These are war years. Twilight shrouds a remote and remote village - Shihao Village. Poet Luoyang Washington State. On this day, the sky has darkened, Miss Poet Inn, accommodation in Shihao Village.
The landlord is a very old, and the widowed daughter, son-in-law and grandson have not yet been weaned. Their clothes are in rags and their faces are sallow and thin.
After a tiring day of running around, the poet wore enough clothes and fell asleep quickly. More than 20 hours of barking, sudden busyness in the village, rude shouting, rapid knocking on the door... getting closer and closer. The poet was awakened by the bleak moonlight outside Kuikan, and the officials once again forcibly recruited the original poor. The landlord was terrified. The old man hurriedly put on a ragged coat, climbed up the hasty wall behind the house and flew to the broken wall of the village. The old woman trembled and opened the door tremblingly.
"Bang - bang, the door did not open, the different officials kicked it open, only to hear the different tracks of the officer roared rudely: Are you your man? You still have to levy, send A man went to war. The old woman begged: "Sir, I have three sons who went to guard Yecheng. The most recent son wrote a letter saying that two brothers were killed in the earthquake. I am worried that he will be spared." It's hard to hold on, have mercy on me! Is there anyone in this old woman's house? "
" Wow -" a child's cry suddenly sounded.
You said there is no one! The child, where are his parents? Shouting and waving whips, they barged in and dared to deceive the "bad officials."
The old woman stared intently and begged to no avail. She choked and said, "My daughter-in-law has lost her husband. How can a nursing child struggle to survive with only one piece of clothing, or even a widowed mother without any clothing? You really want someone, take my old woman away, I'm the difference, I have time to rush the army with you and burn down breakfast. "
The old woman was scolded by the officials in a courtyard. Under the pale moonlight, the old woman looked back at his face hidden in the dilapidated wooden house. The sound of the child's cry came, making people Heartbroken.
>At night, the small village was completely silent. The poet had a sleepless night, and the cry of the poor old woman still seemed to echo in his ears. The poet packed his clothes and bid farewell to his old self. Go home quietly. Faced with this heartbreaking reality, what words can the poet use to comfort the painful middle-aged and elderly people? He just sighed, put a few coins beside the old man, and then left slowly. Slowly disappearing on the road to the desolate small village.