Although Qi Lao Er was afraid of my great-grandfather, he wasnt a good guy either. He tilted his neck and after drinking a mouthful of wine, shouted: "Whats going to happen in half a year?"

  Great-grandfather didnt want to conflict with him, and kindly advised: "Its nothing, there are still a few empty rooms in the east of the village, I advise you to move over as soon as possible."

  He usually thought he was one of the most powerful men in the village, but he was afraid of Lao Xias family. He had been holding back his anger for a long time and finally burst out with a red face: "You just say it, isnt it said that he would die within three days? You didnt say I wouldnt last half a year? Lets make a bet, dare you? If I can hold on, Lao Xia, then you have to put up eight dishes and personally invite me to your home to sit at the head of the table and call me Qi Ye!"

  "Half a year later, I will personally collect your corpse!" his great-grandfather said with a smile as he stood up.

  Zi Lao Er is a butcher, and rural butchers are only busy before the Chinese New Year. Pigs are very valuable assets for farmers at that time. About half a month before the Spring Festival, every household will slaughter pigs, reserve some meat for the festival, and sell some in town to exchange for festive goods.

  Butchers in rural areas have some status, and in the past, killing pigs in rural areas was an occasion to invite guests to eat. We call it "killing pig wine". Whoever kills a pig will invite their neighbors to come and have a meal together, on the condition that others will help you catch the pigs trotters and scald the pigs hair. After finishing, at night, they would cook a big pot of braised pork and pig offal, eating meat and drinking wine in large mouthfuls.

  In the era of material scarcity, killing pigs and drinking wine was a satisfying experience, and it was only on that day and during the Chinese New Year that people could eat relatively richly. Rural people did physical labor, and when they ate meat, they didnt hesitate at all. At this banquet, the pig butcher would sit in the seat of honor, which is a respect for craftsmen since ancient times in China.

  After drinking and eating, Qi Lao Er buckled a short knife on his waist, with a greasy mouth, holding an extra pound of pork liver and some minced meat given by the hosts family, humming a little tune contentedly as he swaggered back to the mansion. The children at home were all looking forward to what was in his hands.

  Unfortunately, this scene only appears during the New Years season. Normally, Old Qis family rarely sees even half a point of meat, and poverty is equally shared among everyone.

  After the argument with my great-grandfather, those rascals from the Xia family would often hang around in front of the Qi familys mansion, carrying long poles and short knives. The arrogance of Qi Lao Er was somewhat subdued, at least in Hong Village, during that era, the Xia familys influence was unmatched. Except for a family surnamed Li who had just moved there, two brothers, the elder one was also very robust, the younger one was clever, but they were the only ones who didnt provoke people from the Xia family. Later, the elder brother of the Li family disappeared, and it was said that he went to join the army, and later on, I heard Li Er Ye say that his older brother died in battle.

  In the third or fourth month, it was the time when green and yellow did not intersect. The vegetables in the vegetable garden were still green, and the grain in the field had just been sown. At that time, rural women had another task besides working in the fields, washing clothes and cooking at home, which was to pick pig grass.

  Qizis family also raised pigs, two of them, one big and one small. The bigger one was kept until autumn before being slaughtered and sold for money, while the smaller one was kept until after the New Year.

  After a day of busy farming, the peasant woman went to cut pig grass again, which was very tiring. If she wanted convenience, she would choose nearby. In the vegetable garden, white radish is planted, and its leaves are long and numerous, making it an excellent material for pigs to eat.

  But radish leaves also have a deadly place for pigs, that is, the chlorophyll content is too high. If its not cooked thoroughly and eaten by pigs, they can easily die of poisoning, which is also the most common cause of death in rural pig farming.

  Old Qis second familys piglet was bought in early spring, weighing only 20-30 kilograms. After eating the radish dish fed by his wife that noon, it soon vomited white foam and convulsed its limbs, and didnt make it to nightfall before dying.

  This pig is considered to have died of illness, and Qi Lao Er was so angry that he gave his wife a good scolding. In those days, livestock were valuable fixed assets for farmers. The dead pig, Qi Lao Er couldnt bear to bury it. The weather in April was neither cold nor hot. Refrigerators were rare items that rural areas could not have at that time, and making cured meat was already out of season. Moreover, even if this sick pig had been bled quickly, its flavor would not be comparable to fresh pork.

  Qī Lǎo èr was originally a butcher, and with three or five cuts of the knife, he removed the internal organs and obtained about 100 catties of white meat. In the evening, he went to the small grocery store to buy a catty of white wine, and asked his wife to stir-fry the meat. While eating, he was heartbroken but also devouring it in big mouthfuls. After three rounds of drinking, he came up with an idea, went to break off some pine branches, and brought them back to hang in the courtyard to make smoked meat.

  After the meat is smoked with twigs, the fat will be squeezed out and the moisture will be dried, which can be used as a way to preserve for a long time.

  The place for smoking meat was chosen in the courtyard, and there was a six-sided ancient well in the middle of the courtyard of this large mansion. When Qi Lao Er moved in, the well was sealed. The sealant used was a pile of brown mud, similar to the yellow mud used to seal wine jars.

  The villages water source at that time mainly relied on manual labor to carry water from the river, which was time-consuming and labor-intensive. After Qi Lao Er moved into the big house, he didnt say a word and knocked open the sealed ancient well. The water in the well was indeed sweet, but since then, the Qi family always felt that their home was several degrees colder than others.

  The smoked meat was just by the side of this well, the meat was divided into several catties per strip, set up on a rack, and ignited with pine resin below. When the fragrance of the meat gradually replaced the smell of smoke, the moon had already climbed halfway up the mountain.

  Qī Lǎo èr looked at the pile of still-burning charcoal, thinking that he might as well just leave it like that, and by tomorrow morning, the meat would be done. He picked up the wine jug from the ground, took a swig, and stumbled back to his house.

  Unfortunately, after Qi Lao Er walked in, he never came out again.

  In the second half of the night, flames shot up to the sky in the courtyard, and the cries of women and children could not stop the raging fire after all. The mansion with a high horse-head wall was left with only half a collapsed wall overnight.

  At that time, the best fire-fighting tool was just a bucket of water. The men and women, young and old, in the village joined forces to finally put out the fire by dawn. A few brave men went inside to take a look and found Qi Lao Ers wife and three children huddled in the corner of the room, their bodies all charred. Everyone was too busy to rest, and they searched the house again from front to back, but Qi Lao Er was nowhere to be seen.

  Some people said that Qi Lao Er was burned to ashes in that big fire and disappeared directly. No matter how people burn, bones will always leave some behind. Later, the house was demolished, and later, a school was built on that land, and many things happened, of course, thats another story.

  The father wants to build a house, the most difficult thing is the brick. The mountain in the village produces yellow soil, which has strong viscosity. Mixing straw into it, using wood as a mold, drying out the water and then putting it in the kiln for firing, this is the main way to get bricks.

  This is a bitter task, working in the fields during the day and burning bricks at night. Father worked hard for half a month and only managed to burn one cart of bricks. Someone suggested that he go back to the old house of Qi Lao Ers family and bring back the unburned bricks that had been knocked down.

  My father thought for a moment, and it was also a good idea. In fact, many people wanted to demolish that batch of bricks, but they were all afraid of the house being burned down and having so many lives lost inside, so no one dared to move. My father was born not to believe in evil spirits, especially since my grandfather always liked to talk about gods and ghosts, he had to do the opposite. The young man was also young and vigorous, and he pushed the cart back with a loud noise, invited a bricklayer, and really built several large rooms.

  This house, I also lived in it when I was a child. The green bricks have been blackened by smoke in many places, and my father would apply a layer of lime on the outside. Even in the sweltering summer, inside this house, people would still feel cool and refreshing. My grandfather almost never came here, not until after I was born, when he would occasionally come, but he never entered the door, saying that the house was unclean.

  The contradiction between my father and grandfather also originated from that house. Since the house was built, my grandfather always came over with incense sticks, saying that the house was uninhabitable, that the bricks of a house where someone had died were the same as tombstones, too gloomy. My father obviously didnt want to buy into my grandfathers account, and the two of them constantly quarreled, eventually becoming like fire and water, unable to coexist.

  When the civil war was about to end, my father went out to be a soldier and followed the troops to witness the establishment of New China. Later, his unit was sent to Korea, where he was shot in the thigh and injured, and after being sent to the hospital for a short time, he was sent back home. By the time he recovered from his injury, the Korean War had also ended, and my father retired from the army and returned to Hongcun alone again. That year, through the matchmaking of my aunt, my father married my mother, and then I was born.

  I was born in 1960, during that famous three-year natural disaster, and the year I was born, something even more sensational happened in our village...