The photographer prayed for the bad guys.

Grandpa suddenly sold the house to the pub owner.

I bought another house on Kanat Street. The house is covered with grass, but the street outside the house is quiet and tidy, leading to the distant fields.

The new house is more lovely than the previous one, and the front is painted with a warm crimson.

Sky blue windows, shutters with fences, and the roof on the left is covered with the shade of elm and bodhi trees, which is very beautiful.

There are many secluded corners in the yard and garden, which are most suitable for hide and seek.

The garden is not big, but the flowers and plants are extremely messy and very happy. In one corner of the garden is a short bathhouse, and in the other corner is a overgrown pit with a thick black wood, which is the trace of the original bathhouse after it was burned down.

The garden is next to the fence of Colonel Ovshnikov's stable, in front of which is Pietro's house selling milk.

Petrovsky is a chubby woman who talks like a bean biscuit and makes a lot of noise. Her hut is short and shabby below the horizon, covered with moss and with two small windows, staring at vilen, which is covered with forests in the distance.

Soldiers walk around vilen every day, bayonets shining white in the sun.

All the tenants in the house are strangers, and I have never met any of them.

The front yard is a Tatar, and his wife is short and fat. This woman is laughing, playing the guitar and singing loudly from morning till night.

Love is not enough, but try to find it.

Take the right path and you will gain something ahead.

Soldiers are also as fat as a ball, sitting by the window smoking. When they cough, their faces are bulging, their eyes are staring, and their voices are strange, like dogs barking.

Above the cellar and the stable, there lived two coachmen: little white-haired Peter and his dumb nephew Sheba.

There is also a lanky Tatar orderly Valleyi.

What interests me most is a tenant named "Good Things", who caters to it. The house he rented is next to the kitchen.

He has a hunchback, a black beard and kind eyes behind his glasses.

He is not very talkative, and nobody pays attention to him. Every time I invite him to dinner or tea, he always says:

"Good thing."

Grandma called him that, whether in front of him or not:

"Leonica, ask her for tea!"

Or:

"Good things, why eat so little?"

His room is full of all kinds of boxes, and there are many books written in secular fonts that are not church. I don't know a word.

There are also many bottles, copper blocks, iron blocks and lead bars, which contain liquids of various colors.

He is busy in the small room every day, covered with various colors and emitting a pungent smell.

He keeps melting things, weighing things on small scales, and sometimes burns his fingers. He would roar and blow like a cow, stagger to the wall chart and wipe his glasses.

Sometimes, he will stop at the window or anywhere in the room, stand for a long time, close his eyes and look up, motionless.

I climbed onto the roof and looked at him from the window across the yard.

The color of the alcohol lamp on the table reflected his shadow, and he wrote something on the broken book.

His two pairs of glasses are like two pieces of borneol, radiating cold green light. What is he doing? This fascinates me.

Sometimes he will stand by the window with his hands behind his back and look at me blankly, but he doesn't seem to see me at all, which makes me very angry.

He will suddenly jump back to the table in three steps and two steps, bend down, as if in a hurry to find something.

If he is rich and well-dressed, maybe I will be afraid, but he is poor and in rags, which makes me feel at ease.

The poor are not to be feared or threatened. My grandmother's pity for them and my grandfather's contempt for them have subtly made me realize this.

Everyone doesn't like "good things" very much, and they all talk about him in a sarcastic tone.

Happy soldier's wife called him "lime nose", Uncle Peter called him "pharmacist" and "wizard", and Grandpa called him "wizard" and "dangerous man".

"What is he doing?"

I asked.

Grandma said sternly:

"Don't be talkative, it's none of your business ..."

One day, I got up the courage to go to his window, controlled my heartbeat and asked:

"What are you doing?"

He seems to be afraid. He looked at me from above his glasses for a long time and held out his hand to me. That's a hand full of burns;

"Climb in!"

He asked me to climb in and climb in through the window. Oh, he's really something!

He picked me up and asked:

"Where are you from?"

We meet for dinner and tea every day, and he doesn't even know me!

"I am the landlord's grandson ..."

"Ah, yes!"

He seemed suddenly enlightened, but then he was silent.

I think it is necessary to explain to him:

"I am not Skof, not Kashlin ..."

"Oh, don't Skof, good thing!"

He put me down and stood up:

"Sit still ..."

I sat for a long time. Look at him filing the copper block clamped with pliers. Copper powder fell on the toilet paper under the pliers.

He put copper powder in a cup, put something like salt in it and poured something out of a black bottle.

The cup sizzled immediately, and a choking smoke came out, which made me cough assiduously, but he said happily:

"How, it smells bad, doesn't it?"

"yes."

"This is great, great!"

"Since it smells bad, there is nothing to smell!"

"ah? Not exactly. Have you ever played with the phalanges of sheep? "

"Sheep turn?"

"Yes, sheep turn!"

"played."

"Come on, I'll give you a lead-poured sheep to turn over."

"good!"

"Then you have to turn over quickly!"

He came and stared at Chang Yan's cup:

"I'll give you a lead sheep to turn over and don't come back, okay?"

This is really irritating. "If you don't turn me around, I won't come!"

I pouted and walked into the garden. Grandpa is busy fertilizing apple roots. It was autumn.

"Come and give me a hand!"

I asked:

"What are the' good things' doing?"

"What? He's destroying the house!

The floor is burnt out and the wallpaper is dirty!

"I want him to fuck off!"

"It should be!" I cried very Japanese.

If grandpa is not at home. Grandma will have a very interesting party in the kitchen.

The autumn rain is long, and everyone has nothing to do, so they all come: coachman, orderly, Peter whip, happy female tenant.

"Good things" always sit by the fire in the corner, silent and motionless.

The dumb Sheba played cards with the Tatars, and Valey always patted the Tatars on the nose with paper, patting and saying:

"the devil!"

Uncle Peter brought a piece of white bread and a jar of jam. He handed out the slices of bread with jam to everyone, and everyone bowed to them:

"Please join us!"

When someone picks it up, he wants to see his hand. If there is a drop or two of jam on it, he will lick it clean.

Besides, Peter Rhona brought a bottle of cherry candy, and the happy woman brought candy.

So, grandma's favorite entertainment-banquet-began.

Autumn rain, autumn wind, swaying branches, cold and wet outside, but warm as spring inside, everyone sat next to each other, and the atmosphere was harmonious.

Grandma happily told one fairy tale after another. Each one sounds better than the other.

She sat on the edge of the kang, leaning over the faces of people illuminated by class. When she is happy, she always sits on it and says:

"Well, I'm going to speak, but I have to sit up!"

I sat next to her with "good things" at my feet.

Grandma told a wonderful story about a soldier Ivan and a hermit Milana:

Once upon a time, there was a vicious supervisor Gao Erkang.

Black snake and scorpion;

My mind is full of bad ideas,

Bullying the weak and oppressing the disabled.

Who does he hate most?

I hate hermit Milana the most.

Milana defends the truth,

Help the weak and the disabled.

The supervisor sent a soldier Ivan;

"Ivan, kill that old man."

"Proud hermit Milana!"

"Cut off his head,"

"Stop him."

"I am relieved to feed the dog meat!"

Ivan had to take action,

Thinking hard all the way is very heavy:

"Things have to kill people,"

"God doomed me!"

Hiding on a sharp knife,

Ivan came to the old man.

Bow the busy greeting:

"Is the old man in good health?"

"May God keep you safe?"

Prophet old man smile, light qi lips spoke:

"Come on, little Ivan,"

"Why hide the knife in a smile!"

"God knows everything,"

"Good and evil are in his hands!"

"I have a bottom in my heart about the purpose of your coming!"

Ivan blushed at this.

How dare you invade your master?

I had to pull out my sheath to shake his hand,

"Milana, I don't want this knife to touch you."

"It's bad for you."

"Now tell the mattress,"

"Finally, pay tribute to God."

"For you, for me, for all mankind,"

"I'm going to kill you!"

Milana fell to his knees,

Salute to the little oak tree.

The oak tree shook its head as if laughing.

The old man said:

"Ivan, Ivan, don't worry!"

"Praying for all mankind is a great event!"

"Kill me if you can't wait."

"The master will blame you if you can't finish the task!"

Ivan blushed when he heard this.

Boast like a cow;

"As promised, there is no discount."

"Pray for a hundred years and wait."

Mirana prayed until evening,

Night becomes dawn,

From spring to summer, summer to autumn,

Year after year, there are no bosses everywhere.

The little oak tree grows into a big oak tree,

Oak seeds also grow into oak forests,

Mirana's prayers continue.

To this day, he is still praying,

Crying about the world,

Ask god to help people,

Pray for saints to give people a happy mood.

Ivan the soldier stood beside him,

Bao Dao turned into mud and was crushed to dust.

Armor, clothes, ashes,

Standing naked in vilen.

In the hot summer sun,

In winter, the wind is blowing,

Mosquitoes feed on blood endlessly,

Some wolves and bugs don't bite,

He didn't move!

He can't move, he can't talk,

God's punishment for him is terrible.

You shouldn't listen to the bad guys,

Loyalty should be divided into good and evil.

Helping others to do evil will not come to a good end.

Milana is still praying,

Tears flow into rivers and seas,

Run to God and never look back.

When grandma started telling this story, I don't know why, "good thing"

Seems a little uneasy.

Take off your glasses for a while, put them on again for a while, move your hands back and forth, nod your head, touch your face and wipe your forehead, as if you were sweating.

If someone in the audience moved and disturbed grandma's story, he would put up a finger:

"Before ..."

Sign for attention.

Grandma said, he stood up and walked back and forth, gesturing excitedly:

"Great, write it down, you should write it down, that's great ..."

He is crying! Tears ran down my cheeks.

He fumbled in the kitchen, stumbling, ridiculous and pitiful.

Everyone is a little at a loss, grandma said:

"Yes, you write. I have many similar stories ... "

"I want this, authentic Russian flavor!"

He stood in the middle of the kitchen, waving his hands in the air and talking about it. One of them repeatedly said:

"Don't let others lead you by the nose, right, right!"

Suddenly, his words came to an abrupt end.

He looked at everyone and bowed his head shyly.

They laughed with a bang and grandma sighed.

Petro asked Fu Na:

"Is he angry?"

"No, that's what he said."

Uncle Peter replied, he said:

"These gentlemen, Moody ..."

"I'm afraid it's the strange temper of a bachelor!"

Valleyi said. Everyone laughed.

I think "good things" are surprising and a little sad.

He didn't come back until the next afternoon. He looked embarrassed and said modestly:

"I'm very sorry, you weren't angry with me yesterday, were you?"

"What anger?" Grandma was surprised.

"Well, I can't help myself, butt in ..."

Grandma seems a little afraid of him and avoids his eyes.

He approached again and said:

"I have no relatives, very lonely, and I want to talk to you ..."

"Then why don't you get married?"

"alas!" He sighed and left.

Grandma sniffed the snuff and said to me with a serious expression:

"Be careful, don't always follow him, who knows what he is ..."

But I just find him attractive.

I was deeply moved by his expression when he said "very lonely". This is something that touches my heart and I can understand it.

I can't help looking for him again.

His room is in a mess, and everything is in a mess.

I found him sitting in a hole in the garden, leaning his head against the blackened wood.

He looked at the front, staring at the horizon with ecstasy, and finally said to himself:

"Looking for me?"

"no"

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing!"

He wiped his glasses and said:

"Come here."

I went over and sat next to him.

"Well, sit down and don't talk, ok? How's your temper? Is it embarrassing? "

"hey."

"Good thing."

Silence.

In the autumn evening, colorful plants and trees tremble in the cool breeze; In the clear sky, the western Western jackdaw passed by.

Silence fills the whole space, the gloomy heart cools down silently, and people become groggy. Only thoughts are floating.

Wandering thoughts wrapped in sad clothes, strolling in the boundless sky, crossing mountains and mountains, crossing the sea and crossing rivers … I leaned against his warm body, looked up at the red sky through the black branches of the apple tree, and watched the cardinals fly in the air.

I saw several goldfinches tearing at the dried fruits of burdock flowers, looking for edible seeds in them, and saw the blue ones fading, and the old crow flying to the nest in the cemetery ... What a beautiful nature ... He took a deep breath and asked:

"Beautiful? Is it cold? Is it wet?

Oh, how nice! "

It is getting dark. He said:

"Let's go ..."

Go to the edge of the garden, he said:

"Your grandmother is so kind!"

He closed his eyes and read:

God's punishment for him is terrible. He shouldn't listen to the bad guys.

Loyalty and righteousness should be divided into good and evil, and aiding and abetting will not have a good end.

"Oh, you should remember these words, remember!"

He took me and asked:

"Can you write?"

"No."

"It's very useful to learn quickly and write down what grandma said ..."

We became friends.

From that day on, I can go to him at any time.

I sat on his broken box and watched him melt lead and burn copper. His face keeps changing: wooden files, files, gauze and fine wire saws ... He pours all kinds of liquids into cups and watches them smoke.

The room was filled with the smell of others. He bit his lip and sang the following words to the book from time to time:

Shaliang Rose ... "What are you doing?"

"Do one thing."

"What?"

"Ah, to say, you don't understand ..."

"My grandfather said, you are making fake money ..."

"Where's your grandpa? He is talking nonsense. How can ... "

"So, what do you use to buy bread?" "

"Buy bread? Ah, that will cost money! "

"Also, buy beef!"

He smiled gently and grabbed my ear:

"You caught me!"

"We don't make any noise ..."

Sometimes, he no longer works. We looked out of the window from house to house and watched the autumn rain falling on the roof, grass and apple branches.

He doesn't talk unless absolutely necessary. If I need to pay attention to anything, he often just pushes me and winks at me.

With this push and blink, I felt as if what I saw was particularly meaningful, and I remembered it at once.

For example, a cat ran to a pool and suddenly stopped. It looks at its own shadow in the water and raises its claws to catch it!

"Good thing" said:

"Cats are always suspicious ..."

The rooster flew to the fence and almost fell down. It was obviously angry, shouting!

"Oh, what a big shelf, but not smart enough ..."

Valleye, who foolishly surrendered, stepped on the ground with mud. He looked up at the sky, his cheekbones protruding high. The autumn sun shone on the brass buttons of a man's coat, and he couldn't help touching the buttons.

"He is celebrating the party's own medal ..."

"Good things? It has become an indispensable part of my life. There are painful or happy moments, and I can't live without him.

Although he seldom talks, he doesn't stop me from saying everything I think. This is different from grandpa, who always said:

"Shut up, it's endless!"

Grandma c has become preoccupied now, rarely listens to others and only asks others questions.

Only "good things" often listen attentively to me and say with a smile:

"This is wrong, you made it up ..."

His comments in a few words are always just right.

I sometimes deliberately make up a set of irrelevant things, as if what he said was true, but I gave them a few words and he saw through it:

"Oh, nonsense again ..."

"How do you know?"

"I can see that ..."

Grandma often takes me to Xiannawen to fetch water. Once, we saw five or six ordinary citizens beating a countryman.

They pushed the country people to the ground and beat them desperately.

Grandma threw away the bucket, strode towards them and shouted to me at the same time:

"Get out of the way!"

But I didn't know what happened, so I ran after it, picked up the stone and threw it at ordinary citizens.

Grandma waved her pole fearlessly, and someone came again, and the ordinary citizens ran away.

That countryman was beaten black and blue by those people. He pressed his bleeding finger on his torn nostril and coughed.

Grandma is covered in blood. She is shaking.

When I got home, I immediately told the "good thing". He just stood and looked at me sternly and suddenly said:

"Great, that's what we should do!"

I was deeply shocked by what I just saw, and I went on regardless of his reaction.

But he hugged me and walked around the room excitedly:

"Good, good, you have made a comprehensive statement. Great! "

I'm a little wronged.

But I immediately understood that I was repeating myself!

"Oh, you can't always repeat! This is not the best memory material! "

Just like a sentence that pops up suddenly, it often reminds me of my life.

I told him my old friend Criou Nico, a big-headed boy and a good soldier. I can't beat him, and no one can beat him.

"Good things" heard and said:

"This is a small matter. They are all stupid strength. The real kung fu lies in the speed of action, understand? "

From then on, I paid more attention to the word "good thing".

"It's hard to catch everything!"

I don't understand it at all, but I will always remember the mystery.

Family members don't like "good things" more and more. Even cats don't crawl on their knees, others crawl on their knees.

I slapped the cat for this, and I almost cried to make it not afraid of "good things".

"Maybe it's my sour taste. It doesn't like it! "

Grandpa knew I often went to "good things" and gave me a good beating.

I didn't tell it to a "good thing", but I just said what others thought of him:

"Grandma said you were doing crooked ways! Grandpa also said that you are the enemy of God. "

He smiled faintly:

I knew it!'

"Really?"

"Yes ..."

He was finally driven away.

One day, I ran to him early in the morning and saw him singing Rose of Salon with a box in his hand.

"I have to go ..."

"Why?"

He looked at me:

"You don't know? This house will be vacated for your mother to live in ... "

"Who said that?"

"Your grandfather."

"He's talking nonsense!"

"Good things" pulled me to sit down and whispered:

"Don't be angry! I thought you knew and kept it from me. I was wrong about you ... "

I feel very disappointed.

"Do you remember that I didn't ask you to come here?"

I nodded.

"Are you angry with me?"

I nodded again.

"I know that if we become friends, your family will scold you!

"Do you understand why I am telling you this?" "

Of course. "

"Oh, great, it should be like this ..."

I feel bad in my heart

"Why don't they like you?"

"I am an outsider ..."

I don't know what to say. I just grabbed his sleeve.

"Don't be angry or cry ..."

He was almost whispering. But his own tears rolled down.

Sit in silence for a long time.

In the evening, he left.

When I walked out of the door, I saw him get on the cart, and the vibrating wheels staggered on the muddy road.

Hardly had he left when grandma began to clean the house. I walked back and forth in the house, deliberately disturbing her.

"Go away!"

"Why did you drive him away?"

"That's not what you asked!"

"You are all assholes!"

"Are you crazy?"

She waved a mop to scare me.

"I didn't say you! Everyone is an asshole except you! "

At dinner, grandpa said:

"Thank goodness, can't see him! This guy is blocking my heart! "

I broke my spoon violently and got another beating.

★ Thoughts on reading childhood

Everyone has a childhood, and everyone's childhood is different, but are we all as poor as Gorky's childhood? No, we didn't. We are the only child in our family and the apple of our parents' eye. Gorky's childhood is not as happy as ours, nor is his family as happy as ours.

Gorky has no father since he was 7 years old, and lives with his mother and elderly grandmother. Other children have new clothes, but he doesn't. He only has a few patched clothes and a schoolbag. However, instead of blaming his mother, he studied harder and prepared to pay tribute to his hard-working mother.

Childhood this book records some stories of Gorky's childhood, which is a little bitter and a little human: I really admire Gorky's success in such a difficult environment.

Gorky liked mathematics very much when he was young. In a math class, the teacher gave the class a question. The title is: "1+2+3+4+...+ 100 =? "This embarrassed many students, who were all in a hurry. Only Gorky worked it out, which is equal to 5050. From then on, the teacher will not look down on them because their family is poor, but think that he is very talented in mathematics.

We should learn from Gorky, and Confucius said it well: "Meet Si Qi."

★ Thoughts on reading childhood

I recently read Gorky's Childhood, which vividly depicts the tragic childhood of the protagonist Aletha. Alisha's parents died, and his grandfather was very grumpy. Only his grandmother loves him. Grandfather doesn't like him very much, and his two uncles hate him even more. He survived in such a bad environment. In fact, Aletha's prototype is Gorky himself, and Gorky used Aletha to describe his childhood. This made me deeply realize the ugly face of people at that time. Gorky's childhood is so miserable compared with ours now!

How happy we are, spoiled by our parents. Sitting in a spacious and bright classroom every day, listening to the teacher; There are big fish and meat waiting for you to taste when you go home; I will give you what you want; If someone bullies you, adults will not hesitate to give that person a hard lesson. What about Gorky's era? Gorky rarely has a quiet day, and almost every day someone hurts him, insults him and bullies him. I don't understand either. Why do those people do such a thing that harms others and does not benefit themselves? Are these meaningless things worth doing?

Therefore, we should cherish today's happy life. We should grasp the tail of childhood, study hard, and never know when we will be blessed. Such an excellent learning environment and such a wonderful childhood life, if we don't study hard, we will be too sorry for our parents.

Now, seeing that childhood is about to leave, we are greeted by energetic teenagers. Let's cherish the last moment of childhood. Careless, childhood will leave us, seize the last time of childhood, and leave our best impression on childhood!

My first friendship with countless outstanding people in the motherland ended like this.