In the autumn evening, the moon climbed up from Dongshan and shone on the empty vegetable field. A small carrot stood alone on the vegetable field.
The other radishes were taken away by the grandpa wearing a straw hat, and only this poor little one was left. Little Carrot thought uncomfortably, did Grandpa’s eyes be dim and didn’t see it, or did he think it was too small?
“Grandpa doesn’t want me anymore…” Little Carrot stood alone in the open field, the night dew dripping on its green leaves, like sad tears.
Not far from the little radish, a Mr. xi shuai (xi shuai) tidied the top hat on the ridge (geng). After tidying it up, it sat on a clod of soil and began to play the violin. What a beautiful piano sound, even the moon lowered his head to ling to listen. Those lovely notes danced hand in hand under the watery moonlight. Each note wore the same brown (he) hat as Mr. Cricket, and a pair of flexible and powerful feet.
The little carrot made a “pounce” and laughed. The sound of Mr. Cricket drives away the loneliness of Carrot.
Mr. Cricket also laughed. It stopped the bow and asked Little Carrot: “Dear friend, how am I doing?”
The carrot said: “It’s great!” It clapped its hands-of course, the hand of a carrot can’t be anything else, only the leaves. As a result, the teardrops on the leaves rolled into the soil.
Mr. Cricket said: “If you like it, I will show it to you every day.”
Since then, Mr. Cricket will play nice music to the carrot every night, whether it is windy or rainy.
Next to the vegetable field is a forest. When the leaves of the trees withered and fell one by one, the fields appeared more empty and quieter-many crickets moved to underground houses, where they would spend the winter safely and steadily.
Carrot is worried: Mr. Cricket is going to spend the winter too, right? Then, when the time comes, I will be the only one left in the entire vegetable field.
Mr. Cricket saw Carrot’s thoughts. It told Little Carrot: “My friend, I won’t leave you alone.”
Little carrot breathed a sigh of relief.
Mr. Cricket played the piano in the lin lie wind. Because of the shaking hands, those notes also tremble. They are trembling, wanting to snuggle, together, and no longer want to dance mischievously like early autumn.
Mr. Cricket stopped the bow, and said sorry to Carrot, “I’m sorry, my piano skill has deteriorated.”
“No, I think that is the most beautiful voice on the earth.”
Mr. Cricket and Carrot became the last inhabitants of the vegetable field.
Little Carrot knew that Mr. Cricket stayed for him, and he was grateful, but uneasy.
“Mr. Cricket, it’s so cold, I won’t hurt you, am I?”
“What! We are friends,” Mr. Cricket said firmly.
Oh, he and Mr. Cricket are friends! When Little Carrot thinks this way, she feels extremely happy, and she doesn’t feel cold anymore when the cold wind blows on her body.
Mr. Cricket moved the house under the leaves of the carrot. It kept playing the violin for the radish, and only went to the house to warm up (huo) when its hands were frozen.
The white dew turned into hoarfrost, and the little radish was so cold that its whole body was purple and red. Its leaves wilted (nian) and covered (fu) on Mr. Cricket’s house, like a small house was covered with a thin layer of bao (bao). .
Hoarfrost turned into white snow, and the northwest wind screamed in the wilderness. Mr. Cricket’s piano sound was inaudible, and even the carrot was frozen stiff.
I don’t know how many days passed before the little radish woke up: the spring breeze blew the ground, and green grass grew around it, as well as dots of wild flowers. It exclaimed with joy: “Mr. Cricket, spring is here, we can have a concert again!”
There was no response to Carrot’s cheering—a group of ants carried out Mr. Cricket’s body.
The little radish cried, feeling a warm current surging on his body. It quickly pulled out new buds, and the new buds quickly grew into tender branches, and the branches soon bloomed (zhan) snow-white flowers. Countless small cross-shaped flowers, like countless white crosses, fell with the spring breeze and covered Mr. Cricket’s body.
Little Carrot looked at the fluttering flowers and remembered Mr. Cricket’s notes-the same is true when the notes are dancing hand in hand.
“Mr. Cricket, this is the music I gave you.” Carrot whispered.
