摘要："滴-滴-滴——咕-咕-咕——"窗外的北红尾鸲又在唱歌了。辰辰托着腮帮子，眼睛一眨不眨地盯着教室窗外那棵大榕树。阳光透过树叶的缝隙洒下来，在课桌上投下斑驳的光影，就像一幅会跳舞的画。

第二章 寻找会说故事的古树

第二章 寻找会说故事的古树

"滴-滴-滴——咕-咕-咕——"窗外的北红尾鸲又在唱歌了。辰辰托着腮帮子，眼睛一眨不眨地盯着教室窗外那棵大榕树。阳光透过树叶的缝隙洒下来，在课桌上投下斑驳的光影，就像一幅会跳舞的画。

"梧桐山的深处，有一棵千年古树。年轮里装满了故事，每天给鸟儿们讲述......"北红尾鸲的歌声仿佛带着魔力，辰辰的思绪早已飘到了那座云雾缭绕的大山深处。

"辰辰同学！"王老师的声音突然在耳边炸响，吓得辰辰差点从椅子上跳起来。王老师的手指正敲着他的课桌，"你在想什么呢？这个问题你来回答。"

辰辰慌慌张张地站起来，脸颊发烫。他刚才完全没听见老师问了什么，只能支支吾吾地说："我、我在想一个问题......"

"哦？什么问题比课堂内容还重要？"王老师推了推眼镜，镜片后的眼睛闪着好奇的光。

"我在想......有人能听懂鸟语，您信不信？"辰辰脱口而出，随即就后悔了。教室里立刻爆发出一阵哄笑。

王老师却出人意料地没有生气，反而露出若有所思的表情："鸟语？古时候确实有个叫公冶长的人，是孔子的学生，据说他能听懂鸟说话。"

"真的吗？"辰辰眼睛一亮，指着窗外，"那您知道那只北红尾鸲在唱什么吗？"

王老师笑着摇摇头："我可没那个本事。不过......"她突然话锋一转，"明天就是五一假期了，我给大家布置一个特别的任务——搜集一个关于深圳地名的故事。比如大鹏湾的来历，或者笔架山为什么叫笔架山。"

放学铃一响，辰辰就像离弦的箭一样冲出了教室。他一路小跑回家，书包在背后一颠一颠的。

"妈妈！梧桐山为什么叫梧桐山啊？"辰辰刚踏进家门就大声问道。

厨房里传来锅铲碰撞的声音和妈妈的回应："我不知道啊，问你爸爸去。他是植物专家。"

辰辰三步并作两步跑上二楼，猛地推开爸爸书房的门。爸爸正戴着眼镜研究一本厚厚的植物图鉴，被突如其来的动静吓了一跳。

"老爸！梧桐山为什么叫梧桐山？山里是不是有一棵千年梧桐？"辰辰连珠炮似的发问。

爸爸摘下眼镜，揉了揉鼻梁："怎么突然对这个感兴趣？"他思索了一下，"千年梧桐我没听说过，不过梧桐山确实有一棵千年篦齿苏铁，是国家一级保护植物。至于山的名字由来嘛......"爸爸突然顿住了，"咦，我还真被问住了。"

"古树会告诉我的！"辰辰神秘兮兮地说，眼睛亮得像星星。

爸爸笑着摇摇头，只当儿子又有了什么天马行空的想象："好吧，明天我正好要去梧桐山考察，带你一起去。"

第二天清晨，天刚蒙蒙亮，父子俩就出发了。四月的梧桐山正值毛棉杜鹃盛开的季节，粉红色的花朵如云霞般铺满山坡，远远望去，整座山仿佛披上了一件华丽的锦袍。

"哇！"辰辰忍不住惊叹，但很快又皱起眉头，"爸爸，古树在哪里啊？还要走多久？"

爸爸背着装满工具的背包，步伐稳健："快了快了，就在前面那个山坳里。"

这时，一只褐翅鸦鹃从他们头顶掠过，发出清脆的鸣叫："翻过一道山，再走一面坡，古树就在那山窝～"

辰辰一听，立刻像泄了气的皮球一样坐在地上："天哪！还要翻山越岭啊？"

爸爸惊讶地回头："怎么了？累了吗？"

"那只鸟说'翻过一道山，再走一面坡，古树就在那山窝'，这也太远了吧！"辰辰撅着嘴说。

爸爸哈哈大笑，眼角的皱纹舒展开来："我儿子什么时候会编这么押韵的句子了？"他从背包里拿出水壶和巧克力，"来，补充点能量。要不要爸爸背你一段？"

"才不要！"辰辰一下子跳起来，三两口吞下巧克力，"我可是男子汉！"说完就雄赳赳气昂昂地迈开步子，逗得爸爸直乐。

经过近两小时的跋涉，他们终于到达了一个被群山环抱的小山窝。这里幽静清凉，空气中弥漫着泥土和植物的清香。在中央空地上，矗立着一棵形态奇特的古树——它的树干粗壮扭曲，表皮布满了岁月的沟壑，顶端伸展着羽状的大叶子，在阳光下泛着油亮的光泽。

"这就是千年篦齿苏铁，"爸爸轻声说，仿佛怕惊扰了这位古老的居民，"它已经在这里生长了一千多年，见证了无数历史变迁。"

辰辰仰头望着这棵巍然屹立的古树，心跳加速。他拉了拉爸爸的衣角："爸爸，你能让我单独和古树待一会儿吗？我想...想仔细观察它。"

爸爸犹豫了一下，看了看手表："好吧，我去附近查看几棵标记过的树。记住，不要乱跑，有事情立刻用手表联系我。"

等爸爸走远后，辰辰小心翼翼地靠近古树。他深吸一口气，轻轻抚摸着树皮上深深的纹路，小声问道："树爷爷，您能告诉我梧桐山为什么叫梧桐山吗？"

一阵微风拂过，古树的叶子沙沙作响。辰辰惊讶地发现，那声音渐渐变成了一个苍老而温和的声音："呵呵呵，多少年没有人类孩子来问我这个问题了……"

Chapter 2: Searching for the Storytelling Ancient Tree

"Tweet-tweet—coo-coo—" The Daurian redstart outside the window was singing again. Chenchen rested his chin in his hands, staring unblinkingly at the big banyan tree outside the classroom. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on his desk like a dancing painting.

"Deep in Wutong Mountain, there's an ancient tree a thousand years old. Its rings are filled with stories, told to the birds every day..." The redstart's song seemed magical, and Chenchen's thoughts had already wandered to that mist-shrouded mountain.

"Chenchen!" Teacher Wang's voice suddenly exploded in his ears, startling him so much he nearly jumped out of his seat. Her finger tapped his desk. "What are you thinking about? Answer this question."

Flustered, Chenchen stood up, his cheeks burning. He hadn't heard the question at all and stammered, "I—I was thinking about something..."

"Oh? What's more important than class?" Teacher Wang adjusted her glasses, her eyes glinting curiously behind the lenses.

"I was wondering... do you believe some people can understand bird language?" The words tumbled out before he could stop them, and the class burst into laughter.

Surprisingly, Teacher Wang didn't scold him. Instead, she looked thoughtful. "Bird language? In ancient times, there was a man named Gongye Chang, a student of Confucius, who supposedly understood birds."

"Really?" Chenchen's eyes lit up as he pointed outside. "Then do you know what that redstart is singing?"

Teacher Wang chuckled. "I don’t have that ability. But..." She suddenly changed the subject. "Tomorrow is the May Day holiday, so I’m assigning a special task—collect a story about a Shenzhen place name. For example, why Dapeng Bay is called that, or why Bijia Mountain got its name."

As soon as the bell rang, Chenchen dashed out of the classroom like an arrow. He ran all the way home, his backpack bouncing behind him.

"Mom! Why is Wutong Mountain called Wutong Mountain?" he shouted as soon as he stepped inside.

From the kitchen came the clatter of a spatula and Mom's reply: "I don’t know—ask your dad. He’s the plant expert."

Chenchen bounded up the stairs two at a time and flung open the door to Dad’s study. Dad, wearing glasses, was poring over a thick plant guidebook and jumped at the sudden noise.

"Dad! Why is Wutong Mountain called that? Is there a thousand-year-old phoenix tree in the mountain?" Chenchen fired off his questions like a machine gun.

Dad took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Why the sudden interest?" He thought for a moment. "I’ve never heard of a thousand-year-old phoenix tree, but there is a thousand-year-old Cycas pectinata in Wutong Mountain—a nationally protected plant. As for the mountain’s name..." He paused. "Huh, I actually don’t know."

"The ancient tree will tell me!" Chenchen said mysteriously, his eyes shining like stars.

Dad laughed and shook his head, assuming his son was daydreaming again. "Alright, I’m going to Wutong Mountain for research tomorrow—you can come along."

The next morning, before dawn, father and son set off. In April, Wutong Mountain was in full bloom with Rhododendron moulmainense, its pink flowers covering the slopes like rosy clouds. From afar, the whole mountain looked draped in a magnificent robe.

"Wow!" Chenchen gasped, but then frowned. "Dad, where’s the ancient tree? How much farther?"

Dad, carrying a backpack full of tools, strode steadily. "Almost there—just past that hollow."

Just then, a crow pheasant flew overhead, chirping clearly: "Cross one hill, climb one slope, the ancient tree waits in the grove~"

Chenchen plopped down on the ground like a deflated balloon. "Ugh! We still have to cross a mountain?!"

Dad turned back, surprised. "What’s wrong? Tired?"

"That bird said, 'Cross one hill, climb one slope, the ancient tree waits in the grove.' That’s so far!" Chenchen pouted.

Dad burst out laughing, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Since when did my son compose such rhyming lines?" He pulled out a water bottle and chocolate from his backpack. "Here, recharge. Want me to carry you for a bit?"

"No way!" Chenchen sprang up, devoured the chocolate in two bites, and marched ahead with exaggerated determination. "I’m a man!" Dad chuckled.

After nearly two hours of hiking, they finally reached a small hollow surrounded by peaks. It was quiet and cool, the air filled with the fresh scent of earth and plants. In the center stood a peculiar ancient tree—its trunk thick and twisted, its bark etched with deep grooves, its crown stretching out with feathery fronds that gleamed in the sunlight.

"This is the thousand-year-old Cycas pectinata," Dad said softly, as if afraid to disturb the ancient resident. "It’s been growing here for over a millennium, witnessing countless changes in history."

Chenchen gazed up at the towering tree, his heart racing. He tugged Dad’s sleeve. "Dad, can I stay alone with the tree for a while? I want to... study it closely."

Dad hesitated, checked his watch, then nodded. "Alright, I’ll go check some marked trees nearby. Remember—don’t wander off, and call me on your watch if anything happens."

Once Dad was gone, Chenchen cautiously approached the tree. Taking a deep breath, he gently touched the deep ridges in the bark and whispered, "Grandpa Tree, can you tell me why Wutong Mountain is called that?"

A breeze rustled the leaves, and the sound gradually transformed into a gentle, aged voice: "Hehehe... It’s been so long since a human child asked me that question..."

来源：小说讲坛