磨坊老母儿爬上来,夜就躲到房影儿里去了。院子里那棵小枣树替样儿似的印在了地上,一动也不动。月光洒在这方方正正的小院儿,像是被男人拿墨线打过,齐齐整整的。她走进院子里,收了一簸箕豆子打算再去。一扭头,就看见了自己铺在地上的影子。愣了一会儿,她想,谁也不会相信这么苗条的身子揣过孩子。孩子睡熟了,趁 Old mom climbed the mill, the night hid to a room where the children went. The little jujube tree in the yard samples like printed on the ground, a move does not move. The moonlight sprinkled on this square little yard, like being taken by a man with ink lines, neat and tidy. She walked into the yard and collected a dustpan bean to go. As soon as he turned his head, he saw his shadow on the floor. Stunned for a moment, she thought, who would not believe such a slim body guessed the child. Children sleep well, take advantage of