When I thought of the hot kang head, I sighed.
Written by Sun Shuheng.
I was chatting with a relative who had been living in the city for half a year to see his granddaughter.
The house in my hometown was empty, and the water in the heating pipes was empty.
is ready to go back to his hometown for the New Year.
He asked his in-laws in his hometown to prepare enough water for the heating pipes.
Prepare the wood and start the fire.
When you get home, close the door gently.
Blanch a pot of wine, lie on the hot kang, and sleep until you wake up naturally.
Frozen shoulder is definitely better than before. What's the point of lying on a hot kang head for the rest of your life?
White cooking smoke and flickering.
Speaking of hot kang, I can't help but think of the hot kang in the old house.
When I was a child, I knew that building a kang is a technical job, and when it is built, the flue is smooth, the fire is strong, and the kang is hot.
If you don't build it well, block the smoke, the fire can't get up, cook a meal, smoke and burn, and make a sandwich rice.
The purity of plants and trees cannot be measured.
I thought that in this way, whoever offended me would block their chimney.
Sitting on the roof, you can see the moon and illuminate the door of someone's house.
Now that I think about it, there was a night when the village cooking smoke seemed to have been lit by a child.
Loving this endless ancient way of living.
When I was a child, I was used to sleeping on a hot kang head, and I didn't know what the benefits were, so I knew that in addition to warmth, it also warmed my heart and relieved my fatigue.
This relaxation, which can no longer be relaxed, is the urine kang.
It was only as if the snow was blown in outside the window and fell.
I thought about it several times, and I just went to swim in the village river.
Now I seem to understand a little.
It's not that I want to go swimming, but I want to let the river in my heart go out and be fished up by my father like straw.
I never thought about what was outside the mountain, the evening breeze blew the smoke little by little, the things outside the body, the smoke of the past, the happiness of the world.
interprets the watchfulness of half a life, which is higher than the upheaval of life.
Author's profile: Sun Shuheng, pen name Hengxin Yongzai, a native of Inner Mongolia Naiman Banner, a member of the China Financial Writers Association, a member of the Chinese Essayists Association, a member of the Inner Mongolia Writers Association, a member of the Western Essayists Society, and a member of the Inner Mongolia Popular Literature and Art Research Association).