The landscape and the situation in the field during the day have been written by poets in wonderful poems, and painted by painters in vivid pictures. At night, the poets are a little drunk with wine, and the painters are holding their delicate instruments and singing low: neither of them has any work to do in the fields. Who else, then, tells the people of the landscape and the situation in the fields at night? There is, and there is, the scarecrow.
Men in Christianity say that man was made by God's own hands. Let's not ask whether this is right or wrong, we can say that the scarecrow is made by the farmer's hands. His skeleton is a thin bamboo branch from the bamboo garden, his muscles and skin are yellow straw from the next year. Broken bamboo basket, remnants of lotus leaves can be made his hat; hat under the face of the flat plate, can not distinguish where is the nose, where is the eye. His hands have no fingers, but holding a broken fan - in fact, can not be considered to hold, but with a line tied to the fan handle, hanging in the hand. His bones were so long that there was a section under his feet, which the farmer stuck in the dirt in the middle of the field, and there he stood all day and all night.
The scarecrow did his duty very well. If you compare him with an ox, the ox is much lazier than he is, sometimes lying on the ground and looking up at the sky. If you compare him with a dog, the dog is much more mischievous than he is, and sometimes runs around, exhausting his master in search of him. He was never too tired to lie down and look at the sky like a cow; he was never too playful to run around like a dog. He looks at the fields in peace and quiet, the fan in his hand shaking gently to drive away the little finches that fly in to eat the newly knotted ears of rice. He did not eat, nor did he sleep; he would not even sit down for a rest, but always stood straight up.
This is of course, the scenery and situation in the field at night, only the scarecrow knows the most clearly, and knows the most. He knew how the dew condensed on the grass blades and how sweet the dew tasted; he knew how the stars blinked and how the moon laughed; he knew how the fields were silent at night and how the plants and trees slept soundly; he knew how the insects looked for me and me for you and how the butterflies fell in love, and, in short, everything at night was clearly known to him.
The following are some of the things that the Scarecrow met at night.
On a starry night, he watched over the fields, the fan in his hand shaking gently. Newly emerged rice ears one by one, starlight shot on it, some shiny, like a layer of water droplets on the top, a little wind, rustle rustle. The scarecrow watched and was happy. He thought that this year's harvest must make his master-a poor old woman-smile. Where had she ever smiled before? Eight or nine years ago, her husband died. She cried when she thought of it, and her eyes are still red to this day; and it has become a fault that she cannot move without tears. She had only one son, and it took three years of hard work to pay off her husband's funeral expenses. Unexpectedly, her son died of diphtheria immediately afterward. She fainted at the time, and later suffered from frequent heartaches. This time she was the only one left, she was old and had no energy, but she still had to work hard to plow, and after three more years, she finally paid off her son's funeral expenses. However, in the next two years, the rice was flooded and either rotted or sprouted. Her tears flowed even more, and her eyes were injured so that she could not see at all, even from a distance. Her face is full of wrinkles, rather like a wind-dried orange, where can she show a smile! But this year's rice grew well and was strong, and there was not much rain, as if it would be a good harvest. So the scarecrow is happy for her: think of the day of harvesting, she saw the harvested ears of rice and big and full, which are her own, at last not in vain, the wrinkles on the face must be spread out, showing comforting smile of satisfaction, right. If there really was such a smile, it would seem to the scarecrow to be more lovely and more precious than the smile of the stars and the moon, for he loved his master.
As the Scarecrow was thinking, a small moth flew by, a small grayish-brown moth. He immediately recognized the little moth as the enemy of the scarecrow, the enemy of his master.
From the thought of his office, and from the thought of his affection for his master, it was necessary to drive the little moth away. So he shook the fan in his hand. But the fan's wind was so limited that it could not frighten the moth. The little moth flew for a while and landed on a rice leaf, as if it did not feel that the scarecrow was there to drive it away. When the scarecrow saw that the moth had fallen, he was very anxious. But his body, like that of a tree, was fixed in the earth, and he could not move half a step forward; and though he shook his fan, the little moth still rested steadily. He thought of what would happen in the field, of his master's tears and shriveled face, and of his master's fate, and his heart felt like a knife. But the little moth was determined to rest, no matter how to drive, he just did not move.
The little moth flew away when the stars were grouped together and all the night scenery was hidden. The scarecrow looked closely at the rice leaf, and sure enough, the tip of the leaf was curled up, leaving some of the moth's seed on it. This made the scarecrow feel infinitely frightened, thinking that the trouble had really come, and that the more he feared, the more he could not avoid it. Poor master, all she had were two dim eyes; she could only be saved by telling her, and making her see the moths at an early hour. He thought so, and shook his fan more diligently. The fan often touched his body with a snapping sound. He would not scream, it was the only way to warn his master.
The old woman came to the field. She bent down to see that the water in the field was just right and that she did not have to cart water in from the river. She looked at the rice planted by her hands and saw that all the rice was very strong; she touched the ears and felt them heavy. Then she looked at the scarecrow, his hat was still on properly; his fan was still in his hand, shaking and making a snapping sound; and he was still standing very well, straight and upright, his position had not moved, and his appearance was exactly the same as before. When she saw that all things were well, she walked up the bank of the field, ready to go home and rub the straw.
The scarecrow, seeing that his master was about to go, was so anxious that he shook his fan in all haste, and tried to *keep his master at bay by the sound of this urgency. The voice seemed to say, " My master, don't you go! You should not think that all things are well in the field; a heavenly calamity has already left its roots in the field. Once it strikes, it will be unmanageable, and then you will have to shed your tears and rub your heart; it is not too late to extinguish it before it is too late. Here, on this one, look at the tips of the leaves of this rice plant!" He* repeated the warning in the voice of his fan; but the old woman knew nothing of it, and went away step by step. He was so anxious that he was still shaking the fan as hard as he could, until his master's back was out of sight, and he realized that the warning was ineffective.
No one but the scarecrow fretted about the rice. He could not wait to jump over and extinguish the roots of the disaster; he could not wait to ask the wind to carry a message to the master to come quickly to eradicate the disaster. His body was already very thin, and now with the sadness, even more emaciated, even the strength to stand up straight is no longer there, just slanting shoulders, hunched over, as if sick.
In less than a few days, in the rice paddies, the moth's seed turned into fleshworms, everywhere. In the dead of night, the scarecrow heard the sound of them chewing on the rice leaves, and saw their mouths as they ate more and more. Gradually, a large thick green rice all gone, leaving only the bare stalks. He was pained and could not bear to look at it any longer, and thinking that his master's hard work this year could only be replaced by tears and sighs, he could not help but bow his head and cry.
This time the weather is very cool, and in the field at night, the cold wind blew the scarecrow shivering; only because he was crying, did not feel. Suddenly there came a woman's voice: "Who did I think it was, but it was you." He was taken aback, and only then did he feel very cold on his body. But what could be done? He in order to do his duty, and action involuntarily, although cold, but also had to stand there. He looked at the woman, who turned out to be a fisherwoman. In front of the field was a river, and the fisherwoman's boat was parked by the river, with a faint firelight in the cabin. She was putting the fishnet she had raised to the bottom of the river; it sank, and she sat down on the bank and waited a while to pull it up.
The sound of a child's coughing came from the cabin now and then, and a sleepy, thin voice calling for her mother. It made her anxious, and she pulled hard on the net, always as if it was very poorly fitted, and came back almost empty. The child in the cabin was still coughing and shouting, so she said to the cabin, "Sleep well! I'll make you porridge tomorrow when I get some fish. How can I get fish when you keep calling me and screaming my heart out!"
The child couldn't help himself, but shouted, "Mom, I'm thirsty! Give me some tea!" Then there was another coughing fit.
"There's no tea here! Be honest for a while, my ancestor!"
"I'm thirsty!" The child actually cried out. The cry was especially dismal in the empty nighttime field.
The fisherwoman, unable to do anything else, put down the rope that was pulling the fishnet, got into the boat, went into the cabin, picked up a bowl, scooped up a bowl of water from the river, and turned to give it to the child to drink. The child drank the water down in one gulp, he was so thirsty. But no sooner had the bowl been put down than he coughed again; and more sharply, and then there was nothing but wheezing.
The fisherwoman, unable to care more for the child, went ashore again to pull her fishnet. For a long, long time there was no sound from the cabin, and her fishnet was empty a few times before she got a carp, seven or eight inches long, the first catch of its kind, and she took the fish out of the fishnet with great care, and put it in a barrel, and then lowered the fishnet again. This barrel for the fish was next to the feet of the scarecrow.
This time the scarecrow was even sadder. He pitied the sick child, who was so thirsty that he could not get a sip of tea, and so sick that he could not sleep with his mother. He also pitied the fisherwoman, who was planning tomorrow's porridge in the cold night, so he had to be hard-hearted and leave the sick child behind. He hated to make wood for the child's tea; he hated to make bedding for the child, to give him some warmth; and he hated to take away the spoils of the little flesh-worms, and give them to the fisherwoman to make porridge for her. If he had been able to walk, he would have done at once what his heart desired; but, unfortunately, his body, like the trees, was fixed in the earth, and he could not move even half a step. There was nothing he could do, and the more he thought about it, the sadder he became, and the more bitterly he cried. Suddenly there was a snap, and he was startled, and stopped crying, and saw what was the matter; it turned out that the carp had been thrown in the barrel.
There was very little water in the barrel, and the crucian carp was lying on the bottom of the barrel, and only the side underneath him was able to get some dampness. It was very difficult for the carp to escape, so it jumped upward with all its might. After jumping several times, it was blocked by the high frame of the barrel, and still fell on the bottom of the barrel, and its body hurt a lot from the fall. The carp's upward eye saw the scarecrow and begged, "My friend, put down the fan in your hand for a moment and save me! If I leave my home in the water, I shall only die. Kind friend, save me!"
Hearing the carp plead so earnestly, the scarecrow was very much distressed; but all he could do was to shake his head vigorously. He meant to say, "Please forgive me, for I am a weak and incompetent man, O! My heart would have been willing to save not only you, but the woman who caught you and her child, and all who suffer besides you, the fisherwoman and the child. But how can I do what my heart desires, when I am set in the dirt, like the trees, and cannot move even half a step freely! Forgive me, O I am a weak and impotent man!"
Carp didn't understand the scarecrow, only saw him shaking his head repeatedly, and his anger burned like fire. "And what a hard thing it is! How dare you not have a little heart and just shake your head! It turns out I was wrong, why beg others for my own difficulties! I should have done it myself, thought of a way out, and if it didn't work out, it would have been nothing more than a death, what's that worth!" Carp shouted loudly, and jumped upward again with great force, this time using twelve percent of its strength, even the tips of its tail and pectoral fins stood up.
When the scarecrow saw that the carp had misunderstood him, and that there was no way to explain it to the carp, he was so grieved that he sighed and cried at the same time. After a while, he looked up and saw that the fisherwoman was asleep, with one hand still holding the rope for pulling the fishnet; this was because she was so tired that she could not support herself at last, even though she was thinking of tomorrow's porridge. Where were the carp in the bucket? The sound of jumping could not be heard, and the tail seemed to be still rattling intermittently. Scarecrow thought, this night is a lot of painful things all together, really a sad night! But look at the little robbers who ate the rice leaves; they were so happy and full that they were dancing on the bare stalks. Is there anything more pathetic in the world than the fact that the harvest of rice is counted over, and the aging strength of the master is wasted!
The night grew darker, and even the stars seemed lightless. The scarecrow suddenly felt a dark figure coming from the bank of the field on the side, and when she came nearer, and looked more closely, it turned out to be a woman, in a fat, short coat, with disheveled hair. She stood still, looked at the fishing boat parked by the river; turned around, and walked toward the river bank; not more than a few steps, and then stood straight there again. The scarecrow thought it strange, and kept an eye on her.
A very sad sound came from her mouth, faint, broken, and audible only to the Scarecrow, who was accustomed to hearing all the smallest sounds of the night.
The voice said, "I'm not a cow or a pig, how can I let you sell me to just anyone! I want to run, can't wait for tomorrow really by you sold to others. You have a little bit of money, either gambling two lost or drink a few days of yellow soup spent, what's the use! Why must you force me? There is no other way but to die! I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do that, but I'm going to be able to do it, and I'm not going to be able to do it. These words and where into words it, crying sobbing, voice are stirred.
The Scarecrow was very much alarmed that another tragic thing had met him.
She was going to seek death! He was anxious, trying to save her, not knowing why himself. He shook his fan again and tried to wake the sleeping fisherwoman. But he couldn't do it, the fisherwoman slept as if she were dead, and didn't move a muscle. He hated himself, should not be like a tree in the mud, can not even move half a step. Isn't it a sin to see death? He himself was committing such a sin. It was a pain worse than death, wow! "Oh, God, lighten up! Farmers, get up! Birds fly to report the news!
The wind blow away her thoughts of seeking death!" Thus he prayed silently; but it was still dark all around, and there was not a sound. His heart was broken, and, afraid to look but unable not to, he stared timidly at the dark figure standing by the river.
The woman stood silent for a moment, her body peeking forward a few times. The scarecrow knew the dreaded time had come, and the fan in her hand clapped louder. But she didn't jump, and stood straight up again.
After a long while more, she suddenly raised her arms, and her body sprang toward the river as if she had fallen. When the scarecrow saw this, he did not wait to hear her fall in the water, but fainted.
The next morning the peasants passed by the bank of the river and found the dead body in it, and the news spread at once. Men and women from the left side of the river ran to see it. The noise of the people woke the soundly sleeping fisherwoman, who looked at the carp in the barrel and saw that it was stiff and dead.
She took the barrel and walked back to the cabin; the sick child woke up, his face looked thinner, and he coughed harder. The old peasant woman went with everyone else to the river to see it; walking past her own rice paddies, she stopped by to take a look. I did not expect only a few days of work, finished, rice leaves and ears are gone, leaving only straight and stiff bare stalks. She was so anxious that she stamped her feet, beat her chest and cried loudly. Everyone ran over to ask her to persuade her to see the scarecrow fell in the middle of the field.