He knew very well that he was "grasping at straws," but this realization still made him so overjoyed that he devoured three large bowls of food!
Not until his stomach could hold no more did he joyfully pull out his purse and call out loudly, "Shopkeeper, the bill!"
The owner, who both managed the shop and served as the waiter, had been eyeing him for a while, fearful that he might dash after eating. Seeing that he actually took out his purse, the owner approached with a smile plastered on his face and said in a thick Linjiang accent, "You must have just arrived in Linjiang today, right?"
Yang Ge paused, then after a moment returned to his senses and fumbled with his tongue before replying, "No… no… no, I haven’t been home in a very, very long time, and I can’t even speak my hometown dialect anymore."
After a good while of scrambling, he finally managed to speak with a Linjiang accent.
"No wonder."
The shopkeeper’s smile grew even warmer as he chatted idly while settling the bill, "It’s good to be back in your hometown, isn’t it?"
Yang Ge smiled as he looked towards the unfamiliar street scene outside the stall and replied softly, "Yes, it’s good to be back in the hometown!"
After paying, he wandered aimlessly around the ancient town for a long time, gradually recognizing some familiar gates, and the strange ancient city before him finally began to overlap with the old streets of the ancient town he had walked countless times with his first girlfriend during his youth...
In the afternoon, he found a secluded spot and soared into the sky, heading towards his hometown.
Even though seas might dry and rocks may crumble, and much had changed, he still found the direction effortlessly...
Indeed, how could anyone not recognize the way back home?
Once out of the city, he began to recognize more and more familiar sights.
Those rivers...
He had been dragged through each one by his fishing buddy.
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Those mountains...
He had gazed at their gentle forms countless times through the car window.
The journey became closer and closer.
After passing a small hillock, two mountain ranges separated by a shallow gully appeared before Yang Ge.
He landed in the valley and gazed along the gully at the two mountain ranges that had appeared countless times in his dreams, his vision gradually blurring.
These mountain ranges...
The left one with its somewhat steep slopes was where he and the village kids had herded cattle and sheep during his childhood, the mountain was covered with their family’s footprints.
Back then, he envied his friends who herded cattle, as they only needed to lead the cattle up the slopes, then they could toss aside the ropes and peacefully play in the small gully below, catching crabs, because the cattle would not wander off; once full, they’d find a spot to lie down and chew the cud.
His family, however, had goats, and quite a few of them at that. Goats are picky eaters; you couldn’t tie them up because then they wouldn’t eat enough to grow fat, but if you didn’t tie them, as soon as they reached the slopes, they’d scatter all over, and he would have to chase after those wretched goats everywhere. Back then, he was still very young, not yet as strong as those big goats; he didn’t even remember how many times he had fallen on those slopes.
Latter, the slopes were returned to forest, and pine trees were planted all over. They couldn’t herd cattle or goats anymore, and in a few years, it became so overgrown that it was impassable.
Years later, every time they drove past here on their way home, his parents would point to that forest and ask him if he remembered the days when they herded goats, joking that the pine trees had grown so tall, yet he hadn’t married yet...
The right slope, which was more gentle, had become a road.
When he was a child, there had been no road here, just a narrow goat track. Back then, the hillside was covered with hemp; in the spring, it was bearable because the hemp was still short. When the wind blew, the silvery undersides of the leaves would flip into view, resembling waves.
In the summer, however, it became unbearable. The hemp would grow taller than a person. To traverse the goat path, one had to push through the hemp, and worse, various bugs would inhabit the hemp, and as you walked through, a bug might just land on your face... Back then, what he disliked the most was harvesting the hemp. His parents would pick the hemp in the field, and he would follow behind with a sickle cutting the stalks into bundle after bundle, hot, sweaty, and itchy.
Latter, a road was built there, making the journey home much easier. Their family got a motorcycle, and once, his grandfather led him to the market, letting him watch his grandfather march smartly.
Years later, the price of hemp collapsed, and no one grew hemp there anymore. You didn’t have to pass through hemp when you drove by, but by then his grandparents were no longer around, and he only returned for the Tomb Sweeping Festival and New Year’s to tend the graves.
If you followed this slope all the way down, you’d arrive home...
Yang Ge stared steadily at the two mountain ranges. Through the blurred vision before him, he saw again that dark and nimble kid racing after the goats around the hills, and he saw that lean old man leading his grandson, chest thrust out, walking with a military step.
"Erwai, the goat’s run off again!"
"Don’t fuss, watch how grandpa marches!"
After a long while, he slowly bowed his head and stiffly entered the narrow path on the right slope, his heart beginning to beat uncontrollably.
Midway up, a child, bare-bottomed, rode atop a water buffalo, laughing merrily as he surged up from the path below the slope, a wet pair of pants hanging from a branch over his shoulder.
The tall water buffalo with its tail raised high was followed by a child in ragged patched shorts, pulling on the buffalo’s tail with one hand and a stubborn goat with the other, making his way up the slope with their help.