By the harbour surrounded by ship chirping, rain, and fireworks, she went home

"Ugh-"

At that moment, more than 100 freighters docked in and out of Keelung Port all sucked in their breaths, and they shouted out the ten-minute ship chirping when they brought up the air that had been collected for a year. The huge sound, accompanied by the sensational firecrackers and fireworks, landed in the Renzheng Community near the West Eighth Pier, climbed the steep stairs, walked through the winding paths, broke into a sky-piercing residential house, and forced into the hiding place. My hearing in the quilt, a burst of tears came to my eyes. At twelve o'clock in the morning on the first day of the lunar calendar in the Dinghai year, I heard the most lively sadness in my life. The subtle and profound loneliness grew upward in the rain, obscuring the skylight leading to hope more and more densely.

Until I closed my eyes, I didn't know how long it was calm outside. Outside my quilt is a bright Japanese-style room, and outside the Japanese-style room is a bright corridor. Beside the corridor, the stairs lead down to the hall on the first floor. Even though it is three in the morning, the lights are still bright, and many figures of half a century old are backlit, reading the peasant calendar. From time to time, there are sparse voices, what they are discussing. Next to the corridor, the stairs go up to the bright third floor, where many relatives of the same generation are there, some can't help but close their eyes on the small sofa, while others are repeatedly folding lotus flowers in front of the table, folded...folded....

At the other end of the corridor was the same bright room. There were a few messy pairs of sneakers beside the bed. The blanket was bulging into three small hills, only a few half of the hands and feet were exposed. It was a very young Three Musketeers who were tired from playing during the day. Fell asleep inside. Between the Japanese-style room and the Sanjian guest room is a still bright toilet. The large mirror on the sink is covered by a larger red wax paper. It can only be locked from any reflective metal handles and door speakers. See your own facial features. There is a window at the end of the corridor. Outside the window is a world covered with dark clouds and drizzle. You can't see tomorrow, and you can't feel the future.

In the middle of the night, which seems gloomy and unknown, children in twos and threes are lighting butterfly cannons and sky cannons with incense that they usually worship Buddha, and celebrate the arrival of the new year with happy childlike faces. Behind their jokes, a piece of pink A4-case paper with the word "Cizhi" was pasted at the door of the brightly lit private house from morning to night, which could not attract their interest, and they did not notice a turn around. It is a huge, heavy and speechless bleak existence.

Being in that strangely quiet building that was out of tune with the festive atmosphere, I began to imagine how the fireworks from these firecrackers quickly returned to the ignition line; how these children retreated back to their homes step by step, with their loved ones. Talking and laughing at the New Year's Eve dinner; how the crowds of people at the entrance of the temple retreat like ants fleeing from all directions, and then quiet. I imagined everyone moving faster and faster, rewinding everything back to that morning.

The raindrops clacked outside the car window, and my cousin's silver sedan was driving in the rain, following the convoys in front of them, whose colors were more gloomy in the rain, from the Renzheng community next to Xiba Wharf to the city.

Just now at the uncle's house, there was a steady sound, neither big nor small. It really reached the ears of everyone present, and I also heard it in the back of the hall. It reminded her that it was time to leave and took her away, so when I came back down the hall again, the bed was empty.

Just now in the hall, there was a steady sound, and it was Senior Sister Yang who picked up a small gavel and beat the bed she had slept on for a day, waking her up. Immediately after, my cousins and cousins urged us, constantly reminding us to move quickly, so I hurriedly picked up the umbrella at the door and jogged with my cousins to pull the distance from the team in front. The long team walked out of the winding path in the rain, stepped down the steep stairs cautiously and quickly, and passed through the pools of stagnant water. sound.

With raindrops clattering on my glasses and raincoat, my vision blurred, and I was riding my motorcycle to the hospital, just in time for the last few minutes of the ICU opening. I left the raincoat and safety helmet with the rain dripping on the ground on the bench outside the door, put on the blue antibacterial clothing, inhaled and exhaled deeply, and stepped into the intensive care unit. When I was relieved again, I stepped out.

The elderly woman was lying on a different bed this time, surrounded by tubes that could not tell where they were going, her mouth gasping in and out in the oxygen mask, her eyes Slightly closed, the secreted tears flowed out from the slits of the trembling eyelashes from time to time. The edema made her body feel like a water polo, and it would burst with just one hard touch or a few accidentally dropped to the ground. So I didn't dare to touch her, so I could only stare nervously at the fluctuations of the electrocardiogram. As the adults instructed, I recited "Grandma" and "Grandma" again and again in a low voice... The fluctuations of the electrocardiogram went up and down, and drew Wave after wave of palpitating mad dog waves, waves came, eighty-seven meters, waves came, ninety-one meters, waves came again, seventy-three meters... Five minutes later, the huge wave did not I retreated, but I stepped out of the intensive care unit and breathed a sigh of relief, but my heart seemed to be shocked by the waves of mad dogs, beating rapidly.

Raindrops clacked on the umbrella, my brother and I quickly got into the taxi and headed to the Renzheng community next to Xiba Pier. I took my younger brother up the steep stairs and through the winding path. With a hint of hesitation, I walked into the piercing house that I hadn't visited for a long time. No one spoke, and nodded to my aunt and aunt to let me know of my arrival; several people were working together to cover the wine cabinet behind with a large piece of red paper, distracted for a while by my brother and I's visit, then turned around and continued their talk. Work; my cousin travels through the floors, turning on all the interior lights.

An unfamiliar woman who claimed to be a senior sister hurried into the house, and after explaining something to her aunt and aunt, she turned around and took a piece of paper to ask her cousin to fill in the names and seniority of all her in-laws and grandchildren. There was no voice in the hall. So I found a most inconspicuous corner in this busy recording space and stood up straight. My eyes were fixed on the clock, and I counted the minutes and seconds, but I hadn't noticed any different movement.

The raindrops clacked on the concrete floor, the sky was getting dark, and a few strangers began to appear on the winding road. The glass door was opened by those silhouettes, and a mobile hospital bed was pushed in. Above, I was guarding. She was seen in the ward. The nurse picked up the breathing bag, squeezed it, and the air inside was pumped into her lungs, her body bent slightly, then released, and her body lay flat again. Looking at the big clock, counting the minutes and seconds. At 5:04, the nurse looked at the clock and said the time. I also recited it in my mind, at 5:04. The nurse took off the breathing bag.

Aunt and aunt took out neatly folded new clothes. They were made of materials that would reflect light when exposed to light, and were covered with golden-orange patterns, so pretty. At this time, a strange man, old and young, appeared. They lifted her head and arms, and put her undercoat and coat; they lifted her back and feet, and put on her own trousers; they lifted her head and Arm, she slipped into her thigh-length coat. Auntie opened her private makeup box, picked up the powder puff, dipped a layer of powder, and wiped it on her face. After wiping, she picked up the red lip pencil and painted her lips along the lip line. The aunt brushed away the hair on her temples, put two large round earrings on her, then took her hand and put on a jade bracelet and a gold ring for her. The two strange men took out a pair of white socks, put them on her feet, and finally helped her put on a pair of small and exquisite red embroidered shoes.

I'm still standing in that most inconspicuous corner, I don't dare to blink, I hear the announcement of the time of death, my nose is sore, I stand there to witness the meaning of the end of life. Senior Sister told those present: "She has gone home."

Raindrops clacked on the glass windows, it was pitch black outside, only the slanting street lamps were lit in white, and every once in a while, a new group of people entered the house from a taxi in the rain. The aunt came hunched over to her bed, put her hands together, and began to sing Namo Amitabha. I also stood next to my aunt, put my palms together, followed my aunt's slow rhythm, and recited Namo Amitabha in a small voice, while noticing the two strange men erecting an iron frame around her, and took out a large golden cloth against the iron. shelf size.

Aunt brought out a bowl of rice from the kitchen and placed it at the end of her bed. My cousin came to my side and sang Namo Amitabha with my aunt and me. Her voice was as low as mine. Her face and her clothes told me that she was immersed in a dream of a fulfilled life and many children and grandchildren, not the same as the woman suffering from lung disease in the intensive care unit.

The strange man continued to shuttle in the hall and the back room. Then she was surrounded by golden curtains and I couldn't see her. Senior Sister Yang made a jar for worship outside the golden curtain, placed a three-dimensional card with exquisite craftsmanship, and filled in a few words on the empty space above. I recognize those words, her life's name and her husband's surname. People in the house came and went, more and more familiar faces, everyone walked to the altar table with a stick of incense and bowed respectfully three times.

Raindrops clacked on the balcony tiles, the large glass door was opened, and the cold wind poured in. The two unfamiliar men in the hall brought in a long string of yellow tissue paper from outside. My cousin and I took out a knife and cut open one of the bags, and began to fold the ingot. More again. At this time, three four- or five-year-old boys who were playing rough and playing broke into the open door. The aunt yelled at them in a low voice. The three boys became silent and quiet, and their momentum was like a deflated ball. Before arriving at the memorial tablet, he did three times according to his parents' orders.

I continued to fold the lotus, one by one, counting the lotus petals one after another. A lotus flower needs four layers of petals to bloom, and a layer of petals needs four petals to complete. The other three layers are different, so they need to be folded on the reverse side, so that the scriptures on the edge will be exposed, so that the lotus flower will look good, the blessings will be in place, and she will like it. The lotus folds and folds, I counted the lotus flowers one by one and put them in the big bag. The three boys played next to me and sat on the small chairs, their three eyes looking curiously at the table. Yuanbao and lotus. I told them these were for her, and she was their ancestor.

They told me that their name is the Three Musketeers, and they just fought an enemy upstairs. The enemy was called Boss Long. According to them, when the winner was about to be decided, Boss Long accidentally fell down. Crying in the room, Boss Long's sister went to see, Sister Long laughed loudly that Boss Long was a crybaby, Boss Long cried even louder, so Boss Long's mother went upstairs to scold Boss Long and Boss Long sister. The story didn't end here, they drew their hands in the air in high spirits, and continued to publicize their fierce battles and the ending of the boss dragon.

Finally, the attention of the Three Musketeers turned back to the pile of paper ingots that looked like gold and silver ingots in a treasure box. I was eager to get excited about the curiosity and freshness. I took the opportunity to pick up one yellow paper after another, Demonstrated it to the Three Musketeers again and again, the Three Musketeers wrote down the folding method, and folded one beautiful ingot after another. An hour later, the Three Musketeers folded a bag full of ingots.

Raindrops clacked on the outside of the corpse freezer. Bang, bang, bang, bang, these sounds made my heart numb. Senior Sister Yang took a small mallet and knocked on the coffin lid. Standing in a row behind the elders with many cousins kissing, answering "yes" and "yes", kneeling, standing up, buttoning and bowing, surrounding the coffin, going round and round, it turns out that the one hundred and nine flowers The paper lotus was to be placed beside her at this time. After the coffin lid was closed, it seemed that all the clouds and mists of the past would gradually sublimate in the dark and damp space with the sound of rain. , converged. In addition to the sound of rain, I can only remember the sound of change stuffed into the pocket of my coat. It turned out that this was the money in my hand.

The raindrops were beating outside the kitchen, and the tedious ceremony came to an end. My brother and I sat on the sofa moved from the hall in a daze, waiting for today's late Chinese food, and we couldn't remember what we were doing in the past New Years. ? Will there be other people who are sad as we are? The living room used to play 18 dice for Chinese New Year is now a mourning hall, and the adults are still busy from upstairs to downstairs with bloodshot eyes. In the age of no smartphone, one can only focus on sad moments of complete isolation. The next day was the first seven. We set up a stove on the wet ground, and burned countless ingots and silver papers and her clothes. I stood by the stove and watched the increasingly fierce fire, making a crackling sound, clearly. It is a fire full of energy, but it is difficult to lift people's spirits.

Raindrops clacked on my black coat and hat. The last time I walked into the funeral home, I saw an iron plate on the counter that had just been pushed out of the cremation furnace. There was a round skull on top of it, and the rest was only broken powder, exuding a wonderful smell. The ineffable and quiet and peaceful taste, these were all the skeletons of her living body.

Since we mourned the death of those who died, the rain that never stopped seems to connect the heavens and the earth, telling the deceased where to go. I said goodbye to her. The news said that Keelung had only a few hours of sunshine that month. After 100 days, we headed to the Linggu Pagoda in the suburbs of Ruifang and put her in a temporary new home. It seemed that we had really said goodbye.

Sometimes, the noise of the red-billed black bulbul outside the window would appear, the sun would sneak into the house in the afternoon, and the breeze was blowing slowly. I could still see the ten-year-old me quietly passing through the corridor, keeping my steps lightly so as not to disturb the sleeping grandma. She lay so relaxed and stable on the set out bamboo chair, holding the portable radio that was not turned off in her hand, the cool breeze gently blew in from the window, just brushing her face, just a few days ago The black hair dyed at the home barber shop shook slightly. Or, on the way home, I found that among the gathering of elderly single women at the foot of the alley, there was a familiar woman who always leaned on an umbrella on her upper body. If I meet her again, I will not feel awkward and embarrassed. Instead, say hello to her and her friends naturally. Still, I miss each time before the passing of time, and her appearance. The reason why she is for her and the reason why I am for me is the family years linked by blood.