Peking Opera Cat: I Became A Zi's Brother

When Mo Yun stopped at the well, the legs of her trousers were already damp from the night dew.

The well rope was wrapped half a circle around the wooden windlass, and the end of the rope hung on the water, reflecting the moonlight like broken silver - he suddenly remembered a summer afternoon, Bai Tang was swaying on the edge of the well platform, holding a fishing rod in his hand, but the fishing line was entangled in the wooden teeth of the windlass.

"Brother Mo Yun, look at the silverfish I caught!"

The little fellow stood on tiptoe to pull the line, but ended up falling into his arms with the fishing line. What was entangled on the other end of the line was not a fish, but a sycamore leaf blown down by the wind. There was still some well water on the tip of the leaf, which hit the back of his hand with a cool feeling.

At that time, he had just struggled to wake up from the chaotic darkness. His head felt like it was stuffed with a ball of water-soaked cotton wool and he could not remember anything.

The owner's mother-in-law said that he was a cat of destiny. Tangyuan followed him around and called him "Brother Moyun". There was also Baitang, who was always noisy and dragged him to the river every day.

“Fishing requires waiting, just like waiting for grapes to ripen.”

Bai Tang squatted on the bluestone beach and pushed the pottery jar containing earthworms in front of him.

"Look at the water ripples, they're moving!"

Before he could finish his words, the fishing rod suddenly sank down. The little guy pulled it so hard that his face turned red. In the end, he caught a broken straw sandal with a dry lotus leaf stuck to the sole.

He should have laughed at that time, right?

Mo Yun reached out and stroked the rounded edges of the well platform, and his fingertips touched a shallow dent - that was the mark left by Bai Tang when he accidentally used his Yunli to cut while practicing Yunli.

At that time, he always felt that Bai Tang was too frizzy, so he held his wrist and corrected his posture again and again. The sunlight shone through the grape leaves and fell on the two cats' overlapping hands, warm like melted honey.

"Brother Mo Yun, look, I can make the water droplets dance!"

Bai Tang held up her hand that was stained with water droplets. The rhythm of her fingertips made the water droplets reflect colorful light in the sunlight, like a string of moving gems.

He remembered that he didn't say anything at that time, but just quietly tightened his hand around Bai Tang's wrist, fearing that the weak but fresh rhythmic energy would dissipate like morning dew.

When the sky turned pale, Mo Yun walked to the river.

The morning mist was like a thin veil covering the water, and a few clear bird calls came from the reeds.

He walked slowly along the mudflats, the pebbles under his feet numbing his soles, but they also made those vague memories clearer - once the two of them had a breath-holding competition here, and Bai Tang cheated when he lost and splashed water in his face;

Once they caught a small fish and Bai Tang insisted on keeping it in a ceramic jar. As a result, the next day the fish was gone. The little guy squatted under the grape trellis and cried for a long time. Later he found out that the fish was eaten by Tofu.

When the sun half showed its face, the golden light penetrated the morning mist and sprinkled on the water, shattering into a piece of jumping gold foil.

Mo Yun stood by the water, watching her own reflection overlap with the vague, past-less self in her memory.

At that time, he didn't have to think about any decisive battles or take any responsibilities. Every day when he woke up, he could hear the rustling sound of white sugar, smell the fragrance of the pumpkin cake made by the owner's grandmother, and the sweat during the rhythm training was sweet.

"Brother Mo Yun, do the clouds in the east look like them?"

"Brother Mo Yun, Tang Yuan said that grape seeds need to be buried deeper so they can germinate."

"Brother Mo Yun..."

Those sounds with the warmth of sunshine seemed to still be in his ears. Mo Yun reached out to touch the water, but the coolness at his fingertips brought him back to his senses.

In the ripples on the water, there was only his shadow, reflected alone in the morning light.

The reeds rustled in the wind, like someone sighing softly.

Mo Yun turned around and walked back, his steps heavier than when he came.

When passing by the grape trellis, he saw that the soil where the grape seeds were buried was slightly raised, as if something was trying to come out.

He suddenly remembered that before Bai Tang left, he stuffed the last grape seed into his hand:

"When I come back, we'll watch it sprout together."

The morning light climbed up the dead leaves of the grape vines, casting mottled shadows on the ground.

Mo Yun stood there, looking at the slightly raised piece of land, and the cold Yunli space in his chest seemed to suddenly feel a little warm.

Mo Yun walked out of the town in the morning light. Dew condensed into tiny beads on his trouser legs, stained with the green of grass leaves.

As he walked through the waist-high rice field, the morning beads on the rice ears fell down and felt cool on the back of his hand.

The wind blew across the rice paddies, stirring up golden-green ripples. It was as if it were a memory of a certain afternoon—the Xingluo Squad had just finished defeating a few monsters nearby, and Xiaoqing was standing on tiptoe to pluck grains from the top of the rice ears, saying she wanted to practice her precision in controlling the water.

Wu Song stood on the edge of the field carrying a long spear, humming a tuneless tune, but he would always suddenly swing a stick at Bai Tang when he was slacking off, scaring the little guy so much that he jumped three meters high.

He walked slowly along the ridge of the field, the mud under his feet still wet and soft from the night.

Walking to the old maple tree at the end of the field, there were still a few shallow marks on the bark. These were the height lines drawn by Wusong for competition. The crooked top one was obviously carved by Baitang on tiptoe, and it was half a finger higher than Wusong's line.

Mo Yun raised his hand and stroked the scratch. His fingertips touched the roughness of the bark. He suddenly remembered Bai Tang standing with his hands on his hips and shouting, "One day I will be better than all of you." The sunlight shone through the maple leaves onto his face, and even the hairs were clearly visible.

Around the rice fields is the small hill behind, and the moss on the stone steps is shiny from being trampled.

On the flat ground halfway up the mountain, several huge rocks that had been split in half still lay there, with a few clumps of wild chrysanthemums sprouting from the cracks. This was where they practiced their rhyme skills. Xiaoqing had practiced her water sleeves on the rocks, and the water she swung out could condense into swords in mid-air.

The fire judge of Wusong struck the stone, and the sparks flew up and ignited the dry grass on the hillside.

Bai Tang always likes to hold a stone to practice strength. When he is tired, he collapses on the ground with a piece of dogtail grass in his mouth and says vaguely,

"When I have practiced well, I will knock Fei An out with one punch."

Mo Yun sat on the largest rock, and the morning breeze made the pine needles rustle.

He looked at the town below the mountain, where smoke was rising from the rooftops, just like the countless ordinary mornings in his memory.

At that time, after they finished practicing, they would run back to the town noisily. Baitang would always rush to buy fish balls, Wusong would want to drink the strongest tea, Xiaoqing would stand in front of the cloth shop to look at the newly arrived silks, and he would follow behind, carrying everyone's scattered things in his hands, listening to the noise in the street, and his heart felt at ease as if he had a piece of warm jade in his arms.

As we walked towards town, the sun was already high in the sky. As soon as we reached the street corner, we heard the hawker's call from the Wangji Fish Ball Stall:

"Fresh fish balls from the pan! Sprinkled with perilla seeds, the Xingluo class loves them!"

The stall owner was deftly scooping up the round fish balls with a bamboo spoon. White mist rose up, wrapped in a fresh and fragrant aroma, and filled Mo Yun's face.

He stood in front of the stall and watched for a while, then remembered that Bai Tang always liked to stuff fish balls into his bowl, and said

"Brother Mo Yun, you should eat more so that you can have more strength to practice your rhyme power."

As a result, I ate the fastest and there was soup at the corners of my mouth.

A few steps ahead is Aunt Li's cat litter shop. A bamboo basket filled with dried reed fluff has a wooden sign stuck on it:

"It's so soft, even Lord White Sugar's tofu loves to sleep!"

Mo Yun couldn't help but curl the corners of her mouth. Tofu was really picky. When Aunt Li gave it a bag of new sand, it rolled three times in the basket and got all over itself with reed fluff.

There were quite a few people gathered in front of the theater. The play "The Story of Loyalty and Bravery" was being performed on the stage, and the martial artist with a painted face sang with clear and melodious voice.

Mo Yun stood behind the crowd, looking at the fluttering red robe, and suddenly remembered how Wu Song looked when he put on the costume for the first time. He pulled at his sleeves awkwardly, but when Bai Tang laughed at him for looking like a little wife, his face turned red and he wanted to beat him up.

Xiaoqing always says that the heroes in operas are too stupid, but her eyes will secretly turn red when the loyal souls return home.

At the sugar painting stall at the end of the street, a master craftsman was scooping sugar juice to draw a dragon, and golden sugar threads were winding on the bluestone slabs.

Mo Yun stopped and watched the dragon's body gradually take shape. He suddenly remembered that Bai Tang once pestered the master to draw a strange-looking cat, saying that he wanted to give it to everyone as a talisman. As a result, Wu Song laughed at him for three days, but he still kept it in his arms like a treasure.

The sunlight shines through the wind chimes on the eaves, making people dizzy.

Mo Yun walked slowly, listening to the hawking sounds, opera performances, and children playing in the streets, as if she was immersed in warm water.

The overlapping of these lively scenes with the scenes in his memory made him suddenly feel that those who had left seemed to have never gone far. They were hiding in the aroma of fish balls, hiding in the singing of operas, and falling in the sweetness of sugar paintings, accompanying this town, waiting for a reunion in the morning.

He walked to the old locust tree at the entrance of the town. There were a few old men sitting in the shade of the tree, enjoying the cool air, chatting and laughing about the story of the Xingluo Band.

Mo Yun leaned against the tree trunk, listening to the adventures being talked about over and over again, and suddenly felt that the space of rhyme power in his chest seemed to be warmer.

The wind blows through the gaps between the leaves, carrying the fragrance of rice ears. The rice fields in the distance are rolling, as if saying: Wait, you will get your chance eventually.

……

……

……

(I haven't figured out how to revive Baitang yet, so I'll just keep doing it for the next few days.)