If I have never said one sentence after another to you, can you still understand my heart as clear as a lake in the depths of Maolin?

If I have never met the silent fire in your eyes, when I wander in the dark world, I will know that you are always by my side, just like the sun rises and the moon sets, forever?

In the deep winter and its untidy dusk, the night rustles. She was in a hurry to get off work, but the patient was transferred to the clinic. This is an old man with cataract. His wife is helping him. Eager to see the boy waiting at the hospital gate, she only asked a few questions, then wrote a notice of hospitalization and got up: You come with me to the ward. Say to the old lady, "Pay the fee there."

The old lady did not move, smiled and measured her head and pointed to her ear. The old man said calmly, "doctor, I'd better go with her to pay the bill." My wife, she can't hear. " She looked up in surprise and suddenly saw the old man's meticulous white hair. His face was serene and elegant, but his pupils were dark and dull, like an abandoned mine. His eyes, they are dead. He is blind and she is deaf?

The news is like the wind blowing on lotus petals, and the turbulent transmission makes the people in the ward more curious. At first glance, they are so ordinary, the old man closes his eyes to rest, and the old lady is busy silently and smiles modestly. In the afternoon, the old lady sat on the edge of the bed, peeling oranges one by one, carefully pulling off the tendons and gently handing them over. Old people always open their mouths at the right time and take them away. And she, watching the old man chew and swallow, ate a petal with a smile and fed an orange to the old man to stutter. ......

Every move seems to be moving from life to silence without crossing the mountains of light and darkness, just like the Moon Villa and the Breeze Award, which have been such a perfect match since ancient times.

And he can't see, she can't hear, how can we communicate and take over the endless tricks of fate? A huge mystery, full of four old hands, she will never guess. One day she couldn't help asking, and there was a faint smile in the old man's dull eyes: "You will understand later."

After that, it came too fast to respond. One day, she saw the old lady hobbling out of the water room with a water bottle. She just wanted to come forward to help, but there was a loud explosion, which replaced her inaudible crying. The old lady was weak and couldn't stand up anymore ... She just struggled silently, making the same gesture: lifting and sagging, from lifting to sagging, like a dancer's curtain call, like a dying swan, until she became weaker and weaker ... No one knew sign language, but no one understood her thoughts: Please don't tell him, please help me and take care of him.

And she silently took off the doctor's white robe, washed her hands under the tap, and washed away all the hospital smells. Then quietly walked up to the old man, sat in her accustomed position and gently peeled the orange ... When the orange petal was handed to the old man's mouth, he spoke: What happened to her, my wife? Does it matter? Suddenly, I heard unknown birds singing up and down on the green trees outside the window, while the old man's white eyes twitched painfully, amber melted and shed thick, turbid tears.

Forty years ago, I knew the dark spot of no return. That year, after a few sleepless nights, the research team suddenly turned red and died as dark as death. After waking up, his eyes are behind the bandage, and no one can predict what color his life will be after the bandage is removed. He didn't inform his parents in the country, just lying alone in the hut, never knowing the weight of darkness, which made the 22-year-old boy breathless. Finally, he cried.

Suddenly there was a faint scent of jasmine, and a pair of women's hands were gently wiping his tears through gauze. He couldn't help but be moved and asked in a dumb voice, "Who are you?" There was no answer, but his lips were soft. He opened his mouth unbelievably and mechanically, and an orange petal dyed with jasmine fragrance was sweetly fed into his mouth ... For seven nights, there was no sound, no light, only jasmine orange, which moistened his dry throat day after day, which was the only comfort and expectation in the dark country. Just, why has she never said a word to him?

At the moment when the bandage was removed, his eyes looked around eagerly. Where can I find the sweet jasmine orange in the noisy crowd?

Gradually, even he himself suspected that it was just a dream. But inadvertently, I held her hand and smelled the faint jasmine fragrance in her palm. At this moment, all the memories are like the beginning of a storm. She just quietly raised her head and looked at him deeply. She is a cleaner in a design institute, a quiet and rich woman like the earth. Sweeping the floor every day is like sweeping life. It's just that he doesn't know how she feels about him every day.

It turns out that love that has never been exported is like a flame hidden in coal and a river buried deep underground, which is the burning and rushing of life.

She throbbed slightly. He released it, held it tightly, and then pulled it into his arms. From then on, he held the promise of being gentle and not being polluted all his life.

Forty years later, the old man is still that resolute face, while the handsome young woman doctor is in awe.

Who said that my heart must be expressed in words, and who said that you can only recognize your incomparable face with your eyes? If fate deprives you and me, just like a thirsty cactus in a barren desert, I will bloom more than a thousand flowers for you and show you my only beauty at the same time.

Ann can tell whether he is a man or a woman.

On the grassland this summer. A horse was in Hiramuren in the morning. That's my beloved black horse. With a gentle whip, the tip of the whip is not as good as a horse's back. It has galloped away and I heard the rustling of the wind.

Calm down but walk smoothly, occasionally nibbling at idle flowers and weeds, I chatted with the groom, "Is it male or female?" The groom replied, "They are all males, and mares can't walk on them." I looked up and saw a big character under someone's horse's belly, but my horse was empty, which was inexplicably unfair. "Why does that horse have it and my horse doesn't?" The groom smiled, and his gold teeth sparkled in the sun. "Your horse has been castrated."

Shit, this is embarrassing.

In the afternoon, the sun is cool, the grassland is unobstructed, and the endless grand green. I sat under the flagpole, holding a little white sheep and chatting with the children. Filled with soft fragrance and warm jade, I asked, "Is this sheep male or female?" The child's mother, a middle-aged woman, came forward enthusiastically. "This is not as the saying goes? If you want to know whether your mother is a man or a woman, just lift your tail and have a look. " The tail was lifted for a long time, but I still didn't understand. The woman helped me point out, "Well, this is feces, this is urine, and this is a little ewe." I continue to be ignorant. "What about the ram?" That woman has a terrible smile. "The urine of the ram enters its stomach." I don't believe in such an idiot, so I stopped and added, "This is unclear." People who have laughed all over the floor at this time. Fortunately, the sun is poisonous, and everyone is red-faced. If you add a blush, you won't see it.

Is it that easy to distinguish between women and men?

This trip is from Shanxi to Inner Mongolia, and it is the day before Yulan Festival when we arrive at Wutai Mountain. Outside Wu Ye Temple, I heard drums and cymbals. It turns out that someone is willing to give a play. There is a sign in the corner of the stage, Pan Yang lawsuit.

One cool day, in the garden, I looked at the stage and tried to identify the pale face. Is it Pan Renmei? They surprised and frightened him, but he was just an old man with desolate hair. A stocky and fat old lady, is she too gentleman? There has always been a slow and steady smile. She sits proudly next to the Eight Immortals, but the winner has not yet been decided.

Naturally, without subtitles, I feel bored. Suddenly, a very handsome young man appeared, with fine eyes and powder on his face, but his cheeks were soft and red, like a natural complexion. The midsummer afternoon sun shines on my head.

I stood so close, his thick-soled boots, step by step, just passed my head, and his robe was slightly lifted, with red silk pants inside. Magnificent, but the lines are soft and light. Is it a woman? I'm not sure.

Who is he? Is this number in Yang Jiajiang? Poor me, I can't tell "Yang Liulang" from "Yang Zongbao", and the emperor called out, "Kou Aiqing,"-how can there be such a young and handsome Kou Zhun?

The scorching sun is almost a fire-breathing dragon, a poisonous flame. They were all hiding in the shade, but I was right below the stage, half stupid and half fascinated. Kou Zhun suddenly met with a problem on the stage. She lifted her weight easily and had a good idea. She seemed to be a good girl and obviously a general. The more I watch it, the more I get scared.

The play in the mountains is very simple. The ghost soldier rushed out of the backcourt in a costume, and about three people were in a hurry. In a blink of an eye, he changed a leader and played quietly. After the play, the actors are not far away, pouring washing powder into the washbasin, producing so much foam, soaking colorful makeup and rubbing it out with heavy hands. A simple and honest face is a return to nature.

There are many rambling tourists around, taking photos, burning incense and wandering around. Everyone only visits here occasionally, and they don't remember Wutai Mountain very much in the future, and Wutai Mountain doesn't remember us very much either. I am in the sun, and this is also a temporary existence. However, in my eyes, Kou Zhun is so beautiful, pink rouge, black boots and red pants, righteously, but clever. He smiled and laughed, and suddenly I saw dimples, and that woman was undoubtedly.

At that moment, I just felt in a trance, as if I was not a tourist and had a long-term relationship with Wutai Mountain, but the daughter of a nearby rural family. Occasionally catch a temple fair, burn incense and make a wish for a good family. I saw a play in the temple and met with injustice in my previous life.

If he is a man, I will marry him, wash my hands of it and follow him everywhere. He is the only lover in my life. If he is a woman, I hope to become sworn sisters with her and live together until the end of my life. Whether she becomes beautiful or marries an ordinary woman, I just want to marry the same man with her. ...

How many missing girls are there in the country after the play? All beauty is androgynous.

Love on a tissue

When she was in tears, the boy handed her a rough paper towel.

For an instant, she remembered her husband's paper towel to wipe tears-light and soft, and the faint jasmine fragrance was refreshing.

Sometimes, a tissue can change a person's life.

At the wedding, she shed one tear after another, not just the tears that the bride must have.

At the beginning, she insisted on holding a grand wedding banquet, not without psychological compensation.

He is a doctor of medicine studying in the United States, runs a pharmaceutical company, is rich and well-educated. When we first met, he told her about the laughter in the operating room and smiled himself. She smiled and agreed, but she didn't understand many technical terms.

He is very kind to her. Send flowers, drive her to work, take her to luxury entertainment places, and fund her two collections of essays. But he only turned a few pages and fell asleep. She always keeps him at a respectful distance from others. But everyone around her was moved-what kind of man are you waiting for if such a man doesn't marry?

She finally got married, but tears flowed involuntarily. In the luxurious Mercedes-Benz, he carefully wiped her tears with a paper towel all the way, and the faint jasmine fragrance came to my face.

In the days of ease, she thought of the boy.

I met this boy at the pen meeting. On the first night, the moonlight filled the whole mountain. She leaned against the railing of the mountain and placed herself in the moonlight, listening to the sound of dance music in the distance. At this time, I heard him pass by her, paused and whispered, "There are several places to blow eggplant on a moonlit night." She stood up in shock: can he hear her inner voice?

They will always be like this: in a word, she said the first half of the sentence, and he naturally took the second half. After the pen meeting, they returned to their respective cities, but they still talked with the postman on the phone, talked about poetry and writing, talked about land, talked about love, and finally talked about marriage.

Unconsciously kneading the boy's letter into a ball, she froze. Perhaps, she always knew the result, but ... She saw her husband's concentrated figure in front of the computer, and he was slightly fat in middle age-what should he do?

The boy kept asking questions. Every time she sees a boy, she makes up her mind to reach out to her husband immediately after going home. But, what can I say? He has always been very kind to her.

She suffers in time, and her thoughts are as confused as Sophora japonica blown by the wind: advance or retreat? Divorce or not? When they met again, the boy's questioning voice grew louder and louder. She remembered all her grievances and couldn't help crying.

The boy panicked and rummaged through it before taking out a paper towel and handing it to her.

Paper is gray, rough, hard and rough in your hand, and you can tell at a glance that it is sold by weight in the free market.

She remembered the paper towel with a faint jasmine fragrance when he wiped his tears. It was soft, delicate and faint, just like those days he gave her: comfortable, warm and clean. If she hadn't met him, she couldn't have published two books in two years, nor could she have kept a girl's inexperience to this day. She remembers his luxury private car and those boys waiting for the last bus in the cold street late at night. His sword dance stereo and the "Walkman" that the boy must often shoot ... The boy gave her love, but gave her almost the most important thing in a woman's life: a sense of security.

Unconsciously, her tears stopped. She returned the boy's tissue to him and whispered, "I have it myself."

Later, she would often think of boys, but she never regretted her choice: if one of the characteristics of love and life is roses and the other is a dish that she must eat every day, then she can only choose the latter.

Just, that day, the boy handed it to me. Why is it such a poor paper towel?

Father and mother who never flinched.

A few years ago, a train collided with a car in Wuhan.

An early bus ran aground at an unattended intersection, and the driver got off to look for water. It was the first month of the lunar calendar, and it was freezing. A dozen passengers stayed comfortably in the relatively warm carriage, and no one thought of the coming disaster.

No one noticed when the train came from the distant fork. It can only be said that the frosted car glass blurs everyone's sight, while the roar of the motor and the closed doors and windows isolate the whistle. When I found out, in an instant, everything stopped.

Everything stopped, but suddenly the child's crying broke out.

It was a child of about two or three years old, lying a little far from the roadbed, wearing a neat little red cotton-padded jacket and rubbing his sleepy eyes with one hand. I don't know what happened, but I just cried, "Dad, Dad ..."

A bystander said that at the last minute, a pair of hands came out of the window and threw the child out. ...

His father found it later. All his bones are broken, his head is squashed, and his clothes covered with blood and brains can't tell the color from the texture ... How do you recognize him?

Because his hand is still facing the window, making a gesture of throwing.

That was years ago, and no one remembered his name a long time ago. However, when passing this intersection, someone will point: "Once upon a time, there was a father ..."

Also, has that child grown up now?

A long time ago, in a farmer's home in the Central Plains, there was a stubborn child. He couldn't read, but he pulled out all the teachers' beards and couldn't farm. On a whim, he cut all the wheat fields at home. I only fight and make trouble with my friends every day, stealing chickens and dogs.

His father, a loyal farmer, couldn't help cursing him. His son refused to accept it, but swore. His father had to pick up a kitchen knife to scare him. Unexpectedly, his son rushed over, grabbed the knife and waved it away.

The old man's injured right hand fell to the ground, dripping with blood and groaning in pain. And the son who was thrown into the disaster walked away without even looking.

From then on, life and death are unknown. It was an eventful year. Somehow, my son came back as a general. With a mansion and a beautiful concubine, you are more or less a person with status. You have to show some respect and put your father in the backyard. But he remained indifferent, kept silent about the "old dog slave" and went to the well every night. Even if his father wants to drink water, he must hold the bucket in his injured palm.

The neighbors all said, "Why didn't Ray cut him?"

Maybe there is such a thing as retribution. One night, the general's enemy came to seek revenge and went straight to the inner room. In the mansion, so many aides, guards and diners all fled, and the general was about to die under the knife. Suddenly, an old man rushed in from the backyard and held the blade firmly with his only intact left hand. He was white-haired, fierce and desperate, and even the assassin was surprised. He used this moment to shout: "Son, run, run ..."

Since then, the old man has lost his hands.

Three days later, the escaped son came back. He went straight to his father who had been awake for three days, expecting. He bowed his head deeply and cried with tears: "Dad-"

Give him one knife and the other knife, just because it's his son.

Mother's heart

My friend told me that her grandmother was old and weak.

Grandma didn't know grandpa at first, and resolutely banned this "strange man" from going to her bed. The wife who has slept with her for 50 years has to sleep in the living room. Then one day grandma went out and disappeared. Finally, with the help of the police station, the family finally got her back. It turned out that grandma was bent on finding her childhood home and refused to admit that her present home had anything to do with her.

Coaxed and deceived, she finally persuaded her grandmother to stay, but forgot that she had brought up her grandchildren since childhood, thinking that they were a group of wild children and came to rob her of food. She hit them with a cane and protected her rice bowl with one hand: "Go away and don't eat my food." Let the whole family laugh and cry.

Fortunately, grandma also knows a factory-a friend's mother, and remembers that she is her own daughter. I always have a smile on my face when I see her. Call her: "Mao Mao, Mao Mao." At dusk, I moved a stool and sat downstairs, nagging: "Why doesn't Mao Mao finish school?" -Even He Miaomiao's daughter graduated from college.

The family is right about grandma. After she wanted to go back to her home, she threatened her: "If you make trouble again, Mao Mao will not want you." Grandma will be quiet soon.

One National Day, a guest came from afar. My friend's mother personally cooked a home-cooked meal to entertain the guests. Grandma has a very strange action at the dinner table. Whenever a dish is served on the table, grandma will be alert and snooping around, sneaking around like a child ready to steal candy. Finally, judging that no one paid attention to her, grandma put a big chopsticks dish in her pocket in full view. Both the host and the guests were shocked, but they pretended not to see each other, only grandma herself, as if believing that she had done it very cleverly and secretly, and showed a cheerful smile. That meal was ... it was a little difficult.

After the last dish was served, my friend's mother was so busy that she came out of the kitchen and asked the guests "Have you eaten yet" and picked some leftovers from the plate. At this time, grandma got up with a bullet and grabbed her daughter's hand and pulled it hard. Her daughter was puzzled and had to get up to accompany her.

Grandma pulled her daughter to the door all the way, warily blocked everyone's sight with her body, then scooped it out of her pocket, smiled and took out the food just hidden inside and stuffed it into her daughter's hand: "Mao Mao, I specially left it for you, you eat, you eat."

My daughter was holding a pile of mixed and squeezed food in her hand. After a long time, she looked up and saw her mother's smiling face. She suddenly cried.

The disease cut off all the connections between grandma and the world, making her forget all the connections in life. All the relatives, the only thing that can't be cut off is the blood relationship between mother and daughter. Her soul has slowly died under the erosion of disease, but it is the mother's heart that will never die.