As the bus pulled into the long tunnel

As the bus pulled into the long tunnel, the wet gloom surged over me. The carriage was scattered with dark people, the Windows were slightly open, and the wind whistled through a crack. There is always a bucket of sparkling water, clear or muddy, next to the steps at the back of the bus. The old man leaning on the back of the chair in front of him closed his eyes slightly. A few clusters of silver hair mixed with a little black ink, like the dark fungus on the ancient trees in the mountains. When the car shook, the fungus would spread out and float in the air. The turbulence did not disturb his dream, but disturbed the birds in my head.

I thought of Lao Lin.

I thought of his wrinkled, bark-like face that laughed even more. A grass green old hat wrinkled I don't know how many creases, a soldier coat to wear for many years, own washing cotton was pulled from the hole in a long, fine fine if a casual glance at him from top to bottom, you will feel in front of a booth on the surface of the table on the balcony of dried orange peel, wrinkled, thin dry. I went to see him this time. Imperceptible in my car Mercedes in the memory of the samsara, all the way to raise the long flag of pilgrimage. Lao Lin and I rarely met, but we always talked for a long time -- I actually listened to him talk about the years on his own.

He brought me a pony, filled my arms with fresh seasonal fruits, and sat on the green stone steps, carefully peeling edamame shells with his earthy thumb before the portrait of Lei Feng hanging on the old and worn walls of his shanty. He said he used to be a hunter, and when he was twenty-six or seven years old a mountain was his prey, but he never overkill, honest. When the mountain needed a ranger, he didn't think much about it and told the cadre he would do the job himself. I took a bite out of a juicy peach and peeked at the old shotgun in the corner, thick with ash. Driving to the depths, the darkness brings a fuzzy atmosphere, memories are always in such a bright and dark gray area hit, and then blocked your tears. The barriers that the tunnels pull up meander and meander, as if everything is a metaphor. I asked him every day but six yuan subsidy, the New Year also can't go home, value? Lao Lin stopped peeling beans, raised his head, a pair of old but clear eyes closely staring at me: "You see what questions you ask, if I like that money I do what is not good, I this for the country to do a contribution, guarding a piece of satisfaction."

He answered and acted exactly as he did. More than 20 years, at the foot of a morning dusk, liangbin climbed a year of four seasons white frost, turn around to go is the wind blowing black hair, look back again has snow full head. His wife and children could not understand that he lived alone in a hut at the foot of the mountain. I call him the Lei Feng of this era. He obstinately denies it, waving his hand, and looks up at the still shining, bright red portrait of Lei Feng on the wall. I have never seen such a vivid portrait of Lei Feng, like a red sun shining. The sky suddenly brightened, the carriage lit up a little bit against the tunnel, the trees on the suburban side of the road were shaken by the wind, and the shadow of the swaying trees was a lost poem. In the distance, I see mountains rhythmically rising and falling, green mountains swimming in the sun, and I'm about to see the old forest. Old Lin guarded the forest. County to give him honor, he did not accept, wrinkles together, revealing a simple and honest smile: "Keep the forest is not for this ah."

Before getting off the bus, I bent over the bucket of water beside the back door, a crooked reflection of me. So I think of the old old voice are weng in the cabin in the afternoon, think of the wall like Lei Feng, think of the cabin in front of the old Lin also have such a clear stream, I found THAT I can not go out, can not go out of the old Lin that piece of forest.

"Lao Lin, long time no see." I took a bowl of wine and placed it gently in front of a grave. It's his will. He's gonna be here for a long, long time. To see generations of rangers stepping into the same land he had touched so many times, touching so many times the tall woods.

With the same heart and emotion, the blood in their bones called lei Feng spirit forced them to stand firm as a fierce flame. Everything about Old Lin disappeared.