Who is the author of the prose Spring Grass Under the Big Tree?

Author A Bing

This big tree is too old, and the ruthless wind, frost, rain and snow have already made its body desolate.

This big tree is so persistent. No matter how long the severe winter is, as long as the spring breeze calls gently,

it will not hesitate to release the energy of life on the new branches. information.

The spring grass stood silently under the big tree, with eyes like a bird that does not know how tired it is, hoping and waiting.

Following the winding and rugged road leading to the bottom of the mountain The small road flies far, far away.

In the spring of that year, Chuncao reluctantly bid farewell to her newlywed husband under the big tree. At that time, the festive red candles of the young couple had just been lit, and the flowers of happiness had just exuded their intoxicating fragrance. However, the newlywed husband resolutely walked out of the bridal chamber, preparing to rush to defend his family and country. Korean battlefield.

Chuncao just silently sent her beloved husband to the big tree at the intersection. It’s time to break up,

Chuntao said softly: I want to miss you every day, just under the big tree. You walked along this mountain road, and I want to look at this path at the bottom of the mountain every day,

Wait until you come back...

There are many people lined up in spring, summer, autumn and winter. walked over. Under the big tree, Chun Cao is no longer waiting alone.

She carries on her back the son who has not yet seen his father. The son who has just learned to speak likes to blink his novel little eyes and ask questions on his mother's back:

Mom, who are we waiting for under the big tree?

It’s raining, and the crystal raindrops are rolling down on Chuncao’s haggard face. It’s hard to tell whether they are raindrops or teardrops.

A new grave has been built next to the big tree, and the husband's body has been laid to rest in a foreign country.

Buried in the grave is a wedding pillow that the martyr had given before leaving his hometown.

In the bitter wind and rain, Chun Cao still stood under the big tree, with her husband's grave beside her, and her eyes still fell on the end of the mountain road.

In Chuncao's heart, there was always a voice that said to herself very persistently: Dad, I'm afraid you are already on your way home.

Come back soon. Even if the sky falls and the mountains collapse, I will still wait for you.

The white clouds floated past one by one in the sky. The son grew up, and his appearance was almost the same as that of his father.

One day, the son came back from the mountain and sat beside his mother who was doing laundry by the stream full of thoughts.

His eyes followed a lone eagle flying blankly in the vast sky. . The son finally plucked up the courage to tell Chuncao: Mom, I have signed up to join the army.

After hearing this, Chun Cao trembled all over.

The son left anyway, and Chuncao still sent her son under the big tree at the intersection. The son suddenly turned around and fell to his knees at his mother's feet with a bang, tears streaming down his face. Chun Cao helped her son up, smiled hard, and said to her son: Go, son, go outside and learn a lot. Mom is waiting for you to come back under the big tree.

. Under the big tree, the flame of expectation was rekindled in Chun Cao's eyes that had gradually lost their luster. When the cruel whip of time whipped Chun Cao until her heart bled, her son finally came back.

The son came back lying in an exquisite urn. The men in the army said to Chuncao:

Good mother, your son died gloriously to save three children who fell into the water.

When another tomb appeared next to the big tree, the path hanging at the foot of the mountain suddenly turned into a dazzling lightning,

The golden light flashed silently. The ground disappeared. Chun Cao's eyes could no longer see anything.

However, the path leading outside the mountain has been deeply engraved in her heart.

A large-scale water conservancy project at the foot of the mountain has been launched vigorously. Immigration began. . . . . .

On the day before leaving, two lines of clear tears suddenly flowed down from the dry eye sockets of the spring grass. Under the big tree,

Chun Cao knelt in front of the graves of her husband and son and sobbed: I have all of you in my heart. I'm leaving.

........