[Nine]
In the thirtieth year since I joined the sect, my master died of illness. Two days before he left, he called me to the bed and asked, "How is Gu Jiuan?"
I stared at him hesitantly. The master smiled and said, "Do you know why I took you in as an apprentice?" I said, "I remember, you think my moves are like his." The master smiled and coughed, "Where did I get such good eyesight. Gu Jiu You once saved my life, not long after you arrived at the realm of Bakumen, I received a letter from him, asking me to take care of the son of an old friend."
I was speechless for a long while.
He said he couldn't read. He never had a single truth to me.
"He said that he was still alive, but he just didn't want to show up again. He also said that you didn't know his identity. You are indeed a talent, but I took you into my sect, recommended you to the sect leader again and again, and gave you the opportunity to make meritorious service. His favor."
The master mocked slightly: "I'm afraid Gu Jiu could see at that time that you will eventually climb to the position of head. In terms of eyesight, no one can match him."
…
Is that so? In the heart of the bamboo craftsman, have you bid farewell to me since then
The head of the sect returned west two years later, and I took over the side sect as I wished. Thanks to the praise of my friends, although my skills are still mediocre, I will be called a hero when I go to the rivers and lakes. You need to know that my father has been righteous all his life, and he has never been called a hero until his death.
There are always friends who want to draw a red line for me and talk about marriage. They said that a hero should be matched with a beauty, and they also said that I should have someone to take care of me even if I am not young. After talking about it, there was confusion in the voice, so I almost asked why I didn't marry. I smiled and prevaricated one by one, and if it didn't work, I replied: It's good now, it's annoying to have one more person.
They laughed at me for not being able to understand the style, and how many hateful things in the world I missed.
How can I be puzzled by hate? I even copied the poems, stroke by stroke on the letter paper, for fear of making mistakes: Huai Zai Huai Zai, Heyue Yu returns
The bamboo craftsman is old, and his clothes always look empty when hanging on his body, his ten knuckles covered with calluses are stiff, and he can no longer do his work. He refused to use my money, so I sent clothes and utensils from time to time, and by the way, I gave money to the neighbors and villagers, asking them to help take care of them.
It's unbelievable to say, but when I think of him to this day, I always see the youngest appearance in front of my eyes. So much so that every time I meet him, I always feel shocking. I don't want to face his drooping eyebrows, just like I don't want to see myself beyond recognition.
The bamboo craftsman began to get sick intermittently, and he became a little confused. Sometimes in the middle of a meal, I would suddenly ask me: "Aren't you afraid that your father will come and beat you if you don't go home?"
I put down the bowl and chopsticks, and slowly said: "I have no home to go back to, please take care of me for a while."
But I can't stay long. There are many orphans among the side disciples, and they all regard Cangzhu Mountain as their home. Since I am sitting in the head, I have to take care of them.
One day I rolled out the bamboo mat he wove for me. After so many years of use, some places had been worn through, so I was reluctant to throw it away. Maybe it was because I slept on the bamboo mat that night, and I returned to the bamboo forest in my dream, and saw a silhouette as graceful as a bird. Someone is wearing a layer of sunset light and dancing wantonly, like a mountain god, and the sound of bamboo waves in the distance is singing an old ballad.
Did he dream of me? What does it look like
I ended up not asking him.
In the winter of this year, the bamboo craftsman's condition suddenly worsened, and he couldn't drink water and rice. I tried every means to drug him, and he fell into a coma for ten days before he recovered. I feel his pulse every day, and I know it's time to prepare early. It's just that I am unwilling in the end, and I always want to delay it for another year and a half.
The bamboo craftsman was very face-saving, and stubbornly waded through the gate of hell once, but he was still in a daze and never woke up. New Year's Eve is approaching, and as usual, I have to go back to the side door to attend the dinner. But this is likely to be the last New Year's Eve spent with him, and there is really no way to leave.
I had a flash of inspiration - why not take him to the side door? I've been persuading him for the rest of my life, but I can't talk him out, and it's up to me once it's over.
I prepared the carriage, packed my luggage, walked to the bed and said to him, "If you don't make a sound, I'll take it for you." The stripper's face was pale, his eyes closed tightly and he didn't respond. I was a little guilty, and picked him up while muttering: "It's pretty good outside, if you wake up, you can see the lakes and mountains again, it's a worthwhile experience in this world."
I carried him out of the house, looked down, his eyes were still closed, and a line of tears rolled down his skinny cheeks.
…
On New Year's Eve, the village was full of joy. I cleaned the shabby room by myself, pasted Spring Festival couplets, made a few side dishes, and sat beside his bed with a wine jug, pouring and drinking until the moon was in the sky.
When the sound of firecrackers sounded in the distance, I leaned over to his ear, wanting to say something auspicious, but felt that the situation was ridiculous. A few streaks of blood were reflected by the candlelight on his face, as if he had some blessings of the Spring Festival. I suddenly recalled that when I was a child, I had ignorantly imagined what it would be like to kiss him.
Thinking of this, I reached out and touched his pale lips. Dry chapped, sore fingertips. Firecrackers sounded all over the village one after another. I tilted my head and thought for a while, and said, "You must be angry, right? So what, you can't do anything to me now."
I put my lips on them, rubbing them together, and moistened them with saliva. I smiled and said, "Open your eyes and see, does it look like a wedding candle?"
[ten]
The bamboo craftsman was not mad at me that night, and miraculously survived fifteen. I even had an illusion that he would eventually get better, opened his eyes and looked at me, and said a few words of reproach in a soft voice.
I have not secured my position as head of the sect, and I have not returned to the side sect for a long time. According to reports from my confidantes, many people are already ready to move. I stared at the secret report slowly being reduced to ashes in the furnace, and I felt dull. But if you give up at this time, what is the purpose of this life
When I received the news that a competent subordinate had been assassinated, I finally summoned two apprentices to take care of the bamboo craftsman for me, and rushed to the side door to preside over the overall situation.
The rebel party had just been wiped out, and his apprentice sent the news of his death by carrier pigeon.
The two apprentices panicked and wanted to use their internal strength to hang him. Unexpectedly, his pulse is like a candle in the wind, and he can't protect it at all. I ran to the death of two horses, and when I rushed back to the house, there were several neighbors outside the door, waiting for me to collect his body.
I jumped off the horse in a daze and walked slowly to his bed. He was already completely cold, his pale and emaciated body looked like the bamboo he had cut down all his life, and his face was like grass and trees, neither sad nor happy.
Is it because I left? Or is he waiting until I'm gone before he's willing to die
Apprentice Xu was afraid that I would blame him, so he knelt down and wept for him consciously. I stopped impatiently, and asked: "Did you leave any words?" The apprentice recalled it, and panicked: "He woke up once and said a word, and the disciple tried hard to understand..."
"what?"
"'Don't forget what you entrusted, return to me on the mountain.'"
I repeated it numbly: "Return to me to the mountain..." is what he once explained about his funeral.
For me, he said nothing.
As promised, I buried him in the depths of the bamboo forest, and kept my filial piety for him until Qiqi. There were very few sundries in the house, and I only took two Mi knives with me, one belonged to him, and the other was used by me when I was young, and it was already full of rust.
On the way back, I went around to visit the tombs of my parents, sat in front of the stele and got drunk once, and told them the events of these years one by one. I talked about the big boy I whipped with a bamboo branch, about the sound of cicadas in a small village, about rat poison, about the sound of clappers, about side doors, about being chased by ferocious beasts while collecting medicine, and about the brocade handkerchief that my sister left on the case and returned to me. , talking about fireflies in the mountains, killing people in the middle of the night, and talking about many good things and regrets.
At the end of the talk, I said: "Your elder taught me to be a good person. I failed to do it. It's not his fault. If your elder meets him, take good care of him."
I went back to the side door to be my hero. When people get old, they only feel that youth is fleeting, like morning dew, how many grievances and enmities are carried into the dust by old friends.
There is only one thing that is always on my mind. I don't understand why he didn't leave me a word. I don't know if he went to Huangquan in the past year, can I find him and ask him what happened.
The bamboo mat he gave me has already worn out a few big holes. I couldn't bear to throw it away, so one day I dug out his saber and ran to the nearest bamboo forest to cut a section of bamboo. After working some old bones, I chopped out bamboo strips and brought them back, trying to find a way to repair it. Just as he took apart the two layers of mats, out of the corner of his eye, he suddenly saw something engraved on the back of the strip between the two layers.
I took a closer look, and there were a few small characters in Qianqian: "Gu Zhi Gu Zhi, Huai Zai Huai Zai."
All of a sudden, I went back to being young again, I had a high fever, filled my mouth with the bitter taste of medicine, dragged his arm in a daze and said: "Don't leave me, don't go—"
He patted me on the back: "Okay, I've been here."
[Strip Craftsman·End]