A firefly flew into my dream, appearing and disappearing by the well and in the grass in the dark night.
I followed it quietly, with light steps. As time seemed to stand still, the firefly disappeared into the grass. Was this a game it played with us? I stopped in that moment, squatting there woodenly, mouth half-open, wanting to shout but unable to, one hand supporting my cheek, the other reaching into the grass where the firefly was hiding.
His eyes showed hesitation and disappointment, but there seemed to be a faint glimmer of light within them.
The scene shifts to the well. I'm drawing water and taking a bath. The cool well water, like a blast of ice in the summer heat, washes away the sweltering night, refreshing my skin from head to toe, from my veins to every cell—a coolness that is so penetrating, direct, and thorough. Ah, it seems there's an indescribable passion and comfort hidden within this gloomy weather.
"Cock-a-doodle-doo!" The rooster's loud crow echoed through the night sky, and the clear moon still hung high in the sky. I woke up from my dream, stretched, and felt a cold wind blowing through the thin quilt, which made me shiver. I hugged the quilt tightly again.
The birdsong was clear and melodious. Each note entered my ears, awakening me from my languid sleep. Suddenly, I remembered my dream, as if I were trying to grasp something, to feel something in the darkness. Following this feeling, I put on my clothes and went downstairs. Then I woke up. Xu Que opened his eyes to the gentle sunlight, just right, comfortably warm. So soft!
At this time, the tribe truly came alive. The creaking sound of doors opening in every household became the first symphony of the morning. Before long, the only ancient well at the entrance of the village was filled with people, mostly young and strong laborers, interspersed with a few sturdy and capable women and lonely, destitute old men.
All the able-bodied men would first draw two buckets of cool well water from the well for the old man, pouring them into his buckets with a splash. The water hitting the bucket sides created a spray of white foam. The old man, afraid of getting his trousers wet, hurriedly dodged to the side, but almost slipped and fell. A man leaning on his carrying pole laughed and scolded, "You watch him, he's so old, you'll hurt himself if he falls." He filled his own buckets, laughing as he said, "Why is he so delicate? When we go up the mountain to dig for medicinal herbs..." "He's fast and digs the most; no one can beat him." Hearing this, the people around laughed, but the old man wasn't annoyed. "You bunch of kids, just keep talking about me. When you're old, you won't be as good as me." Saying this, he slowly picked up his carrying pole and walked away. Just as he was about to leave, someone called out to him, "Wait a minute, let's talk for a bit, then we'll walk together!" He picked up the pole, turned around, and said, "I'll talk to you every day if you can make a cow lay a calf." With that, he carried the pole, creaking and groaning, and walked away. Behind him came the laughter and chatter of a group of men… Xu Que was still somewhat surprised by this scene.
Gradually, the area around the ancient well quieted down. The creaking of the carrying poles echoed from the well into every household. The bluestone path leading to the well was covered with wet well water, which, when the sun shone on it, looked like a silver river, connecting the well and running through the entire mountain village.
The rice seedlings in the fields have just sprouted, and it's not time to fertilize or weed yet. During this rare half-month of leisure time, almost every household lets their cattle out, and apart from the cowherd on duty that day, the others are either busy with some trivial matters or sit together in groups of three or five chatting and joking, enjoying the leisure time squeezed in between.
But today there's no peace and quiet; a farmer's cow fell off the mountain and died. This is a common occurrence for the entire tribe. The mountains are high and the roads are treacherous, and the lush pastures are mostly located beside cliffs. Every now and then, unaware of the danger, some calves, tempted by a bite of tender grass, lose their footing and fall off the cliff.
The cow owner was tending his vegetable garden when he heard the news. He paused for a moment, then slammed his shovel into the freshly turned, damp black soil. Turning to the cowherd, he said, "Alright, you go ahead. I'll go find some people to carry the cow back." With that, he went inside to get ropes and went to find help.
At this moment, Xu Que pulled two sticks about the thickness of a calf from the woodpile next to him to use as poles for carrying the ox. Some people who knew in advance had already harnessed the horse-drawn cart and were driving over. The farmer's twelve-year-old son was also called back by his mother to come and help out.
The mountain scenery is beautiful this season. The grass and trees are just sprouting new buds, their leaves still a vibrant green. Everywhere you look, the mountains and fields are bursting with the joyful colors of new life. For city dwellers, this is the best season for outings and recreation. But the people who live in the mountains are numb to all of this. They know the old trees and roadside stones intimately, understanding their changes every year, every groove and branch. The people here are like the rings of the mountain, watching it change little by little, watching the water flow little by little. Similarly, the mountain is like the rings of the people, watching them multiply and live generation after generation, witnessing their laughter, anger, joy, sorrow, and separation. The mountain and the people have been intertwined since long ago, right up to the present.
The mountain children, used to being wild, ran to the nearby field ridges as soon as they left the village, picking at unknown wildflowers and searching for the occasional wild fruit growing there. The child was still young, with no concept of money or life, and had no idea how much of a loss the family had suffered by losing their cow. He only knew that the family would definitely be able to eat meat again in the next few days. Although he didn't dare show it in front of the adults, he was secretly delighted, running around like a madman. In a bad mood, he didn't have time to pay attention to the little rascal, letting him run wild. Before long, the child ran further and further away, gradually becoming separated from the main group.
After walking for more than half an hour along the mountain path, they finally caught sight of a few cattle grazing peacefully on the mountainside. The herdsman, fearing another accident after one of his cattle had fallen off the cliff, had driven all the cattle down the ridge and was resting in a makeshift hut at the mouth of the valley. Hearing the bumpy sound of a horse-drawn cart in the distance, he knew the cattle driver was coming and that he wouldn't be able to rest any longer. He sighed, picked up his whip, and went out to greet them.
Despite this, the cowherd still felt very guilty, since the accident happened while he was on duty. So he was very eager to help the aggrieved party and hurriedly joined everyone in carrying the cow.
The ox below the cliff remained in the same position it had fallen in, lying across the rubble and weeds, its body covered in wounds, dark red blood trickling from its mouth and nose, its dull eyes reflecting the terror and resentment of its sudden misfortune. But the men paid no heed to this. Apart from a hint of sadness and pain in Li Yang's eyes, the others had already taken the ropes from the cart, secured the ox tightly, and then threaded the levers through the rope loops, ready to lift it.
The cow fell halfway down the mountainside, where the ground was covered with overgrown weeds and large rocks weathered from the cliffs. The carriage couldn't make it up the mountain, so this section of the road had to be carried by hand to get the nearly 1,000-pound beast to a place where the carriage could go.
Four men carried the ox on a pole, while others helped support the ox's body and pull the ropes. They all chanted in unison as they slowly moved the ox down the mountain.
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