C84 External Program Ape and Osmanthus Monster 1

(i)

My name is Ma Shangqian, I am a fresh graduate majoring in computer design. I am an intern in a company. I am a programmer. I develop games for the company. However, due to the lack of inspiration and creativity, every time he handed in the game design was beaten back. The boss had said that as a graduate of a famous university, he had no ability at all.

Anyone who said that would be depressed. For the next few days, I was in a very low mood. Suddenly, my mother called and told me to go back and help deal with the abandoned ancestral house in the ancient village deep in the mountains. I found a good excuse to take a leave of absence from this gloomy business, and so I agreed, rolling back and forth to the ancestral house where I had no memory of it.

The ancestral house was hidden in an ancient village in the forest deep in the mountains. Actually, it was not like an old forest, but the trees were a little dense. Ordinary travelers would not be able to find this village without the help of the locals. But because of this, even though the village has a long history and has yet to be excavated by the tourism company, it still remains quiet.

"Hello, grandma wants to know how to get to the ancestral home of the Zhao Family?" Although he was holding the phone and it had a map to navigate, the forest was too dense, blocking the GPS signal. Just when they arrived at the foot of the mountain, the signal was already very weak. So I decided to ask the old man who still lived here.

The old granny raised her head and narrowed her eyes at me. She pointed shakily towards the depths of the forest. Her mouth that had all her teeth broken opened and closed as she slowly said, "... Here … Right on... "There …"

I nodded my head to express my thanks. On the way, I stuffed a piece of grandpa Mao's paper into my wrinkled hands as I said, "Grandmother, take this small amount of money to buy some food."

After saying that, I bid farewell to the old granny and headed towards the depths of the forest. Along the way, a series of dilapidated brick houses stood on both sides of the bamboo forest, separated from each other by a winding but also bumpy, muddy path. After walking only a short distance, I found the ancestral house that was very similar to what my mother had described. My mother said that there had been a laurel tree in front of the ancestral house for a long time, and no one knew when it was planted. It was the only one in the village.

I pushed open a large, rotten wooden door and entered the interior of the ancestral house. The ancestral house was also made of green tile, and the walls were made of a mixture of crushed stone and yellow mud. Although it had already been renovated once in the 1980s, after his father's family moved to a high-rise in the city, the ancestral home was abandoned. It had been so many years since his grandfather and grandmother had passed away, but now his father remembered that there was an abandoned ancestral house in his hometown that needed to be taken care of.

I came here with a suitcase. Because the location of the ancestral home was too far away from the county, it took them a day to travel from the county to the ancient village. Fortunately, they had spent the night there tidying up and cleaning up. He was already an adult and wouldn't be afraid to live in an ancient village just because it was too shabby. After all, in this ancient village, there were a few elderly people. A few middle-aged people would come back to rest after they finished farming, so there was no need to be afraid.

So I set out to get the light in one of the rooms in the ancestral house, and the room where there was not much moss and weeds, and to set up a hammock for outdoor survival — for the planks had been eaten away by termites.

(ii)

That night, I lay in my hammock, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. I always feel my body itch … There seemed to be bugs. However, turning over the bed was nothing. There was still some distance between the hammock and the floor, so it was impossible for the bed to climb up.

Of course, this was not one of the reasons. The main reason was because the nights in the forest were always colder than in the large cities. It was as if there was always wind blowing in from outside the broken window, and there was even a vague feeling of someone watching him.

"…" I thought it wouldn't be so strange, right?

Sometimes, the words of the tomb robber's notes were true — sometimes, the most terrifying thing was not the gods or ghosts, but the human heart. Humans can really be easily scared out of their wits by their own imaginations... But then he thought, materialists don't believe in ghosts and gods! With my faith in Marx's materialism, I took out my cell phone and turned on the Yin-yang master, a recent hot hand tour.

Because I'm a programmer, I still have the confidence to find some signals outside the forest... Of course they played for a while. They ran dungeons, did quests, and then drew their cards.

Just as I was about to draw the lottery, a voice echoed in my ears: "Who — is she?"

I also unexpectedly looked down at the cell phone in my hand, which is displaying the plans of the Cherry Blossom Demon — one of the traditional Japanese monsters.

Thus, he replied, "Cherry Blossom Demon."

There was a prototype for her — the cherry blossoms were beautiful when they fell, so there were many lovers gathered under the cherry trees every day. Gradually, the cherry blossoms became a symbol of love. Everyone wants love and happiness, and so does the flower demon on the cherry tree. A man from a foreign land was attracted by the beautiful cherry blossoms and stopped every day under the cherry trees to gaze up at them as they fell. He had come here from a distant country, because the ship had lost her way. The cherry blossom demon had fallen in love with him for a long time, and thus transformed into a young woman, inviting him to meet her under the cherry blossom tree every day. A short and beautiful time passed, and the man would eventually return to his homeland. However, the Cherry Blossom Demon knew that the two of them would not have any results, so he was unable to stay. A few years later, the man came back to tell her that he had fallen in love with her. When he arrived at the promised location, he couldn't find the person he loved. Some said that she had returned to the tree because she had waited too long, and had fallen into the ordinary cherry blossoms; others said that she had been lost too much, and had turned into petals that floated across the sea in the wind to find him.

Well, it's a sad story.

However, it was clear that I was the only one here. There was no sound at all, and it was clearly a female voice.

All of a sudden, my hair stood on end. Mom, don't scare me …

Although he was usually a calm programmer, programmers were still afraid of supernatural things …

After calming down a little, I slowly turned my head back — and saw a strand of black hair drifting past my eyes, and then the quiet voice that had just been there, echoing in my ear: "This woman is someone with a story."

I looked in the direction of the voice. It was indeed a woman!

She had soft black hair, a small bun at the back of her head, and a yellow hair hairpin. The clothes she wore were obviously not the clothes worn by modern people, but rather the white skirt worn by ancient women.

"You —" I was too frightened to speak. For one thing, it would have scared anyone to death if someone had suddenly appeared in this ancestral room, which had been deserted for a long time, in the middle of the night; and for another, a young woman of such a young age had appeared in such a remote and forlorn house, and no one knew what kind of creature she was.

The woman smiled mischievously and replied, "My name is Ya Le. I've lived here for a long time. The owner of the house had not returned for a long time. I was curious to see you come in this afternoon, so I came to see you. "

"Look at me …" My sister, if you want to see me, can you come back tomorrow morning? Brother, although I am a firm materialist atheist, I still believe that there are some weird things happening in this world.

This woman was actually sitting on the rope that hung over my hammock like the owner of this house. Her legs were swaying, and the hem of her dress was swaying slightly with the movement of her feet.

She said, "This demoness is someone I have never met. If it was anyone else, I'm afraid they wouldn't recognize me. "

"…" I looked at her, not knowing what to say. How I wish this were a dream. I don't want to have a relationship with a scholar who has a different mindset. It's too seductive! If I had known earlier, I wouldn't have agreed to let my mother come here to see how damaged the ancestral house was and to sell it at a low price for how much it would cost …

She leaned her head to my side, and I could smell the sweet scent of her — the scent of osmanthus. At this moment, the osmanthus tree outside the door was blooming with late osmanthus flowers. The fragrance of the late osmanthus flowers was usually very strong.

"I live next door to you. You and I are neighbors!" After the girl finished speaking, she let out a laughter that was like the tinkling of silver bells. She then continued to speak familiarly, "But I don't know when, but the gate of your house has been closed ever since … Many times, I climbed over the outer wall and then sat on the patio, looking at the sky... "I've been waiting and waiting, but there's still no one …"

As she spoke, she no longer let out that clear laughter. Instead, she spoke of her depression and desolation in an increasingly lonely tone.

There seemed to be a lot of things that had to be said. Because no one had spoken, they had been buried for thousands of years. Now that he had finally met someone, he wanted to use one night to dry all of it.

(iii)

At night, she talked to me a lot, starting with her memory. The spring wind was actually very cold, and the birds were chirping noisily. Even the bees and butterflies kept wanting to get her fruits of labour. At this point, she would pout and wave her fists indignantly, like a child. I was amused by her behavior.

She said she liked the people in the village best. Every time, a woman in my house would push open the door, walk under the osmanthus tree, and pluck the dew-stained osmanthus flowers from the tree and put them in the basket. After a short while, the cooking stove began to emit a sweet and fragrant scent of osmanthus flowers — the hostess of this house was very skillful, and she also made a osmanthus cake.

The woman brought out a bowl of sliced cinnamon cake and went to the other washimi in the village. She was going to distribute the cinnamon cake to the villagers. The villagers ate fresh cinnamon cake to admire the woman's craftsmanship, but also did not forget to praise the village only osmanthus beautiful and sweet.

At this point, she would always raise her chest, proudly glowering at him, proudly.

Hmm, looks like I really did run into a demon. Even though she chattered about her past and forgot to reveal her identity, I knew that she was actually the flower demon that had possessed the osmanthus tree outside the ancestral house.

As a materialist, he actually believed that he wasn't daydreaming, that he had really run into a monster … Because I pinched myself, it was painful — I let out an "Ah!" Sure enough, I'm not dreaming.

Then why am I not afraid of this demon? After all, this demon was a demon attached to the osmanthus tree. It should be a trash that only had five points of fighting strength. As a healer, it was also known as a wet nurse. Its attack power was not that strong. It will not threaten the safety of my personal property.

"Have you been lonely for a long time?" I asked.

She nodded with a wry smile.

"Although I haven't seen this banshee called Cherry Blossom Demon before, the man she loves will still remember her after so many years. He can still come back to see her, even if the outcome isn't perfect, but he's still very happy right?"

"They can't remember me …"

That's right, none of them remembered that there was an ancient village in the forest. There was a house in the ancient village with a osmanthus tree outside its door. It went from a morning osmanthus flower to a late osmanthus flower, until the arrival of winter.

A cock crowed in the village, and I saw a white light on the horizon, and the sky was turning white — it was already early in the morning.

I didn't sleep with her all night.

She raised her thin lips in a helpless smile and said softly, "You're leaving tomorrow morning, aren't you?"

Yes, according to the plan, the first day would be spent here temporarily, and the next day would be photographed. The ancestral house and the land next to it would also be photographed and given to the county's Bureau of Lands to estimate the price. The next day, a buyer would be found to sell the land.

If I don't go back, there won't be any good ideas. Who knows, maybe my boss will fire me …

I sighed. "Yes."

(iv)

The next day, with my mono, I fixed on the ruins of the ancestral house, the chickens and dogs of the village, the garden behind the ancestral house that was already overgrown with weeds, and, of course, the osmanthus tree in front of the door.

Aside from the recent weeks in the ancestral house, I also entered deeper into the forest to take pictures. She stayed with me all the way … Reminds me of a novel by Yu Dafu, "The Late Osmanthus Flower."

On the winding path, she kicked at the pebbles at my feet and asked me, "If you leave, will you come back?" Are you not coming back either? "

"Maybe."

Of course. Which young man with the ability would want to stay in a village that was almost isolated from the outside world and had no signal? After my father came home in the 1980s, he brought my mother and grandparents to live in a big city. Even my eldest uncle and uncles gradually gained economic power and left the ancestral home one after another. No one lived in the Ancestral House anymore. I've never been to this house before. My impression of the Ancestral House was only the whisper of my grandparents. However, because they were also getting older, they couldn't bear the toil of crossing mountains and rivers. Thus, the idea of going back to the ancestral home to pay respects to their ancestors was also delayed year after year.

Currently, there were only a few families in this village, and most likely, there weren't even five families. The people who lived here were all old people in their twilight years. Although there were one or two middle-aged men, they all left the county city during the day to work and move bricks. They would occasionally return to stay at night for a day or two. Perhaps in a few more years, when all the old people in the village had passed away one after another, this village would truly become a ruined village. No one would be able to find a trace of it, and only the cries of birds could be heard. No, I'm afraid not even the birds will come.

"If I had wings, I would try to escape. "This place is so lonely, really lonely …" She lowered her head and stood still.

Yes, even the demons felt lonely, not to mention the old people who lived here.

I still remember how brightly she smiled the first day I came to the village, when I looked like an old lady sitting on a stool outside in the sun, asking for directions, and stuffing money into her hand — perhaps it was a long time since I had seen any outsider come in.

On the morning of the third day, I packed my bags and set off for the county town to catch the only bus that would take me to the larger city, where I'd have to make a long journey to get back to the city.

Early in the morning, I hastily ate the biscuits with sufficient weight before carrying my luggage out the door.

I looked at the osmanthus tree, but she didn't show up. Yesterday she accompanied me all the way through the forest and didn't look for me again after dark.

You can't bear to part with it?

"Goodbye." I said something to the air. It was unknown who he was talking to. Perhaps he was talking to her, the cute little Flower Demon, or perhaps he was talking to this ancient village that was going to be buried in the smoke of history.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and adjusted my mood. When he opened his eyes again and prepared to leave, a gentle breeze blew. The air was filled with a serene fragrance, and the tiny petals of the osmanthus flower were blown away. One of them floated slowly into my palm.

I turned to look at the osmanthus tree outside the door and repeated, "Goodbye."