When I was young

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I don't remember how long ago it was, but it seems like I knew Alan and Xiaohui from the moment I was born. I was born in the middle of the night. My mother was fast asleep when she noticed her blanket was soaked and she was in excruciating pain. She immediately realized she was going into labor. She woke my father and told him to call my third aunt to help with the delivery. The houses in the countryside are very close together, and my third aunt was the village's midwife. She had delivered dozens of babies and was very skilled. That's how I came into this world. Xiaohui was my third aunt's adopted daughter, three years older than me. There's a legend in the countryside that midwives can't give birth because their hands are too bloody. I don't know if it's true, but my third aunt definitely hadn't had any children. Maybe it was a morning in October when my third aunt opened the wooden door and found a white cloth bundle lying on the ground. She went over and lifted it, and inside was a sleeping little girl. My third aunt was already forty years old at that time and had long lost hope of having a child. She never expected this to happen. She kept muttering, "How could parents be like this?" She said, "This little baby is so cute," and decided to treat her as her own daughter, giving her a name she had already chosen: Liu Hui. This news quickly spread throughout the tiny village. Every time a child in the village celebrated their 100th day with a celebration, my third aunt always sat in the seat of honor, and this time was no exception. However, this time her smile was full of joy, unlike before. When my mother told me these things, the smile on her face was also different from before; I wonder if they were the same? When I turned one, my father went to work in the city, and a year later, my mother went there too. I was then raised by my grandmother. At that time, I had just learned to walk, and it was mostly limb movement. My grandmother had a lot of farm work to do every day and couldn't carry me all the time, so she asked my five-year-old cousin, Alan, to look after me. The countryside is full of mountains and rivers, offering plenty of places to play. Lun Ge, originally a "wild man" who ran off to the mountains every day, now has me, his little burden, so he has to take me with him every day to play with a group of children in the nearby fields. The village children all play in groups. Everyone in our village has the surname Liu. The surrounding area is full of terraced fields, with the village houses nestled among them. At night, the sky is incredibly dark, as if shrouded in a black cloth. But the moon here is exceptionally bright, illuminating the night path as soon as it rises, even though it only appears two or three times a month. When there's no moon, the sky is filled with a dazzling array of stars, each one hanging on the black cloth, distant and magnificent. When my grandfather was young, there were still insects in the mountains. By my father's generation, only wild boars remained. By my generation, the vast green mountains are home to only small animals like snakes and rabbits. However, due to more and more young people going out to work, this situation is reversing. A few years ago, when I went back, my grandmother told me that wild boars had returned to the mountains. I didn't know whether to be happy or sad. Xiao Hui first met me around that time, and afterwards, Alan, she, and I spent ten years in our hometown. When I was four, I also became a "wild child," running into the mountains with my brother Lun every day, carrying back two loads of firewood. There were only a few places to cut firewood in the village, so I encouraged Xiao Hui to come along and collect firewood. There wasn't much to eat in the mountains, only wild plums and wild buds. But the three of us would cheer wildly if we found a piece of dead wood, as if it were a priceless treasure. When we got home to burn firewood, we would hold up the firewood we had collected and tell Grandma, "This is what I collected today." Who could believe such joy if we didn't look back? There's a stream on the mountain where we used to chop firewood. Due to the undulating terrain, it forms a small waterfall. Behind the waterfall, about twenty meters high, are smooth, moss-covered rocks, except for a dark hole about a person's height on the left. I've asked my grandmother more than once how that hole came to be, and she always patiently answers, "I don't know either." Once, while herding cattle on the mountain, I saw that hole by the roadside and couldn't help but wonder what was inside. Lost in thought, I was pushed up by the herd behind me, and they kicked me. All I remember is hanging on the wooden bridge by the roadside. Even now, I still don't know what's inside that dark hole. When I was little, it was because I couldn't; now, is it because I'm afraid, or because I don't want to? I don't know.

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When I was young

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