Xia Ming

this is the fourth summer vacation of Muhai.

Summer afternoon. The streets are full of people, and Mu Hai is walking along the winding streets in slippers. The beads of sweat on his head fell to the ground with big beads, patting. The sun passed through the thick sycamore leaves, mottled on the walls on both sides of the street, rickety, steaming like evaporation. Accompanied by the hustle and bustle of cicadas, I do not know where to hide in the summer.

the name of this street is very funny. It is called Fengyou Temple. But there is neither a Phoenix nor a temple here, only sycamore trees that block out the sun stand on both sides of the street, extending to the innermost part of the alley. But not far away, there is a nunnery, the nunnery is very small, there are no nuns, there are no old nuns or little nuns, only a group of bald monks.

Muhai has never seen them chant sutras and chime, nor do they recite Buddhas. During the 15 days, the monk would move a table and sit in front of the temple, with money boxes and scriptures on the table. His bald head was shining brightly by the sun. When he saw someone coming forward, he was busy chanting the holy names, shaking his bare head, and calculating the cause and effect of the third generation. After a while, the divination enquirer got up and kowtowed three times toward the Buddhist hall, where there were also monks who chanted the Nanwu Amitabha Buddha and then struck the chime three times after the caller had finished the incense. The faint sandalwood drifted away from the nunnery, and Muhai liked to smell it, like an eroded old smoker sniffing a few mouthfuls. I don't know why people always burn incense. Maybe the Bodhisattva is kind and pessimistic, and the Bodhisattva loves the smell as much as he does.

Muhai envies being a monk, neither having to attend classes nor going to work every day as an adult. On ordinary days, he would probably hide in the house, suck in a popsicle and blow an electric fan to watch TV.

-- huh. I want to be a monk when I grow up.

-but if you become a monk, you can't eat meat and get a wife.

Muhai thinks of the girl at the same table, with warped ponytails and big shining eyes. A smile hung with a smile nest, shallow, braided, eyes narrowed like a crescent moon, Mu Hai felt slightly dizzy, crisp, the little mind of Mu Hai was disturbed with the faint sandalwood.

the place where Fengyou Temple goes up is called Hualu Beigang, which is a long slope, very straight. The school of Muhai is on this slope. The name of the school is also Fengyou Temple Primary School. Obviously in Hualu Beigang, it is called Fengyou Temple. Muhai did not understand, and he did not know why it was called Beigang, but he had never seen Donggang, Nangang, and Xigang.

Natural Muhai can't tell the difference between east, west, east, and west. Whenever someone asks, Mu Hai will stretch out his finger toward the school.

-- well, that's north.

to the south of the school, there was a small wild pond, and there used to be a small dirt hill. There are several families scattered to the west of the Tushan. A few Reed chickens raised by no one have no circle, pacing around the front and back of the house all day, looking down to pick up locusts, earthworms, and bracts in the soil. A few local dogs, staring obliquely with their tongues out, lay lazily in the middle of the road all day. No cars were passing by, and their owners were not worried, so they stood in the way. Everyone in the past had to meet each other first, barking wildly when they were disagreeable, and some bold teenagers threw stones at the local dogs, who barked and refused to give way. But disturbed those Luhua chicken, a lot of "cackling" running around.

adults call this Hu's garden, and so do the children. But there is no family surnamed Hu here, let alone a garden-a mountain bag overgrown with weeds, but the top of the mountain is like the head of a monk in a golden millet nunnery, with several unknown trees standing askew and their roots intricate out of the soil. Among them, there was an old tree with a black and scorched trunk, mostly hollowed out, but with thick branches and leaves. Adults all say that the tree was struck by lightning and survived the robbery. Muhai didn't know what the robbery was, but he thought the old tree was too ugly. Even so, people still like to come here to enjoy the cool. Muhai often follows adults to the wild pond to catch tadpoles, and when he is lucky, he can catch several. Put it in a plastic bag and put it in the fish tank after going home. The head was big and black. Mu Hai held his head and stared in front of the fish tank.

Muhai is also coming here today.

sometimes they come here secretly with their school playmates, which is naturally forbidden by adults, but children always go against it. But Muhai only dared to stand cautiously at the edge of the wild pond and watch his playmates climb the dirt hill from a distance. He was afraid of the dogs on the road, and those dogs always seemed to know that the herding sea was afraid. once they met their eyes, they barked wildly toward the herding sea, and it ran, too, and the herding sea could not run, and he dared not go outstanding in the same place. He stopped running, continued to bark at Mu Hai, and did not bite him. Mu Hai dared not pick up pebbles and throw the dog like other children and looked at each other weakly until someone came out to call the dogs away.

in the wild lotus pond in early summer, the green water glowed with white light from the sun. A few loti leaves stood alone in the water. The good lotus canopy had long been picked off, leaving those Wuyan bitten by worms hanging in the same place. A few dragonflies clicked on the lotus leaves from time to time and jumped up again, and the lotus leaves shook their heads gently, causing small ripples.

without adults, Muhai did not dare to fish for tadpoles, so he had to count the steps. Even if he fell, he would not fall into the position of the pond. He squatted down carefully and concentrated on finding ants.

ants in summer seem to be busier than usual. Moutai is looking for big African ants. This kind of ant is very big, very black, and has a pair of pliers on its head. It's Asia, but there are a lot of African ants. Moutai feels strange, but he never says it, because everyone yells like that, and even adults will say, well, big African ants.

the adults have said that, of course, it can't be wrong. Maybe the black ones are from Africa. Mu Hai thought of the dark-skinned students in the class and was called African by the students. But the little tadpoles are not from Africa, but the pond is so big, how do they get here black cats and dogs? Is it also an African dog, an African cat?

Muhai can't figure it out.

Muhai has several lead pipes containing fine lead, and students are very popular to use automatic pencils. The word is broken, press the butt of the pen, and the lead comes out of the pointed head again. Muhai poured out a tube of fine lead and carefully inserted it into other lead pipes. The spare one was especially used to release the captured ants. Sometimes you can tuck a locust with a small head, and when you're lucky, there are seven-star ladybugs and crickets. The praying mantis has thorns, but Mu Hai dares not catch it. He locked them all in lead pipes and secretly released one of them to play for a long time when he was reading at night. Ants usually don't end well in the hands of boys. They have too many things to torture ants: rulers, erasers, pencils, pencil boxes, or pour water on the table and let the ants swim in until the ants stop moving. Grab another one out of the lead pipe.

but it's summer vacation. Muhai no longer has to read books at night and doesn't bring a lead pipe. He looks at the ants crawling about on the ground, smacks his lips with sighs, and puts out his fingers over the ants. The ants are frightened and rush about on the soft loess.

Muhai is a little happy, the boy is always a little cruel, he picked up a twig on the ground, the sharp end is still forked, connected with a tender green leaf, swaying slightly in the wind. Muhai supported his knee on his wrist and followed the ant step by step. as soon as the ant turned around, he messed up the route with twigs until the ant climbed back into the cave.

Mu Hai was very happy. He held the branch to the ant hole and cluttered the bucket. Inside, the big ants, small ants, and half the big ants all ran out in panic. Ah, a lot of them could not be stabbed. Haha, that's funny. Muhai squatted down, holding his head, and looked at the ants who were forced to move and were in a state of panic.

there were many mosquitoes by the pond. When the herding sea was in a trance, the mosquitoes avenged the ants. For a while, the arms, faces, calves, buttocks, and eggs of Muhai were covered with red mosquito bags, scratching and scratching. I wish I had a few more hands. The poisonous sun shines wantonly on the body, and the sweat soaks into the scratched mosquito bag, which is hot, ah, even more painful.

Muhai hurriedly stood up, threw the twigs into the pond, turned, and ran out of the pond. The ants are saved.

there are no trees in the flower hills, and the big sun shines so straight on the long slope that people can't keep their eyes open. Sweat fell to the corner of the eye, tears were immediately soaked out, Mu Hai grinning squinting their eyes, a closer look, snot also dragged out. Muhai scratches the belly of his calves then scratches his back and walks back slowly. The slippers are a little bit, and his toes always stumble forward a little to the ground, stick to the hot ground and then suddenly retract.

-- Muhai, how did you cry?

the timid voice stopped Mu Hai. Mu Hai sucked his nose hard, opened his eyes, and looked forward, the small broken flower skirt swaying in the breeze, the curved crescent moon, the shallow dimples, the big black eyes dipped in a light, looking forward.

Muhai felt his face a little hot, his little heart pounding and his palms sweaty.

Muhai was a little confused and bowed his head hurriedly. The head is low, the snot drips down, and the glittering reflection of the sun reflects the ripe red face of the pastoral sea. It dripped on the hot oil road and printed a small black dot.

Muhai Salyazi ran forward, and he heard his name called behind him.

the sound is crisp, blowing into the ears of the herd sea along with the wind, and drifting to the heart again.

when he went down the slope, Muhai gasped, glanced back timidly at the slope, glanced again, but did not follow. Muhai was a little reassuring, a little annoyed, and a little lost.

Muhai didn't want to go home, so he wiped his nose and shook his slippers-- the pebbles were brought into the shoes when he was just running.

he went straight ahead. The place in front of him is called Tofu Fang. Although not every household makes tofu, it does sell tofu. So the name is much more reliable than Fengyou Temple. But in the view of Muhai, there are so many place names in such a small place. The teacher asked in class, where do you all live? some say, Fengyou Temple, some say Jin Su Nunnery, some say tofu workshop, some say flower dew post, some say come to Fengli. It's almost like bringing together students from all over the country, but in fact, everyone lives not far away. The place name is troublesome. Why can't everyone's home be the same place name? Muhai doesn't understand.

the street of Tofu Square is a small vegetable market. the vegetable stalls on the floor are crooked along the side of the street, and the narrow road in the middle is for people to walk. People who sell fruits, vegetables, slippers, fish, chickens and ducks, fans, and Muhai always go to the fish and duck stalls to watch. Listen to the duck quack and stretch its neck, which is ugly but funny, nodding its head forward, like the school doorman who always dozes.

when someone comes to buy fish, Mu Hai stares intently, watching the big fish being fished out, crackling his tail, Mercury splashing everywhere, and the fishmonger pressing hard on the scaling pole, holding the support of the other end with his hand, shaking the rope in his hand from side to side, "one jin, four taels!"

Muhai has never seen the steady movement of the two sides of the scale bar, but the adults don't seem to care, and they start to make a counteroffer after looking covetously at the scale bar.

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the people who sell fish and those who buy fish bargain endlessly.

Muhai listens attentively, thinking about who lost and who earned, but who lost? Muhai doesn't know why everyone is so unhappy about buying fish, why bargaining money can't even afford a pencil, but everyone is still so persistent. Muhai always doesn't understand.

the sun slanted to the west, reflecting a brilliant red.

Mu HaiSlowly walking in the direction of home, every household is drifting with the smell of choking lampblack, smell it carefully, and it is very fragrant. As wisps of cooking smoke overflowed in the sunset wind, it disappeared.

when he came to the courtyard, Muhai glanced up the slope, some blamed himself, and snorted fiercely at the front.

the starry sky was bright, and on the eaves of the two-story cabin opposite the window, gray bats scraped the eaves and flew back and forth looking for food. The windowsill glowed with silver in the moonlight.

Muhai lies on the mat, the bedside fan shakes his head left and right, and a cool breeze blows.

-if you were an adult, you would be able to go to Hu's garden by yourself, and the dog wouldn't dare to chase me.

-but how long will it take? it's good to be a monk when you grow up. You can't eat meat.

-if you don't give me meat, I'll eat it secretly without being seen.

-- what to do if you can get a wife.

-- Why am I running today? it's exasperating.

Muhai thought of the black eyes, the small broken flowers in the wind, and the intoxicating dimples.

my heart becomes itchy and crisp again.

the cool night wind blew through the screen window to Muhai's sleeping face.

the cicada is still squeaking.

on that summer night.