Ma Chaohu's Hungry Water is the original text, not the text.

I was born in the north where water is scarce. I remember that at that time, people in our village had to go to a Koizumi, ten kilometers away, to pick draught, and they often had to wait in line for several hours to pick a load to go home. That's how I know the idiom "get to the bottom of it". For water, there will be some friction between neighbors from time to time. Especially in summer and autumn when water is cut off, the relationship in the village is even more tense. "Why don't you buy me a drink?" This is what the villagers say the most.

Rain is a day that everyone in the village is looking forward to. Only in this way can everyone get along calmly. At that time, every household built a water cellar, which could store domestic water for a long time in rainy days.

Only on rainy days can we get along calmly and have a good bath. First of all, children like us are running around naked in the rain, yelling, enjoying the touch and coolness brought by the water, looking up, opening their mouths and eating the water falling from the sky. Then, adults also joined the ranks of bathing, but their exposure is far less than ours-men wear shorts and women wear long pants, far less than our carefree.

After taking a shower, everyone met and was surprised. A man said, "Oh, why are you fat?" A man said, "Oh, you are so white." Just like festivals, there are too few such beautiful days here, and more are dry and hot. Especially in summer, after a day of farm work in the scorching sun, men, women and children have a feeling of being dried. The water stored in the water kiln is even more precious. Mother locked our thirst for water with a big lock, and the key hanging on the belt symbolizes authority, happiness and happiness. We are waiting for that moment.

Our four brothers, like four children to be dried, grew up naked in front of their mothers. Mother smiled gently, took the key from her belt and opened the water kiln. A wisp of water fell on us, and we all gasped. Then, my mother scooped a spoonful of water from the water kiln in one hand, poured it down slowly from our heads, and fanned us with a grass fan in the other. Suddenly, the coolness of the water hidden underground, coupled with the breeze, made us all feel comfortable and shouted.

The water pouring down from the top of the head glides across our faces, like a stream, slowly glides across our chests and backs along our necks, and then glides over our thighs and knees ... As the water slides, I can hear the sucking sound of every pore opening its mouth, and I can feel the blood flow in the blood vessels accelerating. Neither too much nor too little water can just wet your feet after touching every inch of your skin, and there is hardly a drop of wasted water on the ground. A spoonful of water was drunk by our skin.

Mother locked the water kiln and smiled and said to us, "You are really hungry."

This is the only "thirst" I have heard so far called "hunger"