The fields in the mountains are not square. Surrounded by mountains, the bay is on the bay. What kind of geographical shape. It is very important where to plow (that is, pre-open) when plowing. In some places, more plows are needed, while in others, less plows are needed. How many plows should we plow? It also depends on the shape of the field. After the ploughed mud embryo is turned out, it should follow one direction to harrow the field more smoothly. Of course, where to start the first rake is also very particular.
Sir Zhong is really good at farm work. He doesn't need notes when he plows. He listens to him with his broken ears. Every hilly land is not on the same level. In the relatively high places in the field, the plowshares are buried deeper and more mud embryos are dug out. When the mud embryo in a higher place is carried to a lower place with a heavier weight, Mr. Zhong's mouth will make a "sigh" sound, and the "broken ear" will slow down immediately. When you get to a low-lying place, Mr. Zhong will lift the plow slightly and slowly grasp the "broken ear" to bear it. Therefore, if you take the mud embryo from a high place to a low place in the field, Mr. Zhong will hear the sound of "rushing" and "breaking ears" will speed up the pace. After ploughing, Sir Zhong shouted "Swing" (Turn)! At the same time, tap the nose rope gently, and the "broken ear" rotates clockwise for the next adventure. At this time, I was a little curious, so I went to the field, followed Mr. Zhong, reached for the handrail of the plow, and felt the different forces needed for the depth of the plow.
At noon, Erpo sent lunch to the ridge. In order to get familiar with how to set up coffee and plow as soon as possible, I scrambled to untie the cangue load for the "broken ear" and took it to the hillside near the field. Then I picked some tung leaves, woven them into water leaf bags with straw, filled them with cold water and gave them to Mr. Zhong.
After lunch, I took my "broken ear" to the field, tried to put a yoke on it to get a plow, and experienced the joy of plowing for the first time. There is no difficulty in plowing in a straight line. I just can't lift the plow when I swing. Teacher Zhong told me: We should use clever force, that is, the force when walking with a broken ear. Seize the opportunity and lift the plow with our help. Then he told me: How hard will it take to shake the mud embryo in one direction, and what shape of field will be plowed from there? ...
On the second day's trip to farm, Mr. Zhong and I exchanged roles. I walked to the front with a broken ear and a plow bucket, and Mr. Zhong followed closely with a flail load. At first, Mr. Zhong stood on the ridge of the field, shouting "Woo", "Rush" and "Swing" ... Gradually, his voice became farther and farther away. Turning his head, Mr. Zhong had mowed the grass for "Broken Ear" on the hillside near the field with a knife.
After plowing the responsibility field of Sir Zhong's family, I immediately borrowed a few days to plow my own responsibility field. Carrying a plow "single-handedly" to drive a cow, according to Mr. Zhong's oral experience, where to plow, where to push and where to lift the plow, perhaps because his instructions were wrong, and Mr. Zhong's darling "broke his ears" did not listen to my instructions. After several rounds, I was covered in mud and could hardly grasp the pace of progress. Just when I was depressed and helpless, there was a cry of "Xu-"on the surrounding hillside. Whenever farming was crucial, the familiar sounds of "Xu", "Rush" and "Swing" came from the surrounding hillside, but no one was seen.
There is such a custom in the stockade. When transplanting rice seedlings, it is called opening the seedling door, and the hospitable host family should prepare to "drink". After planting the seedlings, the host family will also prepare "finished wine" to celebrate. That night, Mr. Zhong pulled me to his table. My second wife served a pottery bowl with an old pig's shell, smelled the fragrance, and put her claws into her throat early. Mr. Zhong took out his own cereal wine and went to a sea bowl. When I was picking vegetables, chopsticks seemed to have eyes, so they ran into the earthen bowl, one piece, two pieces ... I secretly took a look at Mr. Zhong (I left home since I was a child.
Sir Zhong Xiang saw through my heart and put the biggest and fattest piece of meat in the earthen bowl into my rice bowl: the younger generation can't catch a few pieces of meat for an egg. This cereal wine is really delicious, only about 30 degrees. After drinking less than half a bowl (about one or two), Mr. Zhong's sea bowl fell down, and he poured another one himself, without me. Slowly, the quiet Sir Zhong began to talk a lot.
While listening to Mr. Zhong's unique skill of "plowing low and harrowing high", while drinking cereal wine, I narrowed the distance with Mr. Zhong and fell asleep on him unconsciously.
"The child is poor enough. Take a basin of water to wash his feet and sleep with me today. " No sooner had Mr. Zhong finished than the second woman brought me a basin of warm water to wash my face, hands and feet. Then, carry me to his big bed. ...
Mountain people, it is inconvenient to take a bath, so naturally take a bath every three to five days. Mr. Zhong hugged me, and the thick sweat on his body made me feel the simple affection and the warmth of fatherly love.
In autumn, the harvest season, Mr. Zhong moved a bucket (threshing bucket) to the field to make millet, so I followed him to the field without farm tools. When making grain, Mr. Zhong told me how to move the bucket and how to stabilize it on the ridge. When making grain, the methods are: first making, second shaking and third dispersing. How to bind the straw tightly ... borrow a bucket from Mr. Zhong's house to make his own millet, but Mr. Zhong didn't go and asked several aunts for help. When I picked up the bucket and walked around, I bit my shoulder deeply. I finally reached the edge of the field. Just as I was about to put down the bucket, there was a loud shout from the hillside: the direction of the bucket was reversed. The shoulder is already unbearable, and the bucket falls to the ground. Before people could get out of the bucket, the bucket turned into the ground below. Sir Zhong came out of the hillside and went up the hill with a bucket. Watching the square fight, oh, I let my ears (handrails) touch the ground first when I put the fight.
After building the valley, it's time to take the bucket home. Bubbles that pass through water are heavier. My aunt helped me pull the bucket out of the paddy field and set up the bucket pole. I couldn't lift it, so I knelt on the gravel. How many cuts were made, and the blood flowed along the instep and to the ground ... Aunt helped me lift the corner of the bucket, and I finally stood up. Staggered away not far away, a tree vine on the hillside grabbed the bucket ear (handrail) and ran hard, but did not knock the tree vine down. I covered the bucket with all my strength, but the bucket did not move, and the blood from my knees was red. The bucket stood up, and there was another figure in the original bucket. I was embarrassed when Mr. Zhong walked in front with a bucket.
The millet was put into the barn and the adoptive father came back. My adoptive father told me about the wonderful world outside the mountain, and then he told me his plan, saying that he would go out next year to find a lot of money and promised to marry me. Most/kloc-men over 0/8 years old are married. When they got married, they invited many guests. A few days later, some strangers came. The adoptive father said that they were his best friends and wanted to borrow some millet from our family. The millet at home was picked away by strangers one by one, which was really distressing. I begged my adoptive father to leave enough food for me and the old lady. Seeing my adoptive father's gloomy face, I dare not say anything.
The millet in the barn was picked away and the stranger disappeared. My adoptive father told me that years ago, it was dead, and now I have to go out to collect accounts and prepare for the annual inventory. I'd better buy a lot of things when I come back. After my adoptive father left, Sir Zhong came to see my barn. The remaining millet is not enough for me and the old lady to eat for a year. The face that didn't like to laugh became more ugly: "It's really not human!" Sir Zhong walked out of the house with a heavy burden.
Holding his fingers and thinking about the New Year, he only hoped that his adoptive father would come back early to buy new year's goods. There is no shadow on the 28th of the twelfth lunar month, and there is still no trace on the 29th. Neighbors are busy cooking and boiling water, and there is no meat hanging on the coffee on the kang. The 80-year-old lady kept sighing at the fire pit. /kloc-when I was 0/4 years old, I couldn't figure out a way. I sat on the stool and burst into tears. When Mr. Zhong came, he understood everything: "Why are you crying?" ? Celebrate the New Year with us tomorrow. "
The next year, I repeated the same work. Manual for manual, cattle for manual. After planting the seedlings, it is estimated that the millet in the barn will not be able to eat the new millet. It doesn't matter whether I'm hungry or not, not the old lady! I go to the fields early in the morning to pull weeds and fertilize, and never go home empty-handed, either picking firewood or transporting firewood. When I got home, I found there was not much rice. Then I looked at the old lady and left the rice for her, so I ate yam fruit and dried sweet potatoes by myself (that's when I cooked yam fruit, sliced it and shredded it, and it's been many years now, and whenever I fry yam fruit at home, my chopsticks don't stretch). In my spare time, I go to the village to collect some junk, go to the mountains to find some medicinal materials in the mountains, earn some money and buy some rice to fill my family, although it is still more than half a month before the new valley comes out.
One night, Sir Zhong moved a bag of millet and sent it to my house: "I lent it to you. Give it back to me when Xingu comes out." In this way, I finally made it to the new valley.
The millet was put into the barn, and the adoptive father came back, repeating his story yesterday. Your eloquent words made you happy. I've heard a lot, got used to it, and I know that my life is really impossible. After lying at home for three days, I finally decided to walk out of this house. The world is vast, but it's hard to find my place. The only place to go is to leave school for almost three years.
My adoptive father has a thousand reasons not to let me go to school, and my clumsy mouth can't resist his sharp lips and teeth. To tell the truth: when I was fifteen or sixteen years old, I had been trained by Mr. Zhong to be a good hand, but I still couldn't fill my stomach after a year's hard work, so I really couldn't live. Finally, the venerable old man in the village was asked to mediate, and the adoptive father separated on the grounds that he could not afford my schooling.
I have divided it at home, but there are not so many millet in the barn. My list of all my property: more than 800 kilograms of millet, eight acres of land, and two cartons of books. I walked into the school with two cartons of books, and then I realized that there was no quilt. At this stage, I want to study, and I want to be an eight-acre life field. When planting seedlings, Mr. Zhong showed me the water and weeds in my field ... During the holiday after graduation examination, Mr. Zhong was ill and saw many local doctors, but nothing improved. Mr. Zhong can't move. There is a lot of farm work at home, and the fields have been treated with bugs.
When I came back from the mountain, Mr. Zhong was already lying on a door panel with thick yellow toilet paper on his face. A gust of wind blew away the toilet paper on his face. The last time I saw Mr. Zhong's bloodless face, it was very charitable and peaceful. Around the door panel, my sister-in-law is crying about the benefits left by Teacher Zhong. I am already a big man, but I won't cry or complain. My hands tightly hold Mr. Zhong's cold big hand full of cocoons and cracks. This hand is the one that taught me to plow. This hand is the one that saved me from the lid of the barrel. This hand is also the hand I gave Xiaomi when I was hungry. ...
I still didn't cry, but my tears kept flowing. They flowed more and more, flowed into my palm, and also penetrated into the cracks in Mr. Zhong's hand ... A few years later, I found a job and made many friends. After getting along for a long time, my friends said that I was frank and simple ... When I lived with Mr. Zhong, Mr. Zhong, who didn't like to talk, left me only words such as wine and morality, "urging" and "driving away" when plowing. Yes, his blood doesn't flow in my body, but his character has been transplanted in my heart forever. ...