It was a mountain called Songyun.
Because the mountains are full of pines, the green color stretches from the top down, and whenever the wind passes through the mountains, the ups and downs will be like rolling clouds.
No one knows what the mountain used to be called and what it was later changed to. After all, it was too long, too long ago. Even the name "Songyun" is not too dusty to look up when cooking a pot of pine mash, and take it casually.
I don't remember those things when I smelled it, but when I saw the mountains in my dream, it was as if I smelled the fragrance of snow water sencha mixed with pine mash.
There is a natural depression on the mountainside of Songyun Mountain. The ground is flat and hidden in the direction of Yangming. There is a Qingming and elegant house where several and half-old children live.
In the dream, it should be the middle of winter, very cold.
There was something cooking in the stove in the corner of the house, and when I heard the sound, I subconsciously wanted to see it, but instead of turning my head in the dream, I lowered my eyes and stared stubbornly at the two pebbles on the ground, a dead one. Yak and a dead bird.
The bird was thin and shriveled, its hair had collapsed, and it stood on its feet stiffly, looking scary and pitiful.
He seems to be very small, so small that the table next to him is taller than him.
Yu Guangli also had several children in the house, who were also taller than him. They stood together in the other corner, far away from him, the difference between them was clear.
The room was lit with incense, and there were curling cigarettes. He refused to raise his eyes, and naturally he couldn't see the expressions of the children. But he could feel one of them shaking, the silk trousers shaking slightly.
They were afraid of him.
I thought to myself when I smelled it.
Suddenly, the door creaked and was pushed open.
The children were stunned for a moment, and quickly stood in a row in awe, with their shoulders squeezed, still far away from him. They clasped their hands, raised them to their foreheads, bowed their heads and gave a respectful salute, and the childish voices called out "Master" in unison.
Only he was indifferent, still staring at the bird, neither looking up nor uttering a word. He just pursed his lips tightly, the hands behind his back clenched even tighter, and it was painful.
He heard rustling footsteps, very soft, like a breeze passing through the forest. Then, a man stopped in front of him.
The man was very tall, and he could only see the hem of the other's robe.
The undercoat is snow-white, and the outer cover is that kind of thick red. It is a very bright color, but inexplicably gives a cold and chilling feeling, like blood flowing down from the top of a snow-capped mountain.
The other children fell silent and took a few steps to the side.
Only Wen Shi did not move, and stomped there dully, as if he was arguing with someone silently.
"What's wrong?" the person in front of him said.
His voice seemed to be covered with something, it was nice, but a little dull. Maybe it's because of the dream, and it's a little vague. But I could tell that the tone was not vicious, even mild.
But the children were still respectful and fearful.
"You guys, what are you doing in the corner of the house?" the man asked again.
One of the tangled children said timidly, "We... we're afraid."
"What are you afraid of?" The man continued to speak slowly.
The child hesitated, hesitating and not answering. On the other hand, the younger one said in a timid voice, "He's a ghost."
The finger pointed from a distance, obviously when he was talking.
He was still silent when he heard it, his face tensed, his lips pressed even tighter. Maybe it was because he was young in the dream, and he felt a little uncomfortable hearing those words.
"Who told you these words?" the man asked again, still in a gentle tone, just lighter.
The tiger-like child suddenly became cowardly, but he still clenched his neck and said, "Everyone I heard from down the mountain said that he was an evil ghost. He killed that bird."
When he smelled it, his eyes widened, still staring at the bird that was already hard.
He wanted to crouch down and touch it, to move it, but he just squeezed his fingers.
"The bird flew in and was still alive, and rested on the table," the child emphasized. "He was killed."
Wen Shi waited for a long time, and the person in front of him finally spoke again: "What about these two stones, he also threw them?"
The child was silent.
The man asked again, "Are you afraid of him?"
The child hesitated for a moment and said, "I'm afraid..."
The person in front of him seemed to nod his head. After a while, he heard his warm and deep voice from above his head: "The words from the bottom of the mountain are so nice, and you are so courageous, why stay here? You will suffer."
He seemed to be joking, and his tone was not cold, but the child was already stunned.
The other children spoke out one after another, as if they wanted to beg for mercy, but because they were young and not very good at speaking, they were all hesitating and hesitating.
He opened his eyes wider when he smelled it, without blinking.
The stove not far away was cooking something, and the heat always drifted here, making his vision a little blurry and his eyes a little hot. Very annoying.
After a while, the person in front of you said, "I will punish you to go to the stone platform to practice the talisman, and then come to me after laying down three bluestones."
"Next time, I'll talk after I understand and understand." The man lowered his hand after speaking.
His clean and wide sleeves were rolled up, and the shriveled and stiff bird on the ground disappeared.
I finally got a reaction when I smelled it.
His eyelashes trembled, as if he wanted to raise his head, and also wanted to denounce the bird. He felt a big hand fall on top of his head and said, "Why don't you call someone?"
His lips moved when he smelled it, but he refused to speak.
The man wasn't annoyed, just patted the back of his head again, and his voice sounded like a mountain breeze: "Go, follow me up the mountain."
Wen Shi was stubborn, not wanting to be so obedient.
But maybe the man's tone was as calm as water, or maybe the opponent's hand was so large that it could almost cover the back of his head. His feet unknowingly took a step forward.
It was only when Feng Xue was fascinated that he realized that he obediently followed the man out of the house and onto the mountain road.
The snow may have just fallen, and the ground is a light white layer.
He was small and unsteady when he smelled it, and walked staggeringly.
Just after two steps, he heard the man ask, "Is it cold?"
He was still silent when he heard it.
"Did I pick up a dumb little apprentice?" the man said again.
He finally raised his head when he smelled it.
The man was so tall that he had to raise his face to see the back of the whole person.
The man seemed to be wearing some kind of simple and complicated mask. From the angle of smell, he could only see that his skin was pale, his chin was thin, and the bone lines on the side of his face were clear and beautiful.
He stretched out his hand towards Wen Shi, his open palm was thin and clean, and his slender fingers were slightly bent.
"Throw the stone and give me your hand," he said.
When he smelled, he lowered his head, only to see a sharp and angular stone in his hand.
"I've been holding it for a long time to scare people, and I haven't seen you throw anyone." He said again, with a bit of helplessness and fun in his tone.
When he smelled, his face was sullen, and he hesitated whether to continue to scare people. After a while, I felt pain in my hand, and then I threw the sharp-pointed stone on the side of the road.
With such a throw, he saw his hand clearly.
In the dream, he was young, and his hands were also very small. They were stained with a little ash from the stone, and they were not clean. The most important thing is that his hands are wrapped in black mist, lingering around.
He looked down at his hand and rubbed it hard for a while until the snow-white skin was red and almost torn, but he couldn't remove the black mist.
That palm was still spread out in the snow, waiting for him to grab it.
But he felt that he was dark and dirty, and after a moment of hesitation, he turned his hands back. But before he had time to move, the man grabbed his fingers and took advantage of the situation.
"What are you shrinking?" The man's hands were large and warm.
He struggled for a while when he smelled it, but he couldn't resist his instinct, and he honestly led him forward.
After walking for a long time, Wen Shi finally said the first sentence. His voice was low, with the sullen milky breath that is characteristic of a child.
"My hands are dirty," he said.
Many people say that he is like a ghost.
The man was silent for a while, then replied, "Not dirty."
When I smelled the snow on the ground, my muffled voice was nasal: "That bird, I just want to touch it."
It stared at its eyes, and fell to the ground motionless as if it had been drained of its essence by an evil spirit... dead. The children were so frightened that they ran away, treating him as a ghostly evil spirit.
In fact, he himself is more afraid than anyone else.
"I know." The man said again.
He was very vigilant when he smelled it, and he didn't quite believe it.
He remembered that Songyun Mountain was very high. In the past, he used to be on the mountainside, and he had to lift his neck hard to look at the top of the mountain, and it took a lot of effort to walk up.
But that day, the mountain road became inexplicably short and not so cold, and it soon came to an end. Maybe he was always thinking about the stiff bird, always uncomfortable and absent-minded.
There is a treasure land on the top of the mountain, and there are elegant houses like the mountainside.
The man led Wen Shi into the room and put him on the couch.
When he released his hand, Wen Shi raised his eyes and saw that his fingers were covered with blue veins, as thin as a handful of dry bones, with dark red blood running down his fingers.
… just like the bird before.
Wen Shi was suddenly frightened, and stayed there, staring at the hand with wide eyes, without blinking.
He had just killed a bird and was about to kill another man.
he thought in panic.
"Why are you crying so silently?" The man laughed and lowered his hand. The wide sleeves fell from the wrist, blocking the skinny fingers and blood.
"Just kidding." He walked in front of Wen Shi and bent slightly. Under Smell Shih's eyelids, he rolled the sleeve back to his wrist. His right hand, which was dry and gray just now, was back to normal, clean, but a little pale. The terrifying changes just now seemed to be illusions.
He blinked when he smelled it, and felt something wet dripping down his cheeks.
"What are you staring at me for? If you don't believe me, does it smell of blood?" He stretched out his slender fingers, and his knuckles touched Wen Shi's chin, wiping the two hanging cat tears.
When I smelled it, I didn't smell blood, only a faint scent of pine.
"Let me show you something," the man said again.
His clean hand came back behind him and seemed to twist it lightly. When he stretched out his palm again, the bird that was killed when he was smelled was nestled in his palm, his head curled up, and the fluff on his chest was fluffy and round, like a ball of hair.
He scratched the hairball with his fingertips, and the bird chirped, opened its eyes, and fluttered its wings to the ground.
"Alive?" His voice was still a little dull, with a glutinous nasal tone.
The man smiled and said, "Alive."
"Can it be raised?" Wen Shi was still worried.
The man said, "Do you control what you eat and drink? You can support it."
When smelling: "How big can you raise?"
"It's very big." The man swept around and said, "Golden-winged Dapeng, this room will definitely not fit in anyway."
When he smelled it, he became bored again, and after a long time he said, "How to raise it."
The man bent over to look at him, and said with a smile, "Did you call someone today? Let's call in a proper manner. I'll make it a little bit longer, so it can't be squeezed."
The little doll on the couch confronted him for a long time, and called out in a proper manner: "No dust!"
"No big or small." Chen Buo said.
***
That's when I woke up when I smelled it.
A second before he opened his eyes, he was half asleep and half awake... That puppet master who was as high as a mountain top, the one he had kept by his side for the longest time, fluttered his wings and could knock off half the golden wings of the mountain top. Dapeng, originally used to deceive children, who would believe it.
…
Even he himself can't believe it.
When I heard the smell and sat up from the bed, those in my dream became blurry phantoms. Some impressions, but not clear.
The past seems to have been opened a little gap, and a little end has been missed. He tried to remember more, but was so groggy that his temples throbbed and hurt.
He forgot to draw the curtains last night, and the sunlight slanted in, making him narrow his eyes. He raised his hand to block it, grabbed his hair and got out of bed. As soon as the door opened, he saw Xie Wen's clothes neatly and unhurriedly coming downstairs.
For some reason, he was stunned for two seconds, then slammed the door shut again.
After a few seconds, there was a knock on the door of the room, Xie Wen's voice came from outside the door, and said, "Don't rely on you when you get up, someone is looking for you."
Sanmidian