saying goodbye to old friends: old fellow, this is your last meal in the sun, eat more, and when you are full, you can report to the underworld tomorrow!Meet the host is a sentient beings, and even wipe a few tears.The master began to feed the little pig baby with a handful of grain in his left hand and a handful of bran in his right hand. It was a lie to say that he had no feelings.My cousin is afraid that I drive past rest is not good, the wine is not safe to drink, he drove a day early to pick me and my lover back to the old village.I haven’t been back to the old village since my uncle left.My wife, who grew up in the city and is now in her fifties, had no idea what it was like to be in the country at dawn and dusk, with the crowing of chickens and the barking of dogs.It was the coldest day since March 9th.Before we could warm up my cousin’s kang, my wife eagerly dragged me out of the house and out into the street — she said she wanted to see every nook and corner of the little village where I had been born and which I had described to her so many times before it got dark.All that afternoon, we seemed to forget the wind, which was nearly minus twenty degrees, as we wandered up and down the streets of the three villages, from east to west and from west to east.The sun, hidden in a gray cloud, seemed a little less shiny and bright.I followed the narrow streets again and again to find the imprint of childhood, while my wife was busy filming and recording small videos.My thoughts were constantly weaving and changing between memory and sight.No trace of the old village had been found at all. Only the three main streets and several narrow lanes in the middle of the village, like a burst of veins, made me feel that the soul of the old village was still alive.When I was a child in the winter, I like to run around in these streets, listening to the white snow in my feet issued a crisp “creak creak” and rhythmic sound.But now the same village streets have been replaced by smooth concrete pavements, so clean that there is hardly a trace of ice or snow.I remember in front of the old house, there used to be two very thick elm trees, like an old couple twine their branches and stems together, one of which hung two big speakers, there used to be the exclusive place for children to play and adults.Now the elms are gone, but a few telephone poles have been erected in their place, with two larger tweeters still hanging from them.I still remember that every summer, every family would plant a row of morning glory or peony flowers outside their wooden fence. When flowers blossomed, all kinds of flowers joined together to form a colorful flower wall, which was particularly beautiful.Now, in order to highlight the overall effect, every house is replaced by a neat iron fence, from a distance, clean and neat, but it seems to be missing something.On both sides of the village street were blue brick houses of the same color. Each house, no matter its size, had large floor-to-ceiling Windows, which were bright and elegant, just like a villa in the country.But there was so much solitude in such an imposing house that one might have mistaken it for an empty town, were it not for the occasional chicken prowling about in a yard, or for a dog on a leash suddenly barking unkindly at you.The atmosphere of Chinese New Year on the street has been much lighter than when we were young. Occasionally, someone walked by us, and many of them were raw faces. A few older people finally recognized me, and after greeting each other with surprise and enthusiasm, they walked separately.The wife happily took photos of everything she saw, constantly changing wildly exaggerated poses.To her, the lazy chicken, the dog in the yard, even the stump of a small tree are landscapes and selfie fodder.These magnificent houses are like the heavenly palaces in our childhood stories, inhabited by various gods and goddesses.However, the young people in the village are still coconut wind can not stop like ran to the city to buy a building.Every winter off season, they move to their home in the city to enjoy the comforts of city life.Tired of the silence of the country, they chased each other after the noise of the city;And we these so-called city people, but already do not want to bear from the work comes from the life comes from all sides of the pressure, want to break away from the reinforced concrete forest surrounded, to the remote countryside to seek the peace like paradise.The young people who had moved to the city would return to the village at the beginning of the spring, like migratory birds.Because the land they live on is still here.That piece of land is they can not leave can not abandon the soul, with this piece of land, just have their endless foundation.Year after year, they have jealously guarded the land like their parents.Occasionally, there are a few college students in the village who take the entrance examination as a nirvana. They flee from their hometown in a rush and abandon their land, but they become leaves separated from the branches, floating in the wind, and finally become visitors in a strange land.The clouds grew darker and thicker, and the sun, near the horizon, now looked fainter and more indistinct.Look like it’s cloudy.Perhaps there will be a snow tonight.At this time, I do not know whose roof chimney first rose a wisp of smoke, then one chimney after another smoke.The wife immediately excited, mouth can not help humming the song “see smoke again”.Indeed, we had not seen curling smoke in the city for many years.Orange lights were shining from someone’s window.The smoke rises, the lights are lit, and the village seems to have some popularity.The smell of wood, mixed with hay, was warm.To me, it was a lingering homesickness, but to my wife, it was a firework of life and soul.I didn’t have the heart to interrupt my wife’s enjoyment.She was still taking selfies, posing in front of the smoke behind her.At this time if not cousin to call us back to eat, I’m afraid hunger would have been thrown in the back of our minds.Warm kang, warm stove.My wife and I slept soundly that night.Vaguely, I heard a chicken crow in the courtyard, and I thought it would soon be dawn.Then the cocks in the neighboring yard began to crow, and then the cocks began to crow one after another in the darkness.Through the ice window on the glass, I vaguely saw someone shaking in the courtyard, and heard the sound of the snow – it should be early cousin cleaning the snow in the courtyard – last night really fell a snow.The cock’s loud crowing also roused his sleeping wife.Sleepily, I told her about my childhood.When the rooster crowed for the first time, I was in the thick of sleep.I will vaguely feel the side of grandma in the dark 㗭㗭 the sound of dressing, and then, grandma moved the brazier from the ground to the edge of the kang, with a shovel to the brazier upper floating ash to remove, the bottom of the fire immediately exposed red light.Grandma filled a bag of cigarettes, lit the cigarette pot at the bright fire in the brazer, and then in the dark ba 㗳 ba 㗳 flavor to suck up, the smoke in the cigarette pot also with grandma a suck a spit and a light.When the chicken croaked twice, grandma’s bag of cigarettes also finished, this time the genius just lit up.Feeling the darkness, she got down again and put up her little feet to prepare breakfast for the whole family.As we talked, we fell into a heavy sleep again.When we woke up again, we were awakened by a long and melodious cry of selling tofu in the street.The sun had not yet risen, but it was already broad daylight.The sky cleared, and a new layer of snow shone brightly outside.Cousin and sister-in-law had been busy outside the house, killing pig master was ready early, to help the neighbors sisters said laughing while cutting pickled cabbage in a large round basin.His wife, after a brief toilet, rolled up her sleeves and joined in their busyness.In the end is the village of simple, honest, not for a while, his wife will be with them thoroughly familiar, women’s hee hee ha ha sound incessant in the ear.A few of the neighbors jumped into the pigsty with deportment and surrounded the pig to be slaughtered. The pig, perhaps aware of the imminent death of the death of the knife, cried miserably one after another.Since I was a child, I could not see this bloody scene, so I went out of the courtyard alone.By the time I got back, it was three strokes in the day.The door was wide open, and the steam was spreading through it, and the water was boiling in the great iron pot.Kill pig master’s hand type is also really enough agile, only less than two hours of kung fu, put the pig clean.Now it’s time to add the meat to the pan.Without a bag of cigarettes, the aroma of meat kept coming.By midday, entrails like cooked chunks of pork and subjects like liver and blood sausage filled a large table.Everyone gathered around, and those sitting next to me were my children who had grown up in the village.Cousin is also well-intentioned.Just like the forbearing northeast people, the northeast pig feast is about benefits, lively scenes, harmonious atmosphere, the meat should be cut bigger and thicker, with a big bowl or basin, eat no more then add, cool and then go back to the pot to reheat, as long as we eat open heart and drink enthusiastically, the host will be more happy.Kill pig feast before the prior to the start of the first in the whole table people elected a “wine”, the master put a coarse magnetic sea bowl before long wine, pour in a bowl of wine, full master after opening, apex long up wine wine, to drink the first bite, and then the wine bowl to the next one, to be the second person drink in turn down again, a long drink to drink,Sip what you can’t drink with your lips.In this way, a big bowl of wine round a big circle to see the bottom.Keep refilling and start the next round.A mouthful of wine, a mouthful of meat, a few rounds down, someone began to arrange the dragon gate array, guessing boxing line wine order, until the atmosphere to a climax.The rules have changed a lot since then.For example, when pouring wine, each person will be placed in front of a thin magnetic bowl painted blue and white, no matter how much wine, the first bowl must be filled.Table long a command, the whole table people have to stand up, pick up the wine bowl in hand, each other hard to touch, a clear sound after the crash, have lifted the bowl to drink the first mouthful of wine, and then with chopsticks to clip a large piece of meat, with relish to chew.At this time if anyone stirred up a topic, we will follow up the kan, wine after three rounds, the topic will be more and more, from the domestic around to the international, from ancient times through the present and past, or singers and movie stars eight hang, more drink more excited, more said more excited.I chatted with several people about our past years and our childhood fun and embarrassing stories: picking vegetables on the mountain, hunting birds on the tree and fishing in the water.When it comes to childhood dreams, the idea is surprisingly simple — once a month, we can eat meat, even a small house finch leg.I haven’t had a drink like this in a long time.It was -17.8 degrees outside, but inside it was baking like summer, and it wasn’t long before our faces and bodies began to sweat.On a whim, they took off their shirts, stripped to the waist, and continued to drink.I drank until I was drunk that day.I couldn’t remember how long I hadn’t been this drunk, but I knew it was in my heart, not in my nerves.There is no occasion in the repression, there is no etiquette on the constraint, this is a complete exile to the heart.The world is full of vicissitudes.Rolling in the world of mortals, nothing can be more attractive and more warm than a bundle of plain ordinary fireworks flavor: the warm sun in winter, spotless winter snow, burning kang stove, and the friendship and family, as well as those who have no spiritual barrier induction and communication, and even your daily encounter and ordinary;No matter in the hometown or in a foreign country, no matter how, it is our heart and mind to chase the taste of the world and we have not seen the fireworks around.And that one of the warmest fireworks gas is actually in your my heart.Tong Xianhui, member of Heilongjiang Financial Writers Association, has published dozens of literary works in provincial and municipal newspapers and magazines as well as public platforms since 1986. He is now working in The Fangzheng Branch of Agricultural Bank of China in Harbin, Heilongjiang Province.