Listen attentively

The afterglow of the setting sun is covered with valleys, and the tulips on the lake sway in the breeze. On a green grass field, the warm summer breeze brings fresh greetings. It is a young sambar, in the endless wilderness, feel the aroma of fresh grass, enjoy the sunshine under the blue sky... oh. Two gunshots, accompanied by painful mourning, and the horrible laughter... He is a hunter, a seasoned hunter, he does not make a living by hunting, but is chasing and hunting. Pleasure and blood stimulation, in his eyes, there is no warm sunshine, no beautiful tulips, only constant prey, and a string of footprints that represent its trail...

The fire-like sun hangs high in the sky, and the energetic waves run in the sea breeze. He is a whale, preying on krill in the warm current... With two screaming guns, two cold light pierce it. The body, followed by the rushing blood and endless cheers, are drowned in this blood-stained sea... He is a whaler, an excellent whaler, whether it is the cold Arctic Ocean, or The heat is hard to bear in the Indian Ocean, and he has left his harpoon. In his eyes, there is no sunny beach, no smiling waves, only the sky-water column, and the crying cry of the baby...

As time passed, the once arrogant hunters and whalers had already turned into white-haired old people, reminiscing about the past stories, consuming a few moments in their memories, and encountering them on a seaside trip. In a short conversation, I rekindled the fighting spirit left by the other side, regained the shotgun and fishing fork that followed my many years of love, and re-entered the road that had made them excited...

The erosion of the years has already made the two old people weak, one can't aim the prey as before, and the other can't throw the whaling fork as powerfully as before. So, in the face of the elderly who can't overcome the difficulties, they have to choose to give up. Sitting on the beach at the same time, recovering strength in the breeze and the fine waves. Looking calmly at this beautiful sea, the old man who has come to this beach for hunting many times has experienced the beauty of such scenery from the end.

On the rippling surface of the sea, a few lively porpoises surfed in the air, a red sun hangs in the sky, the breeze blows away the exhaustion, the waves kiss their feet..., everything is so calm, everything is So beautiful, the two old people are immersed in this beautiful scenery, as if swimming in the natural waves, melting in the cool breeze, deep in the heart, in the embrace of nature, there is always an invisible wall, all the time In isolation of the heart and the stars, the two old people, in the movement of nature, desperately want to integrate into the beautiful nature, but can never break through the invisible wall... Yes, they will never forget, they will never forget the killings that are repeated again and again, the wounds that are like a column, the eyes that are desperately struggling, the sadness and desolateness... and the two old people I tempted my inner excitement and tried to calm myself down, as if I had returned to the exciting youth. The hunter threw the gun and walked slowly to the sambar, gently stroking its high forehead. The young sambars are not afraid, the relatives say hello to the old people, they share the silence of the moment..., the two sharp gunshots, the bullets penetrated its heart, the bright red blood spewed out, the sambar Falling down, it looked at the old man with a look of desperation and looked at the last sky. The old man was angry and the tears of hatred blurred his eyes. The old man raised his gun and aimed at the proud hunter. In an instant, the gun From the fingertips of the old man, the cruel hunter was the younger one. At that moment, the heart of the old man was broken, and the tears rushed down. The old man squatted in front of the deer, using the already soft hands. With the body of the deer, the tears wet the clothes, drowning his already broken heart. The pleasure of being proud of killing has long ceased to exist, and it is drowned in the tears of remorse, leaving only an incomparable old man. , crying, crying...

And the whaler lost his beloved whaling fork, swimming in the calm sea, he swam to the whale's side, gently stroking the whale's greasy and hard skin, dancing with the whales in the water, his first time Feel the cuteness and kindness of the whale... At this time, two cold light hits and pierced the skin of the whale. The whale who was just swimming quickly became mad. The blood ran down the wound and stained the sea. The old man tried his best to make the whale. Calm, but he could do nothing, watching the elf who was still playing in the water, but now sinking in pain and despair, he screamed wildly at the whaler, but he found that it was when he was young. He himself suddenly became soft, and he sank into the sea in the powerless shouts and remorse, sinking into the sea that was stained with blood, and could not tell whether it was sea water or tears, and there was only one old man who was extremely remorseful. Sink, sink...

The two old men woke up from their dreams, wiped the tears of their eyes, looked at each other, and smiled politely, but could not cover the bitterness of their hearts. After this moment of silence, the two The old man gently greets the beautiful sea...

One, leaving the last bullet in the shotgun to himself, he was reborn in blood and self-redemption, and the other, with his beloved whaling fork silently heading for the sea, but the eyes are full of hope, in the warmth At the moment when the sea drowned the heart, he was reborn in the clear water...

The afterglow of the setting sun covered the sea, the cheerful waves kept running, a sambar came to the beach alone, a whale swam out of the water, swam to the beach, and looked at the Sambar, in the eyes, it was kind, Innocent, or only the two people know the self-evident touch and release, they look to the sunset, look to the white clouds, calmly blend into this cool wind, that is, love, is kind...

The third day of Changchun City, Jilin Province, the third day: the angel of the wing