Down at the foot of a hill, there is a small door.
Behind the door is a little room under the ground.
A family of ants lives there.
There are many of them.
More than you could count.
One morning the sun came up.
Dew stood on the grass.
The ants lined up at the door.
They were going out to look for food.
One went behind the other.
One went behind the other.
At the very front walked the ant captain.
He had two tiny feelers on his head.
His feelers moved.
Then they moved again.
He smelled something.
It was sweet.
It was warm.
It smelled like a grain of rice.
Not far away lay one grain of rice.
It was white and round.
It was bigger than an ant.
The ants gathered around it.
Some took one side.
Some took the other.
They all pulled together.
Up went the rice.
Step by step, they carried it home.
They climbed over a small stone.
They slipped under a leaf.
One went behind the other.
One went behind the other.
The line was long.
It looked like a black thread.
It moved across the sand.
It moved over the grass.
They set the rice down inside.
Then they came out again.
This time they found a flower petal.
It was pink and soft.
It felt like cloth.
They carried it home.
It would make a little bed.
Out they came once more.
This time they found a grass seed.
It was round and shiny.
It rattled a little as they walked.
They carried it home.
It would make a little supper.
Then they found a crumb of bread.
It was dry and light.
They carried it home too.
Then they found one sesame seed.
It was smaller than a dot.
They carried it home as well.
The smallest ant came last.
He was slow.
His legs were short.
But he never gave up.
He kept walking.
The sun was warm on their backs.
The sand was warm under their feet.
The ants kept working.
They never stopped.
They never hurried.
Then the sky changed.
The wind grew strong.
It pushed the grass one way.
Then it pushed the grass the other way.
The feelers of the ant captain moved again.
He smelled water in the air.
In China, people say this: when ants move house, rain is coming.
The ants were not worried.
They had one more job to do.
They built the doorway higher.
Grain by grain, they piled up the soil.
They made a tiny step at the door.
A little wall against the water.
Inside, everything was ready.
The rice sat in one corner.
The petal lay in one corner.
The seed rested in one corner.
The bread sat in one corner.
All of it was neat.
All of it was tidy.
Then the first drop of rain fell.
It hit a leaf.
Tap.
Then came another.
Tap, tap.
Then the rain began.
Outside it poured.
The sky turned a soft grey.
Not dark. Just grey.
Like a bowl turned over the hill.
It fell on the stones.
It fell on the grass.
Inside it was dry.
Inside it was warm.
The whole family pressed together.
No one was cold.
The rain sang outside.
One drop, then one drop.
It sounded like a soft drum.
It sounded like a slow song.
It tapped on the stones.
It tapped on the leaves.
It tapped on the little door.
The ants listened for a while.
Then they began to feel sleepy.
One went behind the other.
One went behind the other.
They all came home.
They lay close together.
They looked like little black seeds.
Tucked in a row.
Close and warm.
Inside, the air was soft.
It smelled of grass and soil.
It smelled like home.
The room was small.
But it was big enough for everyone.
It was always big enough.
The ant captain came in last.
He stood at the door a moment.
He looked at the rain.
He looked at the room.
Everyone was asleep.
He gave one small yawn.
He pulled the door closed.
Outside, the rain kept falling.
Inside, it was quiet.
Inside, it was soft.
Inside, a whole family was sleeping.
That is the old story of the ants who move house.
It is a gentle Chinese folktale.
It is also a Chinese fairy tale, and one of the oldest Chinese bedtime stories for children.
Now it is time to close your eyes.
Good night, ant captain.
Good night, little room under the hill.
This is a very old Chinese bedtime story. It is not long, and it is very gentle. Best read slowly, with the lights low.
