Please give me the original text of "That Tree", not the deleted one in the second volume of the ninth grade Chinese textbook...

That tree has been standing on the side of the road for a long time. When the road was just a muddy path, it stood there; when the first car passed on the road, it stood there; when there were only a few old-fashioned bungalows in this area, it stood there. There.

The tree is a little stooped, showing its age, but it is strong and stable, and the top of the tree is as dense as a newly exploded firework. People who know the tree say that one year, a typhoon blew for two days and nights. All nearby trees were blown down and many houses collapsed. Only the tree stood still, and it is said that not even a leaf was left. None fell off. It’s unbelievable. It is said that before new apartments were built in this area, during the typhoon emergency sirens on land, someone would always insert an incense stick into the swirling hole in the tree trunk.

It was indeed a strong tree. There were raised ribs and vertical cracks on the moldy black and moist bark, like it was made of pig iron. A few feet away, under the soil, you can still see the veins of tree roots. People who walk with their necks straight under the summer sun will rush to the foot of the tree like a hunting dog, take a breath of the thick shade, look up at thousands of palms and fingers holding the sunlight, and see the broken mercury leaking from between the fingers. Sometimes, indeed, even the leaves stand completely still.

So the birds came. When the birds sang, the children in the kindergarten a few feet away were also singing.

So the couple stopped. At night, there was a darker darkness under the tree; so the tree, the silent tree, secretly extended its roots, increasing the land it could shade, centimeter by centimeter. outward.

However, there are other things in this world, and other things are extending faster. Asphalt roads are paved mile by mile, high-voltage lines are laid out one thousand yards, and apartment buildings are lined up one after another. The platoon came over. Everything that had grown naturally on the ground was removed and uprooted. Only the tree was surrounded by layers of dead fish-like gray and white, and even its roots were crushed under the gray by the steamroller. But the top of the tree was still dripping with green after the rain, and with the new buildings as a foil, the green became deeper. Buses and buses put stop signs next to the trees so that people getting off the buses can hold umbrellas under the trees. At night, the drizzle is lighter than a cat's steps. It falls into the leaves and merges into little drops that ring on the road. It reveals the secret. It is very wet and very poetic. The tree has been scrutinized and calculated countless times by the foreman and the staff of the Public Works Bureau, but it is still green.

Taxis swarmed like hungry locusts. "Why is there a tree here?" a driver muttered. "And it's such an old and big tree." The passenger also murmured. In the billowing yellow dust raised by the wheels, in the anxious and angry sound of the trumpet, that piece of pure sunshine is no longer useful. The bus station was moved and moved into the bus shelter. The fruit stall was moved, to a place where pedestrians could stop leisurely. The kindergarten also needs to be moved to see where it belongs to the children. Only the tree stood still, not even a leaf fell. The fluffy leaves are still green, and they are very green.

Ah, ah, the tree has no legs. The tree is a hereditary native and a follower of spring mud. When a tree is separated from its roots, and when its roots are separated from the soil, the tree is destroyed. Their tradition is to be killed at the neck, and even the mythologists never talk about escaping into the forest. Not even a leaf escapes, no matter how strong the wind is. Even though there are 100,000 clouds floating above the head, there are 200,000 footprints on the ground. No matter that the bird clan jumping far between the branches has changed its descendants for fifty generations, no matter how much the descendants of the birds have inhabited every green mountain. When the seedlings grew up, when God stretched out his hand to baptize, God once said: "You are green here, you live green, you die green, and you die green again." Ah! So the tree risked its life to cover the lost land, making a futile contribution, looking up to God under the starry sky.

On this day, a drunk driver hit a tree trunk at a speed of 60 miles. So people die. So the traffic expert pronounced that the tree must pay with its life. So the day came. The chainsaw bit off the tree's ankle bone, chewed it up, and sprinkled a ring of white bone meal. The tree just groaned as it fell to the ground. The massacre was arranged late at night so as not to affect traffic on the road. The night was very quiet, just like the time of the tree's ancestors, when stars were shining over thousands of households and the sky was solemn, but the tree didn't say anything, and neither did God. Everything is predetermined, everything has a tacit understanding first, no more words. The old lady who lives next to the tree said that she heard the tree sighing, one after another, like a severe asthma attack. The tree-cutting workers heard nothing. When the tree tilted slowly, they only noticed one thing: the street lamp hidden under the leaves was exceptionally bright, and the road suddenly opened up, as if it had been widened several feet.

The dismemberment and removal of the body were completed overnight. In the morning, passers-by only saw broken leaves on the ground, and every square centimeter on the leaves was still green. As expected, it lives and dies green. Slowly, the road was dyed with the glow; slowly, the scavenger woman appeared all the way, waving her broom. They wear bamboo hats and wrap their arms, and are relatives of the tree. After sweeping up the roots of the tree, they stood around the growth rings and looked at the wind and rain patterns in circles to estimate how big the roots were and how many kilograms of firewood they could split into. One said that yesterday morning, she swept this street. The tree was still there, but the ants living in the trunk moved away from the tree roots to the other side of the road, flowing into a thin black river. She said in a testimonial tone that she had never seen so many ants, and it must be an ant country. She even said that some of the ants were as big as flies. As she spoke, she used a broom to mark out the route of the large immigrants. The tires of the cars cut the procession into several sections several times, but the order was not disordered. To her companions, who had their eyes wide open, she displayed the wealth of knowledge unique to a country woman.

The old tree is psychic. It predicts its fate and tells the parasites in its body about its disaster. So the weak but tenacious nation decided to go on an expedition, just as they had come on the expedition. After each black fighter leaves the nest, he first walks around the tree trunk to express his reluctance to leave. This is what the cleaning woman from the country said. This is the end, they come to the tree's funeral.

Two weeks later, the roots were dug up. In order to cut off the big head covered with beards, the executioner made a trap close to it and cut off all the arteries and veins. It was still night time. There were no stars or moon this night, and it was as dark as a piece of grass jelly ice. They brought sharp axes, American-made pickaxes, and work lights. The artificial bright light cast the shadow of the pickaxe and swinging ax on the road, and on the curtains on the second floor of the apartment, it jumped and galloped like a Big Mac. The sweat exceeded the budget, and some people doubted that the dead tree could still resist. Before the trap was filled, the vehicle was diverted, and several motorcyclists who took pleasure in violating the rules fell into it and were carried to the hospital. But all this has passed. Now, with the sun and moon shining brightly, and the thoroughfares as sharp as a stone, no one knows that such a tree has ever existed, let alone that thousands of broken roots are suffocated under layers of stones, asphalt, and asphalt.