Wild Fire Bids Farewell To Summer Chapter 12
by1 before summer solstice
Wei Zhiheng pedaled his bicycle uphill.The grinding feeling of the rotating steel needle in the waist.The wound after the bone marrow puncture was on the posterior superior spine of the left hip. When I woke up in the morning, the blood was soaked through two layers of school uniform pants. It was dark brown and hardened.With each pedaling revolution, the chain clicked and the vibration was transmitted to the pelvis through the sit bones.
He arched his back and pressed his forehead against the crossbar of the handlebars.The back of his shirt was soaked and stuck to his shoulder blades.Sweat dripped from his chin, hit the pavement, and evaporated with a hiss, leaving white salt stains behind.
Daqiao Road in the new district of the county is under construction.On the right side of the sidewalk is a blue iron fence, and the welding gun bursts out arc light intermittently.Wei Zhiheng blinked.The welding light left a black spot in the center of the field of vision, beating with the pulse.He shifted gears, the transmission rubbed dryly, the chain jumped, tripped, and idled for a full circle before engaging.The purpura on the inner thigh rubs against the seam of my trousers. There are two pieces, the size of a coin, with a purple-black center and red edges.Stinging pain spreads up the thigh.
Limestone mountains are exposed at the end of the road.There is no vegetation, and the gray-white rock formations are cut vertically.The Huang family villa is built against the mountain, with white exterior walls and floor-to-ceiling windows.Wei Zhiheng squeezed the brakes, causing the rubber brake pads to rub against the wheel hub and scream.When the bicycle stopped, he put his left leg on the ground and straddled the crossbar with his right leg. He paused for three seconds, waiting for the tremor in his waist to subside.
The iron gate is ajar.He pushed away and Hinge groaned.There is no greening in the courtyard, and the exposed limestone floor was cut into irregular blocks by a cutting machine.He pushed the cart in, the tires crunching over the gravel and the stones rolling and rattling.A piece was crushed into a crack, and gray-white powder poured out from the crack.
Lock the car.The cool metal of the U-shaped lock creates a temperature difference with the heat of the frame. The lock tongue is inserted and clicks.He bent over, and the wound in his waist produced traction pain as his position changed.The eyes become dark, the field of vision is narrowed, and a black ring-shaped shadow appears around it.He held onto the wall. The limestone wall tiles were rough, white frost rubbed on his fingertips, and the powder was embedded in the gaps between his fingernails, making them dry.
He looked at his fingers.White powder is embedded in the lines.He shook his hand and the powder flew away.
The doorbell is broken.Wei Zhiheng knocked on the door with the second knuckle of his knuckles, and the sound echoed in the villa.He smelled the dust after the stone was cut, and the metal was fishy and sweet, sinking to the ground.
Huang Jinye opened the door.Black sports vest with white powder on the shoulder straps.The angle grinder is held in the right hand, the machine is connected to the power cord, and the plug rubs against the door frame.His face was covered with gray-white dust, and there were only two traces of sweat around his eyes.
“Third floor.” The voice was hoarse.He turned around, the hems of his sports shorts were frayed, exposing white fibers, and his bare feet stepped on marble waste, with gray stone powder embedded between his toes.
Wei Zhiheng followed up.At the entrance, the soles of canvas shoes made a slight sticky sound when they came into contact with the marble floor.The floor is paved with irregular marble fragments, with a white base, gray veins and sharp edges.Stone powder accumulated in the gaps between the fragments, making a rustling sound when stepped on.
The stairs are wooden and the treads are worn.Wei Zhiheng held on to the iron pipe handrail. The green paint peeled off to expose the silvery white metal, and a cool feeling penetrated his palms.Going up to the third floor, the space is open, with a sloping ceiling, and floor-to-ceiling windows facing the stone mountain. Light pours in, forming a huge rectangular light spot on the ground.The echo became louder, and the footsteps reflected multiple times and hit the wall.
The studio is empty.A long table with piles of stone samples, white, gray and pink.The angle grinder is placed on the corner of the table with the power cord hanging down.Huang Jinye walked towards the window and bent down to adjust the grinding wheel of the angle grinder.The grinding wheel is silver, ten centimeters in diameter, with worn edges.
A low-pitched whistle came from the highway shuttle outside the window.The decoration electric drill screams at high frequency.These sounds are overlaid by the sound of the angle grinder starting up.
Huang Jinye pressed the switch.
The angle grinder roars.high frequency.The sound of metal tearing.The sound waves bounce around the studio and hit the eardrums, causing stinging pain.Wei Zhiheng’s eardrum was sunken inward.The pain is transmitted along the ossicles to the cranial cavity, forming a pulse-like swelling pain in the temples, counterpointing with the dull pain in the waist.
Huang Jinye pressed the angle grinder against the marble.The grinding wheel screams as it comes into contact with the stone.Sparks burst out, orange-red, radiating, arcing, then extinguished, leaving behind a burnt smell.The stone powder is flying, white and subtle, rotating in the light.
Wei Zhiheng inhaled.The particles irritate the nasal mucosa, the sneeze is suppressed into a muffled sound, and the airflow is squeezed out from the glottis, making a hissing sound.The dust settles on the tongue and feels rough and astringent.He blinked, dust falling on his eyelashes, blurring his vision.He raised his hand to brush it, and the movement pulled at his waist, causing severe pain, and the steel needle stirred in the bone seams.
Huang Jinye’s face was covered in dust.White powder falls on the forehead, bridge of nose, and cheeks, and mixes with sweat to form gray-white mud.His eyes were half closed, white particles accumulated on his eyelashes, and he made a small rubbing sound when he blinked.The grinding wheel continues to cut and the noise continues.
Wei Zhiheng walked towards the long table.The canvas shoes stepped on the marble scraps, and the edges of the fragments pinched the soles.He unzipped his backpack, the zipper squeaking.He took out the earplugs, which were yellow, made of sponge, and had fine holes on the surface.
He walked towards Huang Jinye.The pace is slow, knees weak, finding balance on the marble waste with each step.The noise resonated in my chest, and my ribs vibrated with the sound waves.He stretched out his hand and hovered his right hand next to Huang Jinye’s right ear, stopping five centimeters away from the skin.
The fingers were hovering, the joints were stiff, and the fingernails were glowing lavender.Angle grinder noise creates air tremors in your fingertips.
Wei Zhiheng looked at Huang Jinye’s face.Covered in white dust.skin.lesions.He blinked.
He touches.When the finger touches the auricle, the cartilage is elastic and warm.He inserted the earplug into the ear canal, and the sponge compressed and expanded, filling the depression in the auricle.
The noise suddenly subsided and sank underwater.The high-pitched scream turned into a distant hum.
Huang Jinye stopped.The angle grinder wheel idles on the stone surface, whines as it slows down, then stops.Silence suddenly fell, compressing the eardrums, causing negative pressure and pain.Huang Jinye turned his head and looked at Wei Zhiheng. His eyes were scattered, focusing on the wall behind Wei Zhiheng, and then focused on Wei Zhiheng’s collar.
There was blood on Wei Zhiheng’s collar.Dark brown, knotted on the collar of a white shirt.
Dust suspends, rotates, and sinks in the air.Wei Zhiheng took out a tissue from his trouser pocket, which was individually packaged. It was made of plastic and had jagged edges that were easy to tear.He pinched the package between his thumb and forefinger and tore it open, making a crisp tearing sound from the plastic.He took out tissues.The paper towel has a rough, fibrous texture.
He reached out and touched Huang Jinye’s face with his fingers through the tissue.Start at your forehead and wipe downward.The paper towel rubs against the skin, making a rustling sound, and the dust is wiped away, revealing the bronze skin.Wipe to the bridge of the nose, the tissue becomes wet, sweat penetrates, the fibers swell and become soft.Wipe it to the cheek, the dust accumulates thickly, and an off-white coating forms on the surface of the tissue.
Use the tissue between your fingertips to feel the temperature of your skin, the contours of your cheekbones, and the tingling sensation of your stubble.Wei Zhiheng’s fingertips trembled and his muscle control failed.
Huang Jinye stood.His breathing was heavy, with the breath of stone powder, spraying on Wei Zhiheng’s wrist, hot and dry.His eyes were half closed, and the dust on his eyelashes was swept away by Wei Zhiheng’s sleeves.He holds the angle grinder in his right hand, the weight of the machine tightening his arm muscles, making his biceps bulge and his veins bulge.
After Wei Zhiheng finished wiping, he crumpled the paper towel into a ball and held it in his hand.Paper towels absorb sweat and stone dust and become heavy and sticky.He took a step back, his steps slipping on the marble waste, making a slight friction sound when his knees bent, and the fluid in the bone cavity moved, making a muffled sound.
Huang Jinye stretched out his hand, grabbed his right wrist with his left hand, and pulled him to stand still.Touching the palms, Huang Jinye’s palms were rough and calloused, with stone powder embedded in the palm lines; Wei Zhiheng’s wrists were cold, the skin was thin, and the purple blood vessels were bulging.
“Sit.” Huang Jinye released his hand and pointed to the bamboo chair by the window.
Wei Zhiheng walked over.The seat surface of the bamboo chair is worn, the bamboo strips are loose, and it groans slightly when it bears weight.He sat down with his waist pressed against the hard backrest, his waist swelling and shrinking.He spread his right hand, and the tissue left white indentations on his palm. Stone powder was embedded in the palm prints, overlapping with the bruises left by cycling.
His left hand reached into the side pocket of the canvas bag and touched a hard object.Limestone specimen, ivory white with gray chert bands, flat base.The one in Chapter 1, the source of the scar from the tiger’s mouth.He tightened his grip, and the edge cut into the pads of his fingers, stinging.Blood beads seeped out from the fingertips and mixed with the stone powder to form red-gray mud.He held the stone in his palm as a counterweight.
Huang Jinye put down the angle grinder and placed it on the long table. The metal came into contact with the stone, making a dull impact sound.He walked towards the corner bucket, which was made of aluminum and had oxidation marks and gray-white spots on its surface.He bent down, held water, and splashed his face.The water flow hits the skin, and the dust is washed away, forming a gray-white stream, dripping down the chin, hitting the marble waste, and being absorbed, leaving dark dots.
He straightened up and shook his head, water droplets splashed and landed on Wei Zhiheng’s canvas shoes.He walked to the long table and picked up a freshly cut marble fragment from the ground. It was white, with gray veins, sharp edges, and still warm.He handed it to Wei Zhiheng.
Wei Zhiheng took it and touched the cut surface with his fingertips, feeling cold to the touch.He tightened his grip, and the edge cut into his palm, stinging.Blood beads seeped out from the palm and mixed with the stone powder to form red-gray mud.He put the fragments into the side pocket of his canvas bag, placing them with the limestone specimens.The two stones collided and made a crisp sound.
The afternoon light outside the window began to slant.The sound of the shuttle bus braking could be heard from the distant highway, and the rubber tires screeched against the road.
Huang Jinye pulled out another larger marble scrap from under the table, gray with white stripes.He bent down, picked up the angle grinder again, plugged it in, and adjusted the angle of the grinding wheel.He pressed the switch, and the machine roared again, but this time he turned his back to Wei Zhiheng, faced the stone mountain, and continued cutting.
Wei Zhiheng sat on the bamboo chair and looked at Huang Jinye’s back.The muscles contracted in the vibration, and the stone powder flew up again, forming a beam in the sunset.He looked down at the side pocket of the canvas bag. Two stones were there, heavy and sharp.
Huang Jinye cut for twenty minutes.The noise continues.scream.non-stop.Then he stopped, unplugged the power cord, and set the angle grinder on the ground.He bent down, picked up the stone powder on the ground with his thumb and forefinger, rubbed it, and the powder leaked from his fingers.He walked to the window, turned his back to Wei Zhiheng, and looked at the rocky mountains outside the window.
Wei Zhiheng stood up.Knee scraping.Severe pain in the waist, unable to straighten the waist.He arched his back and lifted the canvas bag, the belt buckle making a thumping sound against his hip bones.He walked toward the stairs, walking slowly, balancing each step on the scraps of marble.
Huang Jinye did not look back.He stood by the window with his right hand raised. There was a fresh scratch at the tiger’s mouth, which was left by the rebound of the grinding wheel when cutting. Blood beads seeped out, flowed along the palm lines to his wrist, and dripped on the window sill, forming red dots.
Wei Zhiheng walked down the stairs, his canvas shoes making a rustling sound as he stepped on the marble fragments in the entrance hall.He pushed open the iron door and squinted in the harsh afternoon light.He locked the bike, unlocked it, and pushed the bike out. The chain made a dry friction sound.
As he pedaled up the road and downhill, the chain got stuck, click, click.The wound in the waist produced a rhythmic dull pain along with the vibration.The two stones in the side pocket of the canvas bag hit the picture clip, making a crisp sound, like a clock moving, like a heartbeat.
Huang Jinye stood in front of the third-floor window, watching Wei Zhiheng ride away, his back becoming smaller, lighter and disappearing against the background of the limestone mountains.He looked down at the blood on the window sill. It had dried and its color had changed from bright red to dark brown.He touched it with his index finger, rough, hard, stone.