While I was leaving, I heard someone calling my nickname behind me. The sound was so familiar. I couldn't help but agree. When I looked back, I saw your figure...

The figure quickly disappeared and merged into the vast sky. I knew that it was an illusion. Your image had been engraved in my soul. No matter when and wherever you were, you would unconsciously appear, like a shadow, accompanying me for the rest of my life.

The courtyard surrounded by wooden fences, the thatched huts made of mud, and the sunshine walking listlessly on the village road covered with cow dung. In my memory, you were behind me, bent down and bowed, singing the unchanging children's song, looking for the shadows left by time.

Plant hope, look forward to harvest, cut clouds, make baby diapers, the wind rushes into the hut, blows away the smoke and dust, a big bowl filled with wild vegetables, the hungry father swallows the soup voraciously, and the sound of flowing water echoes in his stomach for a long time. But you lower your head and stuff your shriveled milk into my mouth.

My cry must be very miserable. It was a miserable day with the howling of wild wolves and the owls. It left a deep mark in my memory. In the middle of the night, my father secretly stood up, looked at me in the cradle and my sleeping mother, then carried a handful of old heads and came out of the hut without hesitation. At dawn, he carried half a bag of sweet potatoes back.

...Later, my father, who had been criticized for a day, dragged his tired body back to the house. You boiled a pot of hot water, knelt in front of my father on both knees, held up my father's swollen feet, and rubbed slowly... Seeing my father holding your cheeks with his rough hands, the steam in the hut faded the image of my parents, I seemed to see the mountains in love slowly approaching, my mother's tears rolled on my father's face, and my father's cheeks were derived from iron glaze. It was an unparalleled picture, and the whole world was shocked.

My heart is aching sweetly. It was the first time in my life that it is indelible to erase. Sometimes, the function of language seems bitter and can only be sensed with the heart. It feels like a belief is sublimating, and a seed is sprouting and implanting into blood vessels is a hard feeling.

I often use my mother and father to describe my parents. In fact, my parents are old farmers who have been with the loess all their lives. In my memory, they only know "fight", "sup", "rule" and "scale". The measuring instruments that have accompanied the Chinese for thousands of years have filled their lives. In my memory, my mother changed my father's old jacket to my schoolbag. When I was young, I walked on the muddy mountain road with my schoolbag on my back, touching the awkward characters with my heart. I felt that the world in the middle and outside was full of temptation for us. We had to talk about a movie in the village for a long time.

Your story is filled with desolation, and the eyes are filled with the people with bare backbone exposed, without artificiality, no tenderness, no decoration, plain face facing the sky, working hard, squeezing the bitter days out of juice, feeding hungry lives, year by year, year by year, watch the sun grows beard helplessly, while you are still tirelessly sticking to a saxal grass in the desert, and the light green in the loess ridge.

I am the green leaf in your life, embellishing your life with my tender smile. Whenever night falls, I can always see your wise eyes in the sky. You helped me take the first step in life, and the last step in my life will be completed under your attention. Perhaps, it won’t take long to meet again. In the next life, I will still be your children. In the park, you push me in the cradle and walk leisurely... The years in the loess ridges may not reappear, but now, I must constantly engrave and engrave the eternality of our own.
Chapter completed!