Flying over my hometown of maple and poplar

Until the early 1950s, my home area of Maple and Poplar was covered with rare poppy fields in the South. In spring, the fields on both sides of the river were invaded by scarlet, layered and charming, such as a barren red wave that stirred up the remote countryside and the bloody breath of life and death of my fellow villagers. My younger uncle was still in the countryside, saying that he was like a wild dog, haunted among the haystacks, poppy fields, dung heaps and obese women in his hometown, and did not want to go home. I often think of him a thousand miles away. I think of him sitting in the big red flowers of the old maple and poplar home. He is a small, dark country man facing the southwest city. He has a strange look of sleeping, laughing and scolding on his small face. He sings a lot of chaotic songs, including one calling his beloved dog.
Dog, dog, come on.
Take me to Hanyao to kiss my little girl
Grandfather lived in the city, old-fashioned, but his memory is bright. When dusk came, the house was filled with a long sigh from my grandfather. He was too late to go to bed. “Maybe he’ll wake up tomorrow and be blind.” So he sat in the darkening room with wide eyes, quiet and vigorous, like an old bronze eagle.
My uncle can be seen in the pupil enlarged by grandfather’s memory. Grandfather stirred up his youngest son and a pack of wild dogs. The former younger uncle was a ghost who loved to wear a sunshade cap for city people and wandered in the poppy fields in a strange way.
One summer, he threw his sunshade cap into the river and fell in love with a pack of wild dogs. So people all saw the young master of the wealthy man mixing with the wild dog all day long, crazy, non-human and non-dog, becoming a strange scandal in the Fengyuan village.
“That beast knows nothing about the world, only dog sex.” Grandfather cursed your uncle. He said, “Leave him alone and let him become a dog too.” My grandfather was sad to think of the ghost son. How many late-night uncles, full of vigor, followed by wild dogs, stumbled on the ridges of the fields, his footprints closely driving the dog’s pebble-shaped footprints, all over the Maple and Poplar Country corners. Sometimes my uncle broke into the villagers’house panting for water, and the dog barked loudly in the nearby field.
No one living along the river did not know Yao Shu. Speaking of Yao Shu, they all thought he was born by a God and ghost. They did not know whether it was good or bad that he brought Maple Poplar.
On the Qingming Festival, when the family members lined up in a single column and went to the ancestral temple to sacrifice their ancestors, nobody could find the figure of your uncle. Grandfather kowtowed angrily at his ancestor’s tablet and came across a dish of offerings. He hoarsely asked, “My ancestor is spiritual. Did the wild dog seduce my son, or did my son seduce the wild dog?”
Grandpa desperately foresaw that Uncle Youshu’s strange and abominable soul would travel out of the eternal wilderness.
Decades later, Grandpa sat under the roof of the city drowsy and polished the bamboo couch made of maple and poplar trees. He told his family over and over about Uncle Yao’s abandonment when the flood came that year. He said that a big white wood boat was full of forty people and property in his family. When he was about to start anchoring, Uncle Yao and the wild dog came to the shore one after another. My uncle asked, “Where are you going?” No one answered him, but many hands went to drag him aboard the boat, and he could not move for half a day. Then he found that the ghost had a long rope tied to his leg and was closely connected with a wild dog. When Grandpa jumped down to untie the rope, he scratched his face by shouting ghosts to break free. When Grandfather scolded his mother for looking for a big axe, Uncle Yi shouted at the dog in horror, “Leopard and Leopard are running away!” If the dog really sprang up, a rope tightened Uncle Yi. It was like two small beasts, one after the other rushed out of the hunter’s gun.
Grandfather raised his head and wailed, knowing that it was time for the boat to go and that the ghost boy should be lost.
“I can see the maple poplar tree, as long as my eyes are not blind, I can see the maple poplar tree every day.” Grandfather said that in his desolate heart, it was enough for the poppy to grow in large areas and let Uncle Yao and his dog trample through every moment.
My uncle died in the last years of the poppy blossom in 1956. His death was related to a dog, a woman and other unknown things. Since Uncle Youshu’s death, poppies have disappeared in the maple poplar countryside, where the black earth has grown crystal-clear pearl-like rice and brilliant gold-like wheat.
How many times have I flew over the distant hometown of maple and poplar trees in my dreams? I saw myself approaching a muddy Yellow River running across the East and west every day. I waded across the river to the left bank. The vast red poppy fields on the left bank rolled up a tornado of strong winds, which led me into the vague homeland of maple and poplar trees.
One day, in Fengyangshu village, white swaggers, and a gray haze rises from the roof of the house. There are many figures running around in the haze, crying and crying, the air is shrouded in the atmosphere of fear all day long, as if to reproduce the scene of flooded villages many years ago. Did I witness the disaster across mountains and rivers?
That day was my uncle’s black anniversary. The soul of the deceased uncle did not find a home and continued to sway around the village, making the quiet village disturbed. When my folks of Maple and Poplar trees went to their old house in the smoke of poppies for funeral, they heard a kind of bell-like echo in their ears. They seemed to see Uncle Yao sitting on the stone mill in front of the old house, one leg leaning over the other, his undulating big feet covered with dust, grass and dog dung, and his five toes stretched out boldly pointing to the sky. He smiled generously and gently, and a pair of knotty arms pulled viciously at the belfry of the old elm tree.
The dead man’s uncle knocked his own funeral bell. The sound came from heaven or the depths of the earth, which made the villagers shudder. They loved and feared your uncle. Many old people and women were so sad on the anniversary that they called softly to the sun, the moon, the stars, the mountains and plants, “Take him, take him.”
Once upon a time, in my hometown of Maple and Poplar trees, everyone had a spiritual plate made of Nanzhu cut high in the family housing since birth. After death, Lingpai burned and died, turning into a lucky bird carrying the deceased to heaven. After listening to my grandfather’s story about the spiritual cards, I know that you uncle is a unfortunate ghost who lost the spiritual cards. But no one can tell the secret. There is a legend that you uncle has been wandering in the village, disgracing the village rules. After a strange dream, the clan Prince ran to the river and tied a spiritual card with a stone and fell into the bottom of the river. There is also a story about the madwoman of Fengyang who sneaked into the clan house one day and stole your uncle’s spiritual card. One person went into the field to light a fire and burned your uncle’s spiritual card crazily, crying and laughing. 。 My grandfather never believed these legends. He stared at the ceiling with a sad eye and said to me, “Your uncle took the spiritual card himself. He sold the spiritual card to a fellow countryman who was afraid of death. He pinched the money and went to drink and engage in women. That must be the case.” He’ll do a lot of bad things when he’s fifteen or sixteen.”
But if my uncle’s spiritual cards are still standing in his house, I will fly to the distant hometown of Maple and Poplar trees and bring my uncle’s spirit back to the cities and relatives he has never visited.
My descendant of the Maple and Poplar Man will enter the Tongjia ancestral temple and meet the 91-year-old grandfather.
The old man’s house was built on the sunny mound, with no windows open, and a black doorway sucked me in. I was dizzy in a mouldy dark air. Subconsciously touching the lamp rope, wandering along the wall to explore, suddenly grabbed a bunch of dusty bamboo sticks. The bamboo stick was sinking terribly. I lost it and continued to bump into it in the house. At last, it hit my father-in-law’s face. It was very painful, like bumping into a hundred-year-old tree.
Then a flame rose in front of him. My 91-year-old husband raised the candle. There is no light in his room. I saw the sacred and detached face of the old man by candlelight. He was naked, naked, old and vigorous. His eyes burst with a blue flame younger than mine.
What are you looking for?
Tell me where your uncle’s spiritual plate is.
I don’t know when I lost it. If you lose the spiritual medal, you can’t find it.
The clan Prince smiled kindly to me over the candlelight. And I flipped around in distrust among the bamboo sticks. I could smell the growing smell of poppies in the house. I could see that the walls were crowded to see the spikes of dried poppies. Even the old man himself turned into a huge poppy, suffocating the peaceful rural air. I found sweat all over my head and saw the names of all the Maple Poplar people in the bamboo stick pile, including the names of my grandfather and father, and mine, except for my uncle’s spiritual card.
Who stole my uncle’s medal?
When I asked the old man loudly, I saw his face gradually disappearing into the darkness. He took a gentle breath and blew out the candle in his hand and drove me out. I wandered down the mound at a loss. I would search for my uncle’s last trace in Fengyangshu’s hometown. With my sensitivity to my uncle’s black rubber shoes, I will smell him mixed with the smell of sweat, stench and stench.
Black rubber shoes are produced in factories in our city. On his sixtieth birthday, Grandpa saw a torrential rain outside the window. He suddenly remembered what he had done and went to the street to buy those black rubber shoes. The rubber shoes were wrapped in oilcloth and sent to Uncle Maple Poplar for thousands of miles. They were the only gift Grandpa had ever given to you.
It is said that the first time you put on your black rubber shoes is on the ghost’s day in July and a half. Ghost Festival in the area of maple and poplar do not know when it evolved into a festival of burning flowers. Every time the elders who stayed in their hometown recalled the past of the Burning Flower Festival, they made me feel like a fairyland. They said Uncle Youshu was standing next to an ox cart in black shiny rubber shoes. The cart was packed with dried poppies and ready to go. The cow’s whole body was covered with peanut oil and poppy pollen, which were sprayed with fragrance, and was beautifully bound to the car. Uncle Yi raised the bamboo whip. They said that it was the most beautiful time in the village. He stumbled on the seat of the car, hit the cow belly two times gently with big black rubber shoes. A car of big ghosts and small ghosts followed Uncle Yi. Under the clear sky and blue sky, twists of fire burned, and a dark red smoke rose from the cattle cart, running like a cloud in the field. Behind Uncle Yi, the ghosts and ghosts in the fire turned into dried flowers, buds and leaves, and they all stirred up excitedly. The field was filled with sharp and magical ghost voices. People heard Uncle You laughing happily. Before the fire of sending ghosts licked his back, Uncle You sang and shouted as if he were a god.
Every year my uncle acts as a ghost-giver, which seems to be the only thing he would like to do in his hometown of Maple and Poplar. Later, they said, when the cows saw the black rubber shoes, they cried out, “The cow’s eyes look at the people.” My uncle’s two black rubber shoes like two peaks of disaster oppressed the nerves of the cows. He often tells people that he hears cows cursing him when he walks through the bullpen. You uncle can’t die well. That’s what maple and poplar cattle say.
The old cows who sent ghosts appeared in my dreams many times. I saw many cattle die under Uncle Yao’s buttocks. The animals were stunned by poisonous fireworks and mad by the atmosphere of ghost festival. One bull finally broke free from his uncle’s bondage, escaped the ghost of flowers and flowers, and finally waded across the river of maple and poplar trees. I tried to imagine the bull’s flying image, hoping that it would escape all the disasters, and I wanted the bull to wear a pair of giant black rubber shoes.
My grandfather had predicted that you would die under the hoof of a cow. He had a vague feeling in his heart that the black rubber shoes given to you would become a disaster and attract a lot of jealousy. In 1956 came the news of the death of my uncle in the countryside, saying that he had died in the river of his hometown. When he died, he was naked and had a pair of black rubber shoes on his feet.
I was just born in 1956. I am a beautiful and quiet baby. But in my memory, I clearly witnessed the night of the wake.
The sound of autumn cicadas floated in the moonlight, and the stone mill of the old house surrounded the dark watchman. Silent people stand like peaks. Many old people, women, children and men are scattered around to protect a lotus heart, my dead uncle.
I heard a snow-white boy knocking on bamboo bangles. Every time he burned an incense, he knocked six or thirty-six times. Thirty-six bamboo bangles gradually deepened the night.
I slept in the cradle, crying, immersed in a simple sorrow from family. I saw my uncle drowning for the first time. He was blue and wide-eyed, lying next to the huge stone mill in his hometown. The spiritual field is thousands of miles away from me, and seems to be situated on the edge of my cradle. My little life passes through the surroundings of people and animals in the maple and poplar homeland, flushing and breathing. The river that drowned my uncle was exposed to my eyes, the river was whispering in the moonlight, and the poppies that could not be seen on the left bank fluctuated with the wind, surging with infinite scarlet desire. A solemn and stirring atmosphere of life and death permeates the whole world, and I am moved by something deep and heavy, staggering from the cradle and crying loudly at the moon outside the window. My grandfather and my parents and brothers came running in panic and saw me standing in the cradle crying like a drunk, with a pure tear in my eyes getting brighter and brighter.
Did I see Yao Shu’s spirit floating from the river, fluorescent all over, floating from the left bank of the river to the right bank? Did I foresee that Uncle Youshu could not cross the turbulent Yellow River and saw the harmony and unity between the dead and the world in fear?
For years I’ve been trying to find my uncle’s drowning witness, the mad woman Spike and the wild dog. Grandpa remembered that Uncle Yao was very watery and would not drown even if he tied a piece of iron around his neck. So what skill does a mad woman have to toss her eel-like uncle to death? According to Fengyangshu villagers, they did not expect your uncle to be drowned in the river. Later, a mad woman climbed ashore wet all over, holding a black shiny black rubber shoe in her hand, they learned of the accident. People were sunning flowers and seeds in the courtyard, and nobody paid attention to the movement of the river. Only uncle’s wild dog could see everything clearly. The dog saw the long splash of water in the river and the naked shadows of a couple of men and women, such as fish, silent. Nobody heard the dog barking. They said that if I were to fly to the hometown of Maple and Poplar trees, it would be a quiet noon overlooking them. But I vaguely feel that the death of your uncle is a big conspiracy of the world. I remember that.
In the three days and three nights of Fengpaoshu people’s watches for your uncle, the crazy woman’s ears appeared in the vicinity of the Lingchang Stone Mill wearing hemp and filial piety. Her hair was scattered, she was dementia, and she had a strange and beautiful look on her face. She knelt beside Uncle Yi’s body and gazed warmly at the sapphire-like face of the deceased. Spike’s half-body was buried in the paper money all over the ground. A night breeze suddenly blew loose the paper line. The watcher saw that her left foot was bare, but her right foot was wearing my uncle’s black rubber shoes.
Another black rubber shoe is missing. I don’t know when that pair of black rubber shoes on Uncle Yao’s feet escaped from his muddy feet and ran away.
I’ve heard some stories about crazy women spikes. In the area of maple and poplar trees, many men carry ears into poppy bushes in spring and enjoy themselves at midnight in the field. Men pat their abundant breasts and run back home, leaving ears sleeping alone in the waves of poppy flowers. People who go down in the morning often bump into the naked sleeping state of spikes. She was facing the sunrise, her lips were slightly opened, and innumerable crystal dewdrops were penetrated deep into her body and mind. From a distance, the ears lying in the poppy fields in the morning seemed like a rudderless boat drifting in the scarlet waves on the left bank. I’ve heard that crazy women get pregnant every two years. No one knows the birth date, but she says that whenever she crawls to the river after her blood bag breaks, the baby falls into the water and drifts downstream. The babies were extremely beautiful, but their cries were as bleak and melancholy as the old man’s.
In the villages downstream of the Fengyangshu River, some children who came along the river grew up slowly, like the joints of millet, filled with primitive juice. Those dark and dirty children have vivid faces and agile limbs, which have appeared in my dreams many times. I feel in a trance that they resemble my dead uncle. They may be the crystallization of the dead uncle’s blood and seeded into the black earth at will to grow and bear fruits.
I’ll meet that wild dog my uncle keeps on the riverside road. I heard the dog’s footsteps following me, and I heard the stench of his fur pounding at me more and more. I squatted down and looked back at it angrily. The wild dog was huge and cunning. His forelegs were lifted like hands, and his hind legs were lifted to make human movements.
I saw the dog’s back covered with scarlet poppy petals, and even the eyes were smoked into two agate stones.
My uncle was intimate with wild dogs in his lifetime. Dogs often come up to uncle’s lean belly and shout when he is sleeping. I think that wild dog is like a prostitute who hangs around with his uncle all day, drags him down and drags him into the river of death. I lifted a stone and confronted the dog for a long time. When I lifted the stone above my head, a sad cry from the deep of the dog’s throat crept into the poppy field and disappeared.
You Shu You Shu Quickly Kill Dogs
Kill the wild dog and come home with me
When I was chasing the wild dog along the river, I really remembered the poems I sent to my uncle when I was eight years old. That day I looked in a hurry, like a headless fly colliding randomly in my hometown of Maple Poplar. I will see the dead uncle’s soul shining white across the front, and lead me to complete my unrealized home trip.
Along the way, I will see strange scenery scattered on both sides of the river. When my grandfather trampled on the tung oil water truck when he was young, it twisted and twisted. A man and a woman stood in a water truck left by their ancestors. The water in the canal remained as if it were ice. At the end of the field, a black cow fled desperately. A large swarm of wasps gathered in the air, buzzing after the black cow’s decaying horns, and gradually returned to the river. When I went to the left bank of the river, I saw with my own eyes the ears of mad women in mourning and filial piety. She wore a black rubber shoe and walked step by step towards the water. When the water had passed through her bulging abdomen, the beautiful face of the spike raised to the sky and suddenly pressed against the clavicle, dropping its hair to the surface of the water. She clutched the long strand of hair tightly and rinsed it in the water again and again. A lot of red bubbles appeared on the surface of the first ripple, and gradually half of the river turned red.
Everything will be familiar, as I have dreamed in my city home.
Only my dark, stout, thin and homeless uncle, whose ghost in black rubber shoes has disappeared, is he smiling or crying? My uncle!
On the eighth day of the eighth month of the eighth lunar month in 1956, the day before my uncle was buried, the villagers in the distant hometown of Fengyuan were talking about the dead man who had lost his spiritual plate. Dead people without spiritual cards are not allowed to enter the tomb. The villagers toured the village’s houses and fields, searching for the skirts of all the women who had been with you uncle. The Nanzhu Ling brand was still missing. The village became a mess of porridge. The deceased uncle lay on the stone mill and endured the riots he had made. The bamboo stick suddenly fell to the ground and cried loudly when the watchman boy knocked out the bamboo stick at three shifts. He shouted wildly that his uncle opened his eyes after his death. His eyes were like the buds of poppies in spring. There was a woman and a dog in the buds.
People say it’s women and dogs that get into Uncle Yi’s eye. My grandfather said the same thing.
On the last night of the wake, my grandfather heard the boy’s cry across a thousand miles, when he buried his head and carefully cut a bamboo stick, which was exactly like the stack of spiritual plates in the ancestral hall house, and then engraved his name with a knife. After all this, he laughed and choked, then slowly climbed from a ladder to the top of my building. Grandfather stood on the roof overlooking our city, like a wizard, crazy, nonsense, tormented the roof for a long time. Pedestrians who passed downstairs said they saw ghost fires. They flew down from the roof of my house and stopped on the street. They flared and flared up a foot high blue flame.
The incense of ghost fire is incomparable, singing and dancing freely on the cement pavement, burning a whole dusk.
Take your uncle home
My grandfather sat on the bamboo couch brought by the maple and poplar home in the spring of the year before last and was dying. My uncle, who had been dead for many years, was tossing and turning in the old man’s confused thoughts. Grandfather was unable to stop. He pulled my sad head to his chest desperately and quietly told me to take my uncle home.
Eventually, I will fly over the distant hometown of Maple and Poplar and complete the unfinished business of three generations of my family. But no one ever told me why the red poppies planted on the left bank of the river are so reckless and pale, and why they are like the life and death of the Son of Man, but they no longer exist today. When I fled my old maple and poplar home with my old uncle who had been abandoned for many years, I would see the old poppy fields again. It’s going to be a muggy night. The moon falls every minute. It’s a boiling moon, which can almost burn us.
The dark red night stream of my hometown, together with the night tide of poppies, surrounds the fugitives at night. How many grey frogs have stepped on the soles of my feet, and the grey frogs are muttering and screaming and running frantically along the ridges with us.
I will hear the voice of people in the village boiling, the lights flashing, the dogs rushing out, the villagers chasing me to seize the soul of my uncle who was born in Stuart. The old dog left by you uncle is swimming out in the field. Its eyes, which are made of immortals, are shining like meteors piercing the night sky and pouncing at us quickly. The sound of human voice, dog voice and natural voice chase me. The hot moon falls down and perches on the quiet and peaceful black face of the deceased. My relatives on my back will be a volcano for thousands of years.
On my night of flight, a mad woman gave birth to another baby far away. Everyone will hear the desolate and melancholy cry, which contains the vicissitudes of life of the maple and poplar homeland for thousands of years. Can I cross the narrow land on the left bank and the river in the voice of life?
Under the roof of our city are many families who migrated from the countryside in the past. They snore unevenly every night. Everyone has his own thoughts and dreams. If you are like me, you have weird dreams when you urinate, you will dream about your homeland, your family and relatives. There is a river born, you seem to be sitting on a bamboo raft downstream, looking back at the distant home.

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