Looking for Zhou Tao's Prose

Zhou Tao

When the sunlight splashed down from the clear blue sky, it seemed to be filtered by a thorough, ethereal and noble container. It still looks so hot, so bright, as dazzling as the midday sun, but it is no longer burning and boring. It fell from the sky, shining, swimming and jumping, jumping from one flower to another, and suddenly swept from this meadow to that meadow. It is still pleasant and warm, but it has a fresh and lovely taste, like the water flowing between heaven and earth full of light.

The grass collapses or rises near some hills, and the lines are smoothly and naturally combined, just like the relationship between the bed and the pillow.

In the distant background, some vague and rough faces are carved on the bare white rock mountain wall, staring at the grassland strangely and motionless, with strange expressions.

Further afield, the steel-blue mountains are separated from the fertile green fields and combined into a series of hard and tall spire tents in Zita Law. It can always be seen at a glance, but people can't get close to them. These towering snow peaks and lush grasslands seem to be too close in summer, making these huge entities look very fake. The mountains are as blue as pure steel, towering into the clouds and inserted into the quiet and clean blue sky. Two kinds of blue, highly harmonious and completely different, you can't tell how the two kinds of blue are clearly distinguished in space.

Sunlight is pouring down from such a bright blue container and splashing on the grass wantonly, full and rich. It doesn't seem like a day can be exhausted, and there will be no light to shed.

These raindrops fall silently, silently and slowly, evenly and forcefully. As soon as they touch the ground, white rocks and colorful wild flowers will jump, bounce and splash around in the brilliance of petals. Light will jump in all directions like scattered water drops, draw beautiful arcs, intertwine and weave dazzling colorful rain on the quiet and uninhabited summer pasture. This extravagant and wasted sunshine pours aimlessly alone, only for the prosperity and growth of the boundless lush pasture.

The grass grows deep. The grass on the beach or hillside has not passed the ankle, and occasionally a small piece of land uncovered by grass plants appears in some places, which seems to be the randomness and omission of nature; The pasture on the top of the mountain is getting cold, and the grass grows deeper and deeper, which can't catch people's knees.

Grassland is a painter at this time, but only a painter, not a musician at the same time. When it paints on this big canvas, it is very willing to be quiet. In its chaotic space, any subtle sound can become the focus of attention. Light spots bounce and splash on flowers, but are absorbed and blended in the depths of grass color. When sunlight penetrates into the green, it is as easy as water drops penetrating into the thick soil.

Sometimes one or two yellow ducks suddenly fall from the sky, croaking loudly, and the flapping sound of wings reverberates and trembles in the hills of vilen, which is earth-shattering, making people wonder why such a small creature can make such a loud noise. Like a heavy, golden fool, the yellow duck accidentally stepped into the air from the clouds, fell in a radian, and went straight through the colorful rain intertwined with light. Its strange cry seems to be calling for help. As a result, as soon as it touched the ground, it staggered into the grass and disappeared, which was a false alarm.

Sometimes, three or five swans will land on the grass beach like a group of large passenger planes. They are no strangers, just flying smoothly, descending gradually, as if discussing with each other, and then descending lightly along an invisible slope, keeping the flight distance and landing; Like silver, they wrapped their beautiful bodies in green grass blankets.

However, all this did not attract the special attention of the grassland. It is still quiet, dazzling, or darkened by the movement of clouds.

The mountain hovers in the distance.

Several horses, like lost and homeless horses, waved their long tails leisurely-with thorns and straw stuck to them-to drive away mosquitoes and flies. They don't answer anyone and don't want to go too far alone. They just eat grass and occasionally raise their long manes and necks to look at the distance, like a group of homeless people who have some regrets but don't remember their home.

The mountain is still winding in the distance, motionless.

The vitality of the grass makes it hairy and muddy, like a snail lying there, motionless for a long time. The Gongnaisi River is very calm. With the ups and downs of the terrain, a section of water flashes occasionally, and the light is not dazzling. Its bend or width is covered with huge reeds, which cover it and make it look like a hidden calculating animal.

Not far from the river, on a slightly raised slope, a row of earthen houses are exposed.