北方平原上的一个村庄。农历七月,中午时分,火球般的太阳喷射着毒辣辣的白光,把土地烤得焦黄,泥土路上有层厚厚的尘土,抓上一把让人觉得可以当炒面吃了。上了年纪的人心里头想,要不是老天爷在暗中保佑,这房子、这树、这麦地都得冒烟起火。老黄牛卧在榆树下,尾巴驱赶着牛虻,鼻子上有一层油汪汪的汗,身上散发出一股青草、牛屎、汗臭混合在一起的味道,大眼睛半睁半眯着,呆呆望向远处。村子里的人正在地里忙活着抢收麦子。 A village on the northern plains. Lunar New Year in July, noon, the fireball-like sun spray poisonous spicy white, the ground baked yellow, thick layer of dust on the dirt road, caught on the one that people can think when eating fried noodles. In the heart of the old man, whether it be God blessed in secret, this house, this tree, this field of wheat must have smoke. Under the elm trees, the old ox drove the ox with its tail, and there was a layer of oily sweat on the nose that exuded a taste of mixed grass, cow feces and sweaty smell. His eyes were half-naked, To the distance. The people in the village are busy harvesting wheat in the fields.