"Grind the scissors, sharpen the kitchen knives... Sharpen the scissors, sharpen the kitchen knives..." A melodious shout came from the street. This shout was like a song, long-drawn, with an aftertaste, sweet and sweet, crossing the short wall and passing through the forest.

The transfer of ownership resounded in silence throughout most of the village.

The setting sun in the afternoon is painting the village into a painting.

"What is a kitchen knife?" I asked my mother. I know how to sharpen scissors, but I don't know how to sharpen a kitchen knife.

"It's just sharpening the knife, it's called something different." Mother replied, and then she said, "Just in time, my scissors are not fast anymore, and the knife can't cut anymore. You can take it to someone to sharpen it, and I'll pay for it later."

"I'm not going!" As soon as I said I had to deal with people, I collapsed half-heartedly, my heart was beating loudly, and I was at a loss what to do.

"What a man at the door!" my mother sighed, leaving me behind and walking out with the scissors and kitchen knife. I was very curious about the kitchen knife, so I followed my mother quietly when she wasn't paying attention.

"Why are you following me? If others don't come, you won't come either. When others come, you should follow me!" my mother scolded. I smiled awkwardly, blushing and still following.

"Grind the scissors, and then cut off the kitchen knife." The mother handed the object in her hand to the knife sharpener. The knife sharpener came on foot, carrying a stool and a pitcher in his hand. He wore a hat on his head.

Wearing an old blue cloth hat and a gray jacket and long trousers, which were in tatters and seemed to be covered with dirt, he looked almost like a beggar.

The sharpener put down the water jug, straightened the bench, spread his legs and straddled it. There was a glowing whetstone embedded on the top of the bench. He picked up the scissors, looked at them carefully to find the edge, and put his hand in

The jug took some water and poured it on the grindstone, then leaned over and sharpened the scissors. He sharpened the scissors in a rhythmic manner, "Chi la, chi la, chi la, chi la..."

The rhythm was steady and powerful, and the sound kept ringing. I looked at the hand of the sharpener holding the scissors, and it seemed like two pieces of old bark were protruding from the sleeves, full of cracks, black, and covered with traces of time.

The two pieces of old tree bark were moving back and forth. For a long time, the sharpener raised his head, wiped the edge with his fingertips, nodded with satisfaction, and then turned to the other side and started sharpening. "Chila, chila, chila.

, Chi la..."

Finally, he picked up the scissors and turned them in front of his eyes, looking at them. The two sharp edges glowed with two gleams of cold light, which was soul-stirring. The sharpener took the rag tied to the foot of the stool and placed it between the sharp edges.

He cut hard and the rag instantly split into two pieces. But the sharpener shook his head and was not satisfied. He stretched the scissors forward and narrowed one eye to trace the line, then picked up a small hammer and stabbed it with a sharp edge.

He tapped lightly on the side, "dang-dang" twice, raised the scissors and looked at it again. He took the rag and cut it, with a crisp "swish" sound, the rags split into two pieces, and the sharpener

Smiled with satisfaction.

Putting down the scissors, the knife sharpener picked up the rusty kitchen knife again. At this time, the mother picked up the sharpened scissors and looked at it, and pulled the rag to try it out. No need to use force, the two sharp edges seemed to automatically close in the middle, "

There was a "swish" sound, and the rag cracked. "Well-sharpened!" she said. She has been playing with scissors since she was a child, and she can tell how well it is sharpened by the sound and feel.

A good knife sharpener can give the knife new life.

I also took the scissors and looked at them for a long time. I also pulled the rag and tried to cut it pretendingly. The rag broke into two pieces. "Good job!" I also said.

"Be careful!" the knife grinder and my mother said in unison, and then they were amused by my seriousness.

The knife sharpener picked up the kitchen knife and did not put it directly on the whetstone. Instead, he turned around and still sat astride the bench. It turned out that there was a slanted trapezoidal sleeper at the end of the bench, and there was a sleeper fixed on it.

Iron ring. The knife sharpener inserts the handle of the knife into the iron ring, puts a diagonal sleeper underneath, and the kitchen knife lies there smoothly.

The sharpener bent down and took out a bow-shaped iron tool from the bag, with a steel shovel embedded in the middle. The whole tool was rusty, but only the blade of the steel shovel was sharp. He held both ends of the tool in his hands and

The blade was pointed at the top of the kitchen knife and shoveled hard, and layers of thin iron pieces fell to the ground like shavings.

I was very curious. It turns out that a kitchen knife can be planed and flattened by a planer just like a piece of wood. In my opinion, both are iron tools. Iron can be used to cut iron so fast. This is beyond my cognitive ability.

.

"Why do you do this to the kitchen knife? Do you still need to sharpen it?" I asked the knife sharpener.

"Of course it has to be sharpened, but it needs to be shoveled first. The cutting edge of scissors is steep, so it can only be sharpened without sharpening. It is different with kitchen knives. The cutting edge must be thin and smooth, so it must be sharpened first and then sharpened.

There's time!" replied the knife-sharpener.

"What do you mean by 'taking advantage of nothing'?" I asked. The knife sharpener didn't answer. He fell silent again, concentrating on sharpening the knife, then turned around to sharpen it, and the rusty edge became shiny.

The knife sharpener cleaned the kitchen knife, raised it in the air, bent his finger, and flicked it on the edge.

"Boom", the sound was like a tiger roaring and a dragon roaring. The knife sharpener smiled and handed the handle of the kitchen knife to my hand. When I took the kitchen knife, I raised my head and looked at him. His gray hair stretched out from the brim of his hat.

When he came out, his face was full of wrinkles, but his eyes were shining brightly.

"Okay, take it back and use it. It will be sharp within two years," he said.

Since then, I have become obsessed with sharpening knives. I found a piece of blue brick and found an abandoned and rusted sickle head. I propped up the green brick as a whetstone, poured some water on it, and sharpened the sickle head.

Come on. After a few times of rubbing, my back and legs ached, and a blister appeared on my finger. I was frustrated.

Zhang Hongguang, who was diagonally opposite the door, opened the door and walked in, looking at me with a smile.

"When I hear the sound of sharpening a knife, it turns out you are sharpening a sickle," he said.

"Yeah," I said, "I can't sharpen this sickle."

"Why are you playing with this if you have nothing to do? How about I teach you how to make a radio?" he said.

"Radio?" I was excited when I heard this. In the old school, I saw Zhang Pengjun, Wu Dadian and Zhang Hongguang making radios together. They were standing under the dilapidated windowsill of the school, holding a very unseemly radio in their hands.

I put the thing on my ears and listened to it in a showy way, shouting excitedly while listening. It turned out that it was the radio they made together. "Okay!" I threw away the sickle and said.

Just do it. We found a round iron box, evenly wrapped the enameled wire, tied a magnet to it, took out a long aluminum wire and hung it on the eaves, and then connected a ground wire and inserted it into the soil.

Then Zhang Hongguang clapped his hands and said that the "radio" was completed. He held the "radio" to his ear and turned it east and west, searching for signals.

"Yes," he said suddenly, "come and listen."

I took the "radio" and put it to my ear, listening carefully. The sound was high-pitched and thin, and occasionally seemed to be squeezed. There were singing, opera reviews and broadcasts, all mixed together in one place.
Chapter completed!