The summer night of childhood is Alice's Wonderland.

in my childhood, the extremely patriarchal father and the extremely arrogant me were tired of seeing each other in addition to quarrels. I don't like home in town. Most of the time, I'd like to go back to my hometown and stay with my grandparents. There, my intelligence can be pressed down to gender and become the king of children. He went up the mountain to hunt birds, went down to the river to fish, peeked at Grandpa's martial arts novels, and painted the White Lady on all the wooden doors with his brush and ink. The indulgence of my grandparents made me do whatever I wanted. But the deepest memories are those summer nights.

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the night of childhood is a song of homesickness. Such as the pastoral flute curl, Qingyue across the long river of time, across the layers of twilight, those far away from people and things, once again appear in front of the eyes, as if never far away, never forgotten.

at that time, the sky was very blue. it was a large piece of dark blue velvet painted by Rubens, with a soft touch, and stars scattered like broken diamonds, emitting bright cold light, but as if within reach. There is also a large bamboo forest beside the rice field in front of the old mud house, blowing with a little breeze. In front of the rice farm, there is a shallow stream-like puddle separated by a bridge made of three bluestones, with lotus leaves growing on the left and a clump of Zizania caduciflora on the right. Waterside peach plum apricot pear, cherry pipa, twisted branches and leaves, dark shadows.

Dinner is eaten early in the countryside, and adults enjoy the cool on the rice field by shaking their fans after sunset. Children chased fireflies in the grass under the tree, and the constant orders of adults behind them were of no avail. On their arms and legs, they were either bitten by mosquitoes or cut by blades of grass. The trophies are usually for my deployment, using a dark brown glass medicine bottle to lock the fireflies in. When the bug flickered in it, it stopped flying and held on to the bottle. The fluorescence went out, and it turned out to be the same as an ordinary bug, and we were suddenly out of interest.

at that time, most of the places where people gathered to enjoy the cool were my rice farm. Because my grandfather can tell ancient times, he can tell stories like books. Talk about Xue Rengui's Eastern Expedition, Water margin, and Liaozhai. I like to hear him talk about Journey to the West best. He spoke very well, chapter by chapter, almost according to the book, but with cadence and approachability. Most of the middle-aged people in the village are illiterate, but he is educated. The old Zhang family was a landlord before liberation. Grandpa went to a private school when he was a child. Before liberation in 1949, Tai Gong smoked opium and lost all his property, so he escaped being shot. All the tables and stools in the house are very strange, the table is not like the table and chair, and the floor is covered with blue and white porcelain. Only when I grew up did I know that at the beginning of the Cultural Revolution, my timid grandfather sawed off all the armrests of my master's chairs, burned all the fence pedals of the carved big bed, smashed all the porcelain, and tore off all the books and put them in the toilet to wipe their buttocks. I always thought that my grandfather had great wisdom. He lost his mother when he was young, but his stepmother was unable to give birth and took care of him. He stayed in WISCO and co-operatives, and in fact, he was all in management. He spent one yuan and two yuan in laissez-faire all his life, but he didn't suffer any hardships. All these education and experiences that he has received have been transformed into one story after another.

after watching the news broadcast, move the big bed surrounded by mosquito nets to the center of the rice farm. After taking a bath, I stepped on the bed covered with straw mattresses, surrounded by a piece of white rags, and played the role of the White Lady. My little playmate, the granddaughter of grandpa, plays Xu Xian, and the granddaughter of my second uncle, Tian Tian, plays Xiaoqing. Sometimes they also want to play the White Lady, but they are all crushed by me. Grandpa sat on a cool bed one meter wide of bamboo. The color of the bamboo was bright dark brown. He made a strong tea full of porcelain jars, and the tea juice was all jet black. The third uncle and the second uncle came to our rice farm with a chair. All the young men stood and listened, knocking on cigarette sticks and filling them with cut tobacco. Grandpa coughed and talked about Xue Rengui and Wang Bangui. I don't understand and I'm not interested. Grandpa talks about ancient times. I only listen to Sun Monkey. After two chapters, the adults still have some discussion, and after that, they each catch their children and go home.

Grandma and I sleep in a big bed at night. Grandpa sleeps in a cool bed, and the air is cool from the bamboo forest by the water. I didn't want to fall asleep. I pestered my grandfather to tell a story, and my grandfather began to tell it.

"When I was a child, I also slept on the rice farm in summer. Sleep until midnight, the yellow dog tied to the foot of the bed barks. I opened my eyes vaguely. Alas, a big white leopard darted past from under the rice field. It's a good thing there's a dog, otherwise, I would have been eaten by a leopard. " I was frightened and wondered why the leopard came here. Grandpa said that more than a decade ago, in front of the rice farm, it was not the present vegetable field and orange orchard. At that time, it was all barren mountains and mountains, where there were leopards and wolves. Foxes and weasels sneak into the house every day to steal chickens, rabbits in the vegetable fields steal radishes every day, and hedgehogs break the corn more quickly than people. In short, it was in the struggle between man and nature at that time that nature was more powerful.

I don't want to sleep anymore for fear that a leopard will eat me or a weasel will eat my ear when I fall asleep. Out of the protection of the house, suddenly there is no sense of security. So he begged Grandpa to tell a story.

Grandpa said something stronger. "it is said that when I was young, I built a reservoir. One night I came home from work, it was also summer, it was very late, and there was dew on the grass leaves. I walked around from the back of the mountain, and I felt as if there was someone behind me. The moon is in the middle of the sky, and my shadow is far in front of my feet. As soon as I looked back, there were seven people behind me, and there was no shadow on the ground! The one close behind me has no chin on his face! Oh, I've met a ghost! I ran and the ghosts behind me followed. I kept thinking of your wife's name and ran home to close the door, and the ghost was still outside tapping the door until the rooster crowed. " My face turned white with fear, and he said seriously that ghosts were gathered under the locust tree and there were ghosts under the peach tree, but the ghosts were afraid of the rooster, and the rooster had a headache. Grandma repeatedly scolded him for being out of tune and scared me. For the first time, I felt threatened by death, and I felt threatened all my life. I don't understand why there are ghosts in the world, why people die, can they not die? I also ask truthfully about these words. come out.

Grandpa smiled and said, "for five thousand years in China, if people don't die, the ground will be so crowded that they can't stand." These places where we live are tombs from ancient times, where the living live on top of the dead. "

he dragged the cool bed to the big bed, pointed to the stars in the sky with a pure fan, and taught me to recognize 28 stars. "in ancient times, for those who have made great achievements, emperors and generals are all stars in the sky. When people die, they go to heaven. "

the moon in the sky is small, wrapped around a veil, and countless stars are bright and dim, like a bright heavenly river that seems to pour out in the next moment. There is the Big Dipper, the Cowherd, and the Weaver Girl, and those myths and legends are all real at this moment. For the first time in my little chaotic heart, I saw greatness and smallness, felt beautiful and sad, and met life and death.

the grandpa who told the story and the elder who listened to the story are gone, but the moon and stars remain the same on a summer night. Girls who go through every family have also grown up, and those stories and heritage may be told from generation to generation.