Write a composition with bones, antiques, storytelling and rice.

The so-called "thirty years east of the river and forty years west of the river" by later generations is nothing more than that for me. Because the river overflowed, my family moved in the opposite direction, and so on. But my family has never left the river. Just like the people around you.

My family has lived in an unknown river bend on the outskirts of Kyoto for generations, and we deal with the river every day. The river is my parents' food and clothing, and it is my paradise for young people. We have unparalleled respect and love for fish. They are our gods and friends. I chased fish in the water and reeds and tied them up to eat. After that, collect the fish bones together and hide them according to parents' wishes. Then, either let mom and sisters rub reeds around their necks, or put them in their hair, or let dad roast them on the fire to see whether the next flood will rush east or west.

I never care about these things. At home, I just play by the river every day, as long as I come back and bring some fish, big and small. Everything is so simple and happy.

In summer, the flood really rushed to the west as dad expected. I looked at the ups and downs of wood and bodies on the river and once again deeply admired my father's magical power. The days are still the same. Autumn is very cold, and the world is light and beautiful, because there is always a thin layer of frost and fog on reeds. You don't have to get into the water easily. So I have been squatting by the river for a long time recently, staring at the sun until my eyes are red. What's wrong with me?

I picked up a large clod for no reason and threw it at the reed-covered side with all my strength. I only heard the rumbling sound of running water there, and then there was a splash, accompanied by a silvery "Ah! Ah ~ ~ ~ ". Dazed for a moment, hurriedly limped away. A woman was wiping water from her hair and face, and she was even more unhappy when she saw me running away. Look at the pile of hemp around her. Maybe she is washing clothes. I stared at her with red eyes. Her absolutely white skin was dyed golden, and my already red face became redder.

"Aren't you? ! ..... Is that you? ! Is that you? ! "Shame and anger.

"Me? I ... I, I-"I'm in a hurry. Why? My hands and feet are dancing and thinking. Her face became redder and redder, and finally she chuckled and pushed my chest with her hand. I don't know why the mud was so slippery, so it was gently pushed into the river. ...

"Goo, goo-goo-"I choked a few mouthfuls of water and fluctuated in the water. Her red face turned pale, her eyes opened wide, and the water mist inside became thicker and thicker, and finally condensed into a drop, and another drop fell from her eyes-like a knot on a reed. "ah! Hey! Hey! ! "She won't say anything except this word. After wandering in the same place for a long time, "mom!" Oh, my God, there is nothing suspicious here ~ ~ ~ You, can you swim? ! ! "

Can I swim?

……

I sat on one side, curled up and shivering; She held back her sobs, wiped her tears and sat curled up.

……

"... it's getting late, don't cry, it's good that everyone is all right ... You take the fish and go home quickly ..." I restrained my upper teeth and advised her carefully. Between me and her is a big fish I caught by the way when I climbed ashore.

"..." She sniffed, suddenly jerked a few times, finally took a long breath, quickly scooped up the river with her hand and wiped it on her face, then gave me a hard look and left with a fishtail. Before I knew it, she threw a piece of linen back and walked away quickly without looking back. ...

Later, I learned that she used to live downstream, because the summer flood washed away her home and her father was washed away. ...

Later, when I returned her linen horse, I secretly stuffed my fish bones and some freshly tied fish into her hand. Then I turned and ran, I don't know how far I ran along the river, and my heart was hot and warm, just like watching the sun that day. ...

"Thirty years in Hedong, forty years in Hexi." ……

Zhou's glory and glory were also washed overseas with those floods, and now the ethnic minorities in the north have hit near Kyoto, even our small fishing village, which is almost isolated from foreign affairs, has been shaken. Whether it is the honor of Zhou, the civilization of the Central Plains, or our own lives; Whether it is conscription or voluntary system. That time I sent her fish, looked at her, stroked her face as red and tender as that time, and wiped away her tears. Looking at her, I firmly decided to join the army. Patting her and holding my hand, I promised again and again. ...

……

Although the war in the Zhou Dynasty did not involve tens of thousands of people like the later wars, it lasted until it snowed. Trembling like a dead leaf in the rustling north wind, I will never forget the scene and promise when I left her. That promise is that she is my linen, and she knows it well. When the enemy's blood splashes on my face, when the groans of fellow villagers haunt my dreams ... even if my life is at stake, I still remember: although I really can't be called a gentleman, I know I just like you. As long as you like, I will always send you fish until the fish in the river stop giving me gifts. ...

..... I walked home in rags with a broken halberd that can be converted into a harpoon. The broken reed pile is covered with snow, white and looks like smoke and wind. Passing on the bad news of the villagers one by one, I was provoked to cry like a god, so I was regarded as a plague god and avoided it ... I was really tired ... When I arrived at these destinations, those houses had collapsed. I knew there were a few hungry ghosts who couldn't be sacrificed. They became real wandering souls. ...

Along the winding river, I didn't see the person I missed ... I didn't, but the vagrant was even more pitiful. Can I be a "god" who brings people back to life instead of the dead living in people's homes? ..... No, I haven't finished this little bend yet. I am walking. I will keep walking until I find them. ...

Listening to the sound of pigeons, I can't help but think of the willow tree when I left. I still remember when we made vows by the lush river, and now, I am the only one who returned to my hometown alone on this rainy night.

On the trip, I saw Guan Guanluo's pigeon and thought of her past. The two of us said goodbye outside the village when Yangliu was reluctant to go; Then the war finally broke out, and the battlefield was among the reeds by the river. I was seriously injured, lying in the tall reeds, looking at the sky and the green; Let's see, I don't know if it's rain or tears, mixed in my face. At this time, she was standing at the head of the village where she was leaving, under the willow tree when she left, letting the wind blow her skirt and let her hair and rain people wet her clothes and face. There is a small wrinkle on her forehead, but she is still waiting for me to come back.

But the Iraqis have already left.

Supplement:

Thousands of years ago, when the protagonist sighed like this, homesickness was different. That slight injury, the willow doesn't know, the rain and snow are hard to know, but it has left a mark for thousands of years. Who can retell the story of that spring, whether there are relatives waving at the intersection, and the condensed shadow is engraved in the memory? I knew it the last time I left. Is it repeated in other lives?

I watched the spring in this city, and the plum blossoms were winding around the window. The cherry blossoms in sleep should bloom. Does anyone look up and smell it? Does anyone look at the person who smells the flowers from a distance?

No matter how long, the characters change several times. I forgot this on purpose, and I have been thinking about it a lot. I want to experience a thousand times that a year ago, the hero was either white-haired or physically disabled and determined, saw his hometown, but finally returned to the spring thoughts. I know it's normal. After all, there were too many emotions under the willow tree at that time and above the rain and snow today, not only family ties, but also friendship and love. But when I recited this poem, I still felt ashamed.

Recalling the original exploration, the wind in Yang Liuyi was blowing in the wind; Now back on the road, snowflakes are flying everywhere. It seems that in the barren years, bit by bit, the scenery entered the painting. The person in the painting has a leading role, me and her. The hero cut a pinch of hair under the willow tree and put his lover's hair in his heart; What about me? I listened to the sound of plum blossoms among the willows, calling from a distance, but no one answered.

The road is muddy and difficult to walk, and people are thirsty and hungry. Rain and snow blocked my sight, and then I couldn't find my way. After the film was engraved, I don't know if it was rain, snow or tears, and it got stuck. I watched him cry quietly in front of the window. The dripping tears condensed into ice crystals in the wind, buried in the soil for thousands of years, and finally hit the empty street along the corner of his eye.

"Who is knocking at my window?

Who is fiddling with the strings?

That forgotten time.

Gradually rising from the heart.

Happy scenes in memory

I remember it slowly.

That slowly falling light rain

Keep smashing my window.

Only the silent me.

Think back from time to time. "