早年,我有个本家大爷,方脸膛,一米八几的个子,身材很魁梧,走路落地有声。按说这样的男人不应该打光棍,可不知什么缘故,他五十多了,一直单着。我问父亲。父亲瞪我一眼,说:“一个二流子,有什么好打听的,就你多事!”母亲看了父亲一眼,扭头走开了。我看到,母亲的眼圈红了。大爷平时和村里人没什么区别,吃饭、种地、睡觉,睡觉、吃饭、种地。 Early years, I have a great uncle, square face, one meter eighty’s tall, stature, walking soundless. According to say such a man should not hit stick, but for some reason, he more than fifty, has been a single. I asked my father. Father glared at me and said: “A loafer, what to inquire about, you’re all good!” The mother looked at his father and turned away. I saw that my mother’s eye was red. Uncle usually no difference between the village people, eating, planting, sleeping, sleeping, eating, planting.