黑头是被夜猫子的叫声惊醒的。他揉了揉眼睛,拧开手电筒,看了眼箱子上的闹钟,急忙从炕上爬起来,紧了紧裤带,抓起早已装好锹镐的麻袋便出了屋子,直奔村外的那片墓地而去。那片墓地已经存在了上百年,大片高大挺拔的松柏终年蓊郁,遮蔽着树下大大小小的坟丘。朦胧的月光下,黑头沿着一条小路,很快便接近了墓地。他停住脚,扫视了四周几眼,刚要迈步,旁边的高粱地里突然传来一阵女人的笑声。黑头只觉得头皮发麻,身子发紧,双腿一软,便瘫倒在地上,心“咚咚” Blackheads were awakened by the cry of a night owl. He rubbed his eyes, unscrewed the flashlight, glanced at the alarm clock on the box, hurriedly climbed up from the kang, tightened the belt, grabbed the sack that had been installed with the spade pickaxe out of the house, went straight to the outside of the village The piece of cemetery away. That piece of cemetery has existed for hundreds of years, large tall pine and cypress all year round, covered with large and small tree mounds. Under the hazy moonlight, blackheads followed a path and soon approached the cemetery. He stopped his feet, glanced around a few weeks, just to move, next to a burst of sorrow in a woman came a laughter. Blackhead only felt scalp tingling, body tight, his legs a soft, they collapsed on the ground, heart “pound ”