Chapter 4: The Heroes (Sixth Middle School)

The sky gradually darkened, and on the grassland, several bonfires lit up alone, illuminating far away through the dusk.

Beside the fire, there were more than forty newly-launched tombs. Each of them was covered with a piece of leather, with short knives, guns or cigarette bottles on it. The horse thieves who were still alive walked past the graves one by one, sprinkled the wine from the wine bags all over each grave, then straightened their backs one by one, raised their necks and shouted: "Go away, brother, don't come back when you leave. You will be born in the wrong baby in this life, and you will be born in a wealthy family in the next life, with wives and concubines, and cows full of cows and sheep."

"Go away, brother, please have a companion on the road to the underworld. Don't pretend to be cowardly when you get there."

"Go away. I drank Mengpo soup early. I have been poor for half my life. I have nothing to bear to leave."

"Go away, if you catch up with a peaceful and prosperous era in your next life, you will have no worries about food and drink for the rest of your life."

"Go away, don't look back."

....

The sad voice echoed in the wilderness over and over again, sending blessings and expectations to all the deceased over and over again. Few people shed tears. They would rather drink big drinks. Since they were thieves, everyone would have such a day sooner or later. Blessing others is also blessing themselves and burying others. In fact, they are burying their expectations for life in this life little by little.

Zhang Songling couldn't stand the atmosphere around him, which made him feel very depressed and confused, although before that, he had not known how many times he had bid farewell to his companions.

"Drink some bar." Zhao Tianlong handed over a leather pocket and whispered, "After drinking, hurry up and take a look. We can't stay here for too long."

"Yes." Zhang Songling took the leather pocket and poured two big mouthfuls hard. A blazing smell came from his throat to his chest, hooked up the flames in his stomach, jumped, and poured from his heart to his forehead again.

He wanted to talk to people very much, but he didn't know what he should say. The great principles about the country and nation that supported him to move forward seemed very fake when speaking on this occasion. However, summarizing the experience and lessons of daytime combat, it may not be possible for someone to listen to it. He wanted to come forward to give the deceased a few blessings like other horse thieves. The eulogy that was familiar to him was too pale and powerless. In the depressed moment, there was a low horse-headed fiddle in his ears, which was gentle and long, like crying and complaining.

Zhang Songling quietly turned his head and found that the person playing the violin was a young man about the same age as his. He was tall and thin, with long black fingers moving up and down skillfully on the bow.

The low sound of the piano penetrated the deeper and deeper night, gathering the sadness in everyone's eyes and the depression in their hearts. As the night wind left, the shouting horse thieves gradually stopped shouting. The horse thieves who were drinking hard slowly put down their wine bags. Everyone slowly surrounded the violinists and sat in a big circle. A little piety surged on everyone's face.

"Uh, roo, roo, roo, uh, huh, huh..." The violinist's lips did not move, but emitted a series of long and strange syllables, high and low, as if the wind passing through a tunnel, carrying ancient breathing and memory.

The surroundings suddenly became quiet, and the red stars jumped on the fire, and dozens of huge meteors slid through the night sky and fell towards unknown places on the grassland, triggering several long howls of wild wolves.

"Ao, woo, woo."

"Ao, woo, woo."

Not tall, but extremely clear. The wolf seemed to be right next to the person, but you couldn't see him. The sound of his howling was ups and downs, and the sound of the violinist was vaguely thought of, the same loneliness and the same vicissitudes.

Zhang Songling felt his soul break out of his body and slowly rise into the air. Looking down from a high place, the grassland at night was peaceful and peaceful. All the smoke was blown away by the night wind, and all the blood was buried by the grass. In just a few breaths, the mountains became plains, the green fields became deserts, and lonely felt bags became magnificent palaces, and the magnificent palaces, after the blink of an eye, turned into ruins, rubble, and dust, blown by the wind, fascinated the eyes of passers-by.

A group of bare-shouldered men came from a distance, carrying stones and feathers on sticks. They chased wild deer and hunted foxes on the grassland. They struggled to survive and fought each other for the ownership of a few cows and a horse. Their backs gradually ran away, replaced by a group of soldiers wearing cowhide armor and giant shields. With a shrill sound of the cow horn, the spears cast out covered the sky and the sun.

The spear that covered the sky and the sun was soon replaced by the feather arrow that covered the sky and the sun. The cowhide armor turned into two armors, and the giant shield turned into a scimitar. When the scimitar and the two armors were blown away by the wind, the copper nails and cotton armor and bronze cannons walked onto the grassland. Then, the bronze cannon turned into a rifle, and the Japanese devils' plaster flag covered the sky and the sun.

The Japanese carrying plaster flags lit the tent, led cattle and sheep, killed women, old men and children, enjoyed it. Zhang Songling's soul fell back from mid-air and grabbed the Sanba Daguer who had been placed beside him, and instinctively jumped, but Zhao Tianlong held his body firmly, "Wake up, wake up, don't run around in the dark, you don't know the way at all."

Zhang Songling struggled for a few times but couldn't break free. He opened his eyes blankly, "What's going on, Brother Zhao, what's wrong with me just now."

"You have Sandsickness." Zhao Tianlong slowly let go of him and responded in a low voice, "The whistle is used to see off the dead. It is very easy for those who hear it for the first time to fall asleep." (Note 1)

"Uh, roo, roo, roo, uh, ah, hum, thigh..." The sound of the horse-head fiddle and the chanting continued, and the tone seemed to have not changed, and it seemed that it had undergone thousands of changes. The horse thieves sitting around the violinists half closed their eyes and their bodies swayed back and forth with the melody of the piano.

Zhang Songling rubbed his face hard with his hands to keep his mind awake, "What kind of song is this? It's so strange. I didn't understand a single sentence, but it seemed like I was confused by him."

"We call it 'soo', and those words have no meaning at all." Zhao Tianlong grinned and shook his head and replied, "There are very few people who can sing, they are all handed down from generation to generation. I once heard my master sing. My master learned from his master. Every time he fought a battle, he would sing it, specifically to see off the dead."

"So that's how it is." Zhang Songling nodded slightly, pricked up his ears and listened to the sounds around him, but he could no longer find the wolf howl just now.

The wild wolf disappeared, or had never appeared before, only existed in his fantasy, but the howling of the wolf remained deeply in his mind, as if it was part of his memory, lonely and stubborn.

Note 1: Xiao, the singing style of ancient grassland peoples can be traced back to the Spring and Autumn Period and the Warring States Period and even longer. It is usually used to summon warriors after the war, or to boost morale before the war. During the festival period, there are also special people singing.
Chapter completed!