Mountains is silent one unsmiling father

In the old man’s house to eat a bowl of element face, talked for a while, go out, the lights of the village has been carefully read the night. This is my last night in the mountain village stay, I want to find a place to enjoy simple and comfortable here.

Village called “frog out pool” of the ancient pond, relative to the entire villages, at this time is vocals, boiling pot, talkative old people meet there, with exercise fitness equipment installed in the village, and repeatedly on chatting. Yesterday I have been to two times, what calls are in the ears don’t hear the ancient pond, only in the story of the old people mouth from generation to generation, fantasized about hundred years ago, that only when the drought to save villagers frog out of the fairy. I can’t think of a sort to, seem to also don’t have to come up with a turn to tell her.

In the village there is a great hall, came to the village on the first day I have been to. Before zhang man said, will have to act in an opera in the great hall of the troupe, and it can be noisy, TingXi people can squeeze into the wall. Today, here has shortage for many years, the stage was stacked with various of sundry, the weeds in the yard to knee height. Era of change, some things have not come back, but nostalgic people still thinking, maybe think about daily, may be remember those laughter, may be remember someone to spend the night with yourself.

Recall the first three day and night spent in mountain villages, unconsciously, I have already walk to the village of the tail. Village there is a fork in the road, extending to the top of the hill, where there is a pavilion. According to my meaning, I don’t want to go once again, because the mosquito there quite fierce! I was about to turn back to the old man’s house, suddenly heard a tune coming from the mountain leisurely slowly, I can’t help but wonder, does someone in the pavilion?

With curiosity, I went up the hill, down the path but six or seven minutes, reach the top of a hill. Mountain road each have street lights from a distance, has been to the outside of the pavilion five meters. Not to passing, I have been through the light, see at a distance, an old man sitting in the pavilion. The slow romantic music, it is out of his hand the thing came in, listen to the sound quality, should be a phone.

Wanted to say hello, but into the pavilion at the moment of I was speechless, because the old man looked at the distance, as if his hands out of tune, ShanTing had nothing to do with him. How can I to say hello to people a heart wasn’t in this? How can I to disturb his mind?

Sit in silence for about five minutes, the old man just suddenly turned round, look at me to ask: “young man, you come to play in the village?”

I nodded and answered: “used to have relatives here, remember when I was a child, come for a walk and have a look.”

The old man nodded and looked into the distance. I was speechless, do not know what to say, he looked at the passing a road. Street lamp, a not well-known tree open unknown flowers, a breeze blowing, there are a few petals fall. Petals, it fall to bloom, trees, is for the fallen petal bloom, I’m not a botanist, but this night I see trees blossom.

“The old man’s house, your phone look good.” I have is belong to have no words to find words, but sat silently, some of the oppressed.

The old man, looked at me, then she bowed her head looked at his mobile phone, sighs: “son bought for me, it’s a pity that it is not my son.”

“Oh? Why?”

“When he was young, I ran outside and leave his wife and son in the village, just your equip outside. I not bottom go to, such as back here, my wife has been took his son run. A run for 30 years, 30 years! When he came back, I didn’t recognise him, he is already someone else’s son, outside his home. He gave me the mobile phone, bring me a lot of things, and then went away. It is, this is life, I think…”

I shook my head, looked at the distance of the endless darkness, heart is more and more quiet. Life is long, the time in a hurry, life is the recognition, but the life is oneself write down.

Gradually into streams of clever voice, like a lively child, around the mountains around the circle. Mountain, is still the silence of the mountains, in the night sky on the layers of clouds, like a catch dreams, layer cascade folds, is he.