Continuously

It was late at night.

In Qianjia or Wanjia, the lights in the windows are turned off one by one, the summer insects are sleeping in the shrubs and stones, and in the cracks of the red brick walls, there is a vibrating call, a rhythm in chaos.The stars are so bright, like the cheapest diamonds scattered on the black cloth.

A green-painted electric fan was connected to a long plug-in board, and the fan blades were whirling and whimpering against a bed in the corner.

A corner of the summer mat made of thin bamboo strips was rolled up, gently rubbing against the soles of the feet of the person on the bed, feeling like some unknown fern in the gully.

A round mirror with a big face was hung on the opposite window frame, reflecting the light from nowhere, like a moon disk.

Yao An put his hands behind his head, held the jade pendant around his neck in his mouth, and stared at the bright spot with vigor.

For the first time ever, he suffered from insomnia.

After closing his eyes and falling asleep for the umpteenth time tonight, Yao An spat out the jade pendant, cursed, dragged back the blanket at the end of the bed that was about to collapse, and jumped onto the ground barefoot.

After many years of precipitation, the soil has long stopped raising dust, no different from floor tiles, but it is extraordinarily cool, and the coolness slipped from the soles of Yao An's feet to the back of his head, which made him wake up even more.

Yao An stepped quickly to the window, and turned the round mirror outward with a "boom".

After that, he lay back on the bed, put the blanket over his head, and finally took a little rest before the first rooster crow cut through the morning mist.

Behind a mud house made of loess and red bricks, the sky is dimly glowing.The door in the middle is spread out on both sides, with an open mouth, and the hall is flat. On the left wall is a black and white photo of great-grandfather and great-grandmother. There is a white porcelain Guanyin statue, two red wax inlaid with tears, and scattered small fireworks and firecrackers, left over from the years.

The old house is composed of many rooms, and each room has its own front and back doors. The first room on the right has a big bed, and the remaining two rooms are almost deserted. They are filled with old things, old TVs and old refrigerators .

The three rooms on the left are more smoky. The room next to the hall has two beds, one horizontal and one vertical, with mosquito nets and without mosquito nets. The room with a TV behind it is a half-formal living room. A fire pit table, empty underneath.Next door was the kitchen, and the back door was now open.

Grandma came back from the back mountain with a basket on her back, which was filled with branches and fir leaves. She untied the basket from her back, squatted down with an "ouch", and was ready to pack firewood.A cat with mixed coats slowly walked over, scratched its paws on the back, and lay down on the spot.

It seemed exceptionally quiet this morning.

The old man went hiking again with his precious walnuts, and he didn't forget to make a pot of tea for himself, and there was another——

"Still sleeping, the sun is drying my ass!"

He didn't know if his butt was exposed to the sun or not, but Yao An's butt got hit hard, without showing affection at all.

"Ouch! Grandma!" Yao An didn't care about rubbing anymore, rolled up the blanket and rolled to the wall, and coquettishly said, "I'll sleep for a while."

Two minutes later, Yao An squatted under the eaves and brushed his teeth decadently with his bird's nest head and the first two dark circles under his eyes.

He was so sleepy that he almost swallowed toothpaste foam and water, and half of his clothes were tucked into his pants.Put the cup on the ground aside, took a handful of the stainless steel basin in the water tank, dazedly scooped up water to wipe his eyes, and rubbed his face vigorously twice.

Not far in front of the house is a concrete road in the countryside, which has been ruined to the point of disrepute. In a white house next to the road that looks similar to them, Kang Zi came out wearing that fluorescent red sports T-shirt again. Hugging his seven-month-old sister Xingzi, holding each move like a baby.

"Hey——" Yao An put his hand to his mouth, "You're caught——"

Kangzi raised his head when he heard the words, and deliberately put his little sister in his arms to protect him, and whispered something in her ear: "Here, Xingzi, I see, that is the bully of our village."

Yao An put down the towel, raised his right leg and kicked it on the mud rail - the terrain of their house is quite high, forming a condescending attitude towards the surrounding area - he clapped his palm on his right knee, and pointed at Kang Zi: "Don't think I don't know what you're farting! Sister, don't listen to him!"

One of the two voices was loud and the other high-pitched, and they were enjoying themselves while separated by a few paddy fields. The forest birds in the mountains flew away in shock, and every household knew that it was time for breakfast.

Yao An took advantage of the superior geographical location and the fact that he was not hindered, so he clenched his right fist and bent his left hand to hug his right elbow, baring his teeth and claws to provoke and demonstrate.

Kangzi hugged the person, his legs and feet were not easy to use, but he was unwilling to let the wind fall: "You are just jealous!"

"I'm jealous of your sister!" Yao An yelled with his hands on his hips.

"Yes, you are jealous that I have a younger sister!" Kangzi finished yelling, and suddenly rolled his eyes, "Wrong, wrong, of course you are not jealous, you will soon have a hahahaha..."

Yao An choked up, didn't answer, squatted on the ground, picked up a stone and threw it at him, but naturally he couldn't throw it, the stone flew halfway across the field and then fell lightly.

There was still the leftover noodle soup from the morning in the pot on the firewood stove. Yao An lifted the lid, and there was a little heat coming out. He filled a bowl and sat at the small table and ate it, mouth chattering.

After a satisfying burp, he stacked the licked clean bowl on two porcelain bowls, walked lightly to the hall, and rolled out his bicycle with a rear seat, which Yao Xinping bought for him during the summer vacation the year before last. , let him out for a while.

Kicking the pedal back, when he was about to sit on it, he inadvertently spotted a swing in the hall, which was made of a single wooden board, and the two sections were tied to the beam by hemp rope. Since he was over 1.6 Mi Wu, his grandfather tied the swing up, fearing that he would collapse the house.

Now, the swing was hanging down, whirling slightly in the draft.

He climbed the ladder to untie it himself yesterday afternoon.

Yao An gripped the handlebars with both hands, left the ground with one leg, did not sit on the cushion, kicked twice, stepped on the pedals and slid down a high slope in front of the house, passed a small bridge, and meandered along the direction of the stream and go.

The lush bamboo forests are criss-crossed, and amidst the greenery, a small white old house sits peacefully in it. It seems that even the scorching sun intentionally avoids this place, and enjoys a quiet and quiet place.

After a while, a straight line of wheel marks was smeared on the soil, and a few bamboo leaves that fell on the stone steps were blown away.

Yao An left his bicycle by the door, poked inside, and stepped into the threshold.

The curtains in the bedroom on the left were still closed, and there was a shadow in the room, so he jumped on tiptoe to the kitchen on the right. The bitter smell filled his nostrils, and a furnace of traditional Chinese medicine was simmering slowly.

Yao An walked over, picked up the bamboo fan on the side, and opened the door behind with a "squeak" sound after a few slaps.

Yan Huai'en was holding another smaller clay stove in his hand. He had just poured out the medicine residue in it. He was not surprised to see an extra person in the kitchen, and closed the door with his backhand.

"Finish?" Yao An glanced at the stove in his hand.

"Yeah." Yan Huai'en nodded, put the stove aside, and didn't rush to clean it.

"It's all gone again," Yao An said.

Yan Huaien smiled and didn't deny it.

Yao An raised his fan and poked him on the forehead. Just as he was about to teach him a lesson, Yan Huai'en turned around and picked up a small bottle, shaking it: "Let's eat meatballs."

Yan Muchun got up later than usual that day, and practiced calligraphy last night to the point of comfort, it is rare for people to be energetic when they are old, and wanted to keep their energy and energy for a while, so they stayed up all night without paying attention.

He walked and called a few times with his back supported. Yan Huai'en heard it, put down the half-drained Chinese medicine, and walked quickly to support Grandpa.

Yan Muchun raised his hand and stroked his grandson's waist-high head, sat on the bamboo chair in the hall, raised his eyes and said, "Yao An."

Yao An looked down, walked up to Yan Muchun respectfully, bent over, and obediently called: "Teacher Yan."

"How many times have I said it, why are you still calling me teacher?" Yan Muchun put his hands on the bamboo chair, his majesty still undiminished.

"Yan Gong...Yan, Grandpa Yan..." Yao An's tongue was fighting, and he couldn't shout.

"Go and help me warm up Grandpa's medicine." Yan Huai'en said.

Yao An glanced at him gratefully, agreed and ran to the kitchen.

Speaking of which, Yao An has not been afraid of Yan Muchun for a day or two.

Yan Muchun used to be a teacher in Anding Village Primary School, and was assigned to Yao An's class as the head teacher one year before his retirement.

Yao An has been known as a gangster since the first grade, because his father was away, his grandma didn't love him, and his grandpa said it's up to you, so he insisted on making a gesture in the quiet rural elementary school.

When he recommended the monitor on the first day of school, he stood up and said that I chose myself, and I won the first place amidst the applause of the whole class. The sound of their class.

Until the fourth grade, the gentle and tolerant female head teacher in Yao An's class was replaced, and a gray-haired but imposing male teacher walked in and reset a brand-new bamboo pointer on the podium. Dozens of noisy people in the class fell silent at the same time.

Yao An was sitting on the desk in the last row, stepping on the chair in the front row, and was taken aback when he saw Yan Muchun.

A few followers also looked at him, their eyes filled with an instigation called making trouble.

It's not that Yao An didn't feel the eagerness of the crowd, but Yan Huai'en was his childhood friend, and Yan Muchun was his elder who commanded everyone by his ears, so he had to save face for others!

In the end, Yao An waved his hand, turned around, sat down on his seat, and shouted loudly: "Hello, teacher!"

The whole class looked at each other in blank dismay, and quickly returned to their respective seats in a similar manner, saying hello to the teacher in unison.

In this way, Yao An and his class were divided for a long time, and under Yan Muchun's coercive teaching, they were even named and praised by the principal once.

But this is only temporary.

Yao An is a fiery boss, and he can't keep his playful heart away. On the surface, he listened to Yan Muchun's words, but he was still late when he should be late, and he was still overbearing when he should be late. Finally, in a Chinese class, Yao Anyun patted the table with his palm and successfully lifted After flipping through a large stack of Three Kingdoms cards, it was the first time Yan Muchun lost his temper.

Pointed at by the somewhat dirty pointer, Yao An still put the cards he won back into his pocket without blushing and heartbeat, completely unaware that his slap just now was louder than the bell for the end of get out of class.

"Yao An!" Yan Muchun was very angry, "Do you still want to study?"

"Teacher Yan." Yao An didn't change his face, "Studying is something that you can choose whether you want it or not."

The whole class laughed secretly, Yan Muchun's face turned greener, walked up to Yao An, and said sternly: "You always do this, does your family know?"

Yao An actually didn't want to start a confrontation with him, but Yan Muchun's words not only poked a thorn in him, he stood up abruptly, his chair fell back, and said loudly: "Yes! That's how I am! My grandparents, father... "

He paused for a moment, and then continued in unabated volume: "You all know that I am like this."

Yan Muchun's slap fell from a height.

Yao An closed his eyes, but there was no dull pain as expected on his face. A few seconds later, there was only a loud bang, and the whole class was in an uproar.

He opened his eyes in a daze, and found that the desk in front of him had disappeared, and he saw Yan Muchun standing by the corridor, looking downstairs.

Yao An gradually came to his senses.

He lost my desk?

He lost my desk!

This is the fucking third floor! ! !

Yan Muchun came back, and seeing that he was about to move the chair and schoolbag that he had fallen to the side, Yao An rushed to grab it, and the two dragged them all the way to the corridor.

"Mr. Yan, Teacher Yan, I was wrong! Don't touch my schoolbag!" Yao An knew that the matter was getting serious, and shouted while pulling it.

"Why do you need a schoolbag! You don't study!" Yan Muchun was still furious.

"I read! I read! I really read!"

Yao An hugged Yan Muchun and yelled so heartbreakingly, he looked desperately at the schoolbag and chair that Yan Muchun had already lifted into the air.

The schoolbag and chair shook tremblingly in the air, and finally they were pulled back by Yao An's sight, and they were placed firmly on the ground.

A farce finally subsided.

Yao An didn't dare to look at the wreckage of the desks downstairs, wiped his nose, took the surviving schoolbag, sat on the chair and listened to the class for a day, then squatted down and lay down on the chair to write.

Before school, he rubbed his sore knee and went home with a gray head, not knowing how long he would continue this twisted learning posture.

But the next day, his desk came back inexplicably. There were no missing arms or legs, just a few more nails and a few pieces of wood connected to support it.

Later, Yan Huai'en told him that Yan Muchun carried the broken table back home in a sack, repaired it all night, and carried it back to the classroom early the next morning.

Before Yan Muchun retired, Yao An never had any conflicts with him, but when he saw him, he felt a bit nervous reflexively, always thinking that he could throw himself out of the upstairs at any time.

Now too.

Yao An poured out the medicine, waited for a while and touched the wall of the bowl again, feeling that the temperature was almost ready to drink, and then held it in front of Yan Muchun respectfully.

Yan Muchun wiped his face with a hot towel, took the medicine bowl, and poured it in without frowning.

He stood up on the bamboo chair, and Yan Huai'en had to step forward to help him. He waved and said, "Talk", and went outside on his own.

Yao An relaxed in one breath.

The two of them went to the kitchen to steam the buns together, and sat on the small wooden stool to wait for the steam to come out of the pot. Yan Huai'en handed over to Yao An the Chinese summer homework that he had finished on the third day of the holiday.

Although he was one grade higher than Yan Huai'en, most of Yao An's homework was learned from Yan Huai'en since he was a child. He folded his homework book in half and put it on his trouser waist, and thanked him with a smile.

Yan Huai'en rested his hands on his knees and propped his chin: "It's so boring to be on vacation."

Yao An raised his finger from the ground, and an ant crawled on his nail. He teased it with great interest, and said, "Why are you bored, I'll take you to play."

Yan Huai'en shook his head: "Grandpa wants me to practice calligraphy."

"What about your grandfather..." Yao An fell silent in the middle of speaking, the Lord was still at home, so he didn't dare to be presumptuous.

"Hello, Yao An." Yan Huai'en suddenly turned his head.

"Ok?"

"Is your brother here today?"

Yao An shook his finger, and the poor little ant disappeared somewhere.

After staying at Yan Huai'en's house for a long time, Yao An didn't even go back for lunch. Although it would be terrible to sit at the same table with Yan Muchun, he didn't even dare to add more food.

While Yan Muchun was sleeping and Yan Huai'en was studying ink in the room, Yao An ran to the yard and broke a bamboo stick, imagining a wild dance in the yard, and finally took a leaf and lay down on the stone steps in front of the door, He raised his legs and squinted his eyes to enjoy the coolness.

"Yao An! Wake up! Wake up!"

Yao An's face was photographed several times.

"Fuck you!" Yao An swept over with his foot, hitting the center of his buttocks.

"Ouch!" Kangzi said aggrievedly, clutching his buttocks, "Your grandma is calling you back."

"What are you doing!" Yao An was still a little angry.

"Your father and the others are back."

"..."

Yao An spat out the leaves a few times, picked up his bicycle, and shouted as he ran, "Wynn, I'm leaving first!"

Kang Zi picked up the composition text he had dropped on the floor, patted it, and followed with a limp half of his buttocks.

The road in the afternoon was scorched to smoke, and there was still a faint burning smell when the rubber tires rubbed against the cement. Yao An rushed up half a slope in one breath, and finally exhausted his energy. He pressed the brake firmly before the tires slid backwards. .

An unfamiliar car was parked at the door of the house, with a sign he didn't recognize, the black paint was shiny, and the license plate hadn't been installed yet.

Yao An walked up step by step, his sweat was reflected on the reflective paper of the glass.

He wiped his forehead indiscriminately, and a few drops flowed into his eyes, which was very painful. He rubbed the corners of his eyes while walking around the car to the hall.

The moment Yao An stepped into the door, his footsteps stopped.

The right eyeball went through a lot of pressing, kneading and squeezing, and it was blurry. While waiting to focus, the small shadow in front of it gradually became clear.

A child sits on a wooden swing.

Two thick hemp ropes are clutched in delicate hands, which are not enough to completely wrap it, and the toes are hanging on the upper edge of the ground, swaying slightly with the thin body.

Sensing that the sunlight at the door was blocked, he raised his lowered head, revealing a pair of light-colored eyes, and a young but pale face, on which his facial features were placed like desserts.

Yao An stood where he was, and met that line of sight with a strange mood.

It was only for a moment.

Those eyes were quickly covered by jet-black and finely shattered forehead hair, without any attention.

Yao An felt that when he looked at himself, it was no different from looking at an object.