四十年前,一个荒僻的山村里。灯光下的母亲,用一只长把的铁勺,缓缓地搅着一大锅热气腾腾的芸豆稀粥,粥稀得几乎能数得清有几粒芸豆。灶膛里的柴火烧得“噼啪”直响,一团温暖的火焰。六个身形单薄的孩子,乖乖地围坐在红色的炕桌旁,最大的十一二岁,最小的两三岁。这几个孩子,不论是男孩儿还是女孩儿,也不论年龄是大还是小,清瘦的小脸儿上,只有眼睛大得出奇。孩子们眼巴巴地盯着母亲、盯着锅里的稀粥。家里粮食有限, Forty years ago, in a remote mountain village. Under the light of the mother, with a long iron spoon, slowly stirring a large pot of steaming kidney kidney gruel, porridge is almost able to count out a few grains of kidney beans. Burning hearth firewood “snapped ” straight ring, a warm flame. Six thin kid, obediently sitting around the red kang table, the largest eleven two years old, the youngest two or three years old. These children, be they boys or girls, or young or old, have only large, surprising eyes. The children gazed staring at the mother, staring at the gruel in the pan. Home food is limited,