Ghost Blowing Lantern II - Chapter 23 The Karen Left Banner at night (Part 1)

Following the herdsman’s “Old Sheepskin” finger, I couldn’t help but look up at the sky. Thick clouds piled from the top of my head to the horizon. His last words echoed in my heart repeatedly, that “dragon” is in the sky.

After saying this, “Old Sheepskin” stopped talking and went to slaughter the sheep with his head sullenly. I looked at the sky in confusion for a long time, and I was still doubtful about his words. At this time, the grassland started to It got busy, and everyone was helping to prepare for the evening banquet. I didn’t feel like asking any more questions, so I turned around and returned to the group of educated youths.

There are many taboos on slaughtering animals in pastoral areas. For example, after killing, you must not say “what a pity” or “it would be better not to kill”, because once you say such words, the soul of the animal will stay to cause trouble, and the horse will Riding cows or horses, livestock that have helped their owners, female animals that have given birth to babies, etc. are not allowed to be killed, because educated youth are from outside, and herdsmen are rarely willing to let these people help slaughter animals, and skinning and cooking should be done as much as possible. Don’t let educated youth come near.

So we educated youths had nothing to do after the cows and horses returned to the pen. We could only wait for dinner. Night finally fell. The sky was like a dome, covering the surrounding fields. A fire was lit in front of the herdsman’s tent on the grassland. They successively brought out large plates of Mongolian-style food, and a whole sheep mat was served, which was paired with things like blood sausage, sheep tripe, etc. We had never eaten them before. We could smell the unique flavor of dairy products in the night sky. The sweet smell made me swallow my saliva.

Fatty and I didn’t eat at noon. Seeing all the delicious food, we couldn’t help but move our index fingers. Fatty just wanted to reach out and grab a piece of meat to eat, but “Old Sheepskin” knocked his hand with a pipe pot. After returning home, it turned out that we had to ask the cadres from afar to say a few words to everyone.

When he spoke, it was nothing more than repeating the old tunes that are popular in gatherings nowadays. The cadre named Ni was in his thirties, with a thin face wearing glasses with severe myopia and a one-sided cadre look. In fact, he He is not a leading cadre at all. He is just a civilian. He was sent by his superiors to write a report on his exemplary deeds in the pastoral area. Unexpectedly, he was treated with such high courtesy on the grassland. The herders had never seen any leaders at all. They just called him “chief”. ” he shouted, he was actually a bit flattered, and he insisted that everyone change their name to “Lao Ni”.

The Mongolian people are big in the west and respect the elder. They invited Lao Ni to sit in the most distinguished seat in the west. An old herdsman held a horn cup and sang a few toasts first. Ding Sitian lived on the grassland for half a year. Duo, who has learned a little Mongolian, translated to me and said: Wine is the crystallization of grains. The wine that Mongolians offer to their guests represents welcome and respect…

The fat man and I had no interest in the content of the toast song. We stared eagerly at the roasted leg of lamb, hoping that the old man would finish singing quickly and wait for Lao Ni to say a few more nonsense words to cope with the situation. Let’s eat.

Following the local custom, Lao Ni dipped his ring finger in the wine and flicked it toward the sky, the earth, and the fire. Then he dipped his lips in some wine, and then he started to speak. He first recited a few sentences of the highest directive and then praised a few words. Regarding the excellent situation in the pastoral areas, I did not forget to mention the educated youth here at the end. I said that the educated youth have received a lot of training in the grasslands. While supporting agriculture, animal husbandry, revolution and promoting production, we must also strengthen political studies and hold frequent life reviews. Meetings, reporting thoughts in a timely manner, and conducting timely criticism and self-criticism…

Lao Ni talked like a wheel for twenty minutes. Maybe even he felt hungry. Then he waved his hand and told everyone to start eating. Mongolians drank wine as if they were drinking cold water. Using a big bowl, even a small drinker would be frightened by this formation. At this time, the herdsmen all wanted to toast the leader. Lao Ni, who was overwhelmed with alcohol, could not resist for half a circle before he was knocked unconscious and asked to drink. Carry it into the counting room.

There are not many educated youths, and they don’t dare to drink bowl after bowl with the herdsmen. They simply grab some food, light a bunch of smaller fires, and eat aside. The herdsmen know that they are from the mainland. The young people were young, and no one chased us for a drinking contest. They were also happy that no outsiders interfered. The shepherd liked to sing when he drank too much. In the middle of the meal, someone’s morinouqin whimpered and sounded like It is as sad as a complaint, but also exceptionally desolate and powerful. The sound is so powerful that it moves the sky.

Eleven of us educated youths sat around another fire, experiencing the grassland life where the fire warmed our chests and the wind blew cold on our backs. We were fascinated by the morin fiddle. I wanted to go over there and see who was playing the morin fiddle. It was so good, Ding Sitian said: “You don’t need to look to know that it must be the sound of Grandpa Yangpi’s piano. Although he is a migrant from the northwest, he not only sings well in Qinqiang and Xintianyou, but also has lived on the grassland for decades. I also have a deep sense of charm when playing the Morin Fhuur. I think Tengger must have given the most beautiful sound of the Klinzuo Banner grassland to Old Yangpi’s Morin Fhuur.” After she finished speaking, she stood up and danced to the sound of the Morin Fhuur. Had a solo dance.

Ding Sitian used to be a literary and artistic backbone, and she excelled in dancing and singing. She always wanted to join the art troupe of the army, but she could not do so because her family had overseas connections. She could learn the Mongolian dance on the grassland as soon as she danced it, and she danced more Mongolian than Mongolians. , the Mongolian dance has a beautiful form and slow rhythm. It mostly uses body language to praise the vast beauty of the grassland, and expresses the postures of flying eagles and galloping horses.

We were so mesmerized watching Ding Sitian’s dance that we completely forgot where we were. Until the sound of the piano stopped, we were still immersed in it and didn’t even think of applauding. As the saying goes: “Everything is worse than having a cup in hand, and you will see the moon in your head only once in your life.” The sky is high in the grassland, and the moon is bright. In front of the burning fire, people are singing and dancing, drinking and talking. This may not be a few times in their life. The educated youths settled in various banners. All districts, which rarely meet each other, cherished this gathering very much and performed one after another, either singing or dancing.

Finally, Ding Sitian pulled the fat man and I up from the ground and said to everyone: “We all welcome Bayi and Kaixuan from the Xing’an League.” Several male and female educated youths sitting there applauded, and I and The fat man looked at each other. This was a bit difficult. There seemed to be some great dancers where we jumped in line, but there were no dancers like those on the grassland. We didn’t even learn how to sing or dance. Didn’t this make us two brothers stand out?