Reading comprehension answers: "Mother" by Gu Cheng, "Old House" by Zhou Kewu, "Perfect Eyes" by Li Xiaodong, "Another Kind of Cherish" by Qiao Ye

Old House Zhou Kewu

(1) In this life, no matter where I live, in my subconscious, the only time I call home is when I walk into that old house in the countryside.

(2) My old house is just an ordinary farmhouse built near the mountain, with earthen walls and blue tiles, and fir doors and windows. The rooms near the west end are still covered with straw, and the mountain breeze blows through, spreading a friendly smell of grass clippings, faintly. However, the wear and tear of the years has been ruthless. Now the old house's fish-scale tile ditch is covered with moss, the yellow mud walls are peeling off, and the two slightly bulky doors are also mottled with paint, with deep and shallow cracks, just like the crow's feet all over the forehead of an old man. .

(3) The old house is really "old". When the sun set over the mountain, I stood at the entrance of the village and looked from a distance. It seemed to be sleeping soundly. Maybe it was too tired, but it slept so peacefully and quietly.

(4) I approached the old house silently. Under the setting sun, the wind was like a Buddha's hand, gently caressing the grass and trees on the roadside without making any sound; the birds rested lazily on the trees, stretching out their pointed beaks to comb their feathers without singing. Maybe they are in the same mood as me at the moment - gently touching the dark brown door, but not daring to push it open for fear of disturbing the old house and shattering its dream.

(5) My childhood is in the dream. It was also in the evening like this, as the sun gradually set, my mother's long and short calls urging me to go home floated from the eaves. I, along with the chickens, ducks, cows and sheep, walked in the same direction - the old house with light smoke, crushing the setting sun all the way. I couldn't help but look up. The smoke from the roof seemed to still be there, and the smell of firewood rice seemed to still be there, floating and falling on the tip of my nose. At this moment, I really want to run all the way into the house like I did when I was a child. I hurriedly picked up a piece of fragrant white rice crispy rice and stuffed it into my mouth. Then I heard my mother call me a "greedy cat"...

(6) The old house is the home of the heart. When I finally stepped across the threshold, a long-lost feeling surged through my body: I ??was really home.

(7) The old house is the masterpiece of my father’s hard work. When I was a child, I often heard my father talk about how he and his family worked in the scorching heat of the red sun, hoeing and breaking the ground, with a sky full of stars above their heads, transporting wood, bricks, and sand, until the round piles were put on the beams in the harsh winter of the howling north wind. Like a spring swallow holding mud in its mouth, A finally built this nest of his own after many twists and turns. B At that time, whenever relatives and friends came to the house, my father would always pat the doors and windows with joy, or point to the rafters and beams on the house, praising him that the house was strong and durable. One autumn day, a photographer came to the village. My father, who usually didn't like taking pictures, suddenly put on his only Chinese tunic suit and took the whole family to take a picture in front of the old house. He also repeatedly told me to remember that a golden nest or a silver nest is not as good as my own doghouse.

(8) Decades have been wasted, and things have changed in the blink of an eye. Grandma and my father went to another world, and my mother also lived in the city with me. It was late at night, and I sat silently in the main room alone, with only the shadow of a lone lamp, and the whole room was deserted.

(9) The first quarter moon outside the window is thin. Maybe I had been separated from it for too long and we were already strangers to each other. It just showed half of its face, turned around, and hid in the thin clouds again. I suddenly remembered that the moon in my childhood home didn’t seem like this. At that time, it followed me wherever I went. On a summer night, my grandma put me into bed while I was enjoying the cool weather outside, and the moon quietly followed me through the window and caressed my face. I still remember my grandma sitting on the edge of the bed, fanning me and humming nursery rhymes: Moonlight, luminous light, accompanying my sweet boy... I fell asleep in a daze, and grandma's singing continued, like the gentle bright moon, Falling on my pillow, in my dream. Tonight, I can restore all the details with fragments of memory, but I can no longer hear my grandma singing. Only the quietly carved bed in the corner seemed to have reached some kind of tacit spiritual understanding with me, irrefutably witnessing the family happiness that once reigned here.

(10) And this night, I couldn't sleep for a long time.

(11) When I woke up early the next morning, the sun had just emerged. The warm sunlight cast on the roof of the old house, dyeing it a familiar golden color. I walked around inside and outside the old house. Every step I took, it seemed that I could bend down and pick up a memory from my childhood. On the threshold, my father sat with his hands on his knees and talked about the Three Kingdoms with great joy; in the side house, my mother sifted chaff, chopped vegetables and fed them to the piglets; in the bamboo forest behind the mountain, she chased and played hide-and-seek with her childhood friends; on the path in front of the house, she held a torch high and followed closely. Adults, go watch a movie... In my eyes, the old house is a big book full of love and affection. If you turn any page, you will find the warmth of the source of life.

(12) After breakfast, I stood at the door of the old house chatting with relatives and friends. My neighbor's nephew persuaded me to demolish the old house and build a stylish "small two-story" building.

(13) I shook my head: I won’t dismantle it! How did he know that without my old house, my soul could only wander around the world.

(Selected from the 3rd issue of "Prose Overseas Edition" in 2008, with some deletions.)

1. This article describes the author's return visit to the old house. Please excerpt the sentences in the article and complete the author's whereabouts.

(3 points)

Standing at the entrance of the village and looking from a distance→ (1) → (2) →Sitting silently in the main room→ (3) →Standing at the door of the old house

2. Read paragraph (2) carefully and talk about the author’s feelings contained in the description of the old house. (3 points)

3. The description in the article is delicate and touching. Refer to the example and choose one of the two underlined sentences AB describing the father in paragraph (7) to analyze. (4 points)

Example sentence: On a summer night, my grandma put me on bed while I was enjoying the cool weather outside, and the moon quietly followed me through the window and caressed my face.

Tasting analysis: The word "gentle caress" uses personification and uses the moon to vividly describe grandma's love for "me" and the spiritual comfort she gives "me".

4. The wavy line in paragraph (9) is intriguing. How to understand that "grandma's singing" falls in "my dream"? (3 points)

5. How do you evaluate the author’s decision not to demolish the old house at the end? Combine the full text and talk about it in real life.

(5 points)