Original title: Cool Breeze Ten Thousand Miles Edict Lechuan
Zhou Sunhui
The wind of Chilechuan, sassy, with the moistness of Hasuhai, with the freshness of green grass, rushed straight into his arms, the irritable heat all over his body dissipated in an instant, and his spirit suddenly refreshed. I mightn’t help but raise my chin and open my arms, feeling the gentle, powerful and invisible lift of the wind, as if my body had transformed into the light wings of a butterfly, swaying among the blades of grass.
Chilechuan, where the wind blows grass and low views of cattle and sheep, and Chilechuan, where the sky is like a dome and covers the four fields, can only truly feel its magnificence if you come here in person and step on it with your feet firmly on the ground.
In the early morning, I pushed open the door of the yurt. Under the light blue morning light, the green grass magically turned white overnight, and the vast expanse was amazing. Squatting down and looking carefully, it turned out that there were countless dewdrops hanging on the slender tips of the grass blades, like a white cloak woven with a layer of tulle over the grass, more like the legend that it was made of thousands of pearls. The pearl shirt, close to the body can keep fit. This is a gift from nature. In the northern summer, as long as there is dew at night, the leaves of plants that are curled up and dry during the day will soon be moistened and restored to their original state.
In the evening, the setting sun slowly fell into the horizon, lying on the grass, the sun hat was on the face, the thick and soft grass leaves slowly exuded the residual warmth of the day, ironing the back that was sore and stiff due to sitting at the desk for too long. . Far away from the hustle and bustle, all troubles are temporarily thrown away, and the mind is at ease. Then Diogenes comes to mind—the king is visiting: what can I do for you? He said: please go away, don’t block my sunshine.
In the middle of the night, the insects chirped everywhere, and the stars came out in clusters, hanging brightly and low on the top of the head, like a shed of bright grapes, and the biggest ones might be gently picked up by raising your hand. The firefly lanterns were lit one by one. They were small stars in the world, flying quiveringly. Time became very slow in them, but every second seemed so full. In groups of threes and fives, they passed through the blurry and thick shadows of the grass and disappeared into the vast night, like a awakened dream.
When it was raining, two people huddled together in the semi-dark yurt, listening to the sound of water droplets hitting the tent, as if singing a song without words, with the melody of Dongbula and Matouqin, simple, melodious, pure, listening for a long time. will fall into a dream. The raindrops bloomed round petals on the top of the translucent tent, like transparent flowers that bloomed and withered instantly. The currents gather among the grasses, forming streams, rivers, and small lakes. When the rain stopped, I hurried out for a walk. I took off my shoes and socks and went barefoot. The grass was itchy and scratched at the soles of my feet. It got into and out of the toes. Everyone giggled and returned to childhood. A red dragonfly flew by, and everyone shouted and chased, panting.
A “Chile Song” has been sung from the Southern and Northern Dynasties to this day. At this moment, standing on the grassland and looking into the distance, it is still a magnificent scene where the sky and the fields meet. A cool breeze blows, whirling in a small whirl, and at the end of Qingping, countless grass blades rise and fall like deep and shallow green waves.
Just become a small grass, standing on the Chile River, stretching its slender and straight waist toward the sky, listening to the echoes of the ancestors’ horseshoes deep in the soil, watching the bright moon from a thousand years ago overlooking today’s bonfire, just standing quietly, not talking……
