Yu Qiuyu Snow
Beautiful snowflakes are flying. I haven't seen it for three years.
Last year in Fujian, it seemed that I had seen snow a little later than now. But that's the snow on the top of the mountain in the distance, not flying snowflakes. On the plains, it only occasionally sprinkled with raindrops, and never fell to the ground. Its color is gray, not white; its weight is like raindrops, which do not fly. As soon as it hit the ground, it immediately melted into water, leaving no trace, jumping, or making a hissing sound, just like what it looks like when it snows in Jiangsu and Zhejiang. It is true that the elderly Fujian people who saw this kind of snow for the first time in forty years felt a special meaning and talked about it with gusto, but for me, it always felt dull. "It snowed in Fujian", I never thought about it that way.
I like the snowflakes flying in Shanghai in front of me. It is "snow-white" white and as beautiful as a flower. It seemed to be lighter than the air. It did not fall from the air, but was lifted up from the ground by the air. However, it is also like a living creature, like swarms of gnats at dusk in summer, like bees during the honey-making period in spring. Its busy flight is up or down, fast or slow, or clinging to the body. , or crowd into the window gap, as if it has its own will and purpose. It is silent. But when it was flying, we seemed to hear the cries and footsteps of millions of people, the roar of the sea, the roar of the forest, and sometimes we seemed to hear the whispers of children and the calm evening prayers of the chapel. , the joyful song of birds in the garden... what it brings is gloom and cold. But in its flying posture, we see charitable mothers, lively children, smiling flowers, warm sun, silent sunset... It has no breath. But when it hits us, we seem to smell the fresh air in the wilderness, the elegant orchids in the valley, the rich roses in the garden, the light jasmine... During the day, It makes thousands of graceful gestures; at night, it emits a silvery brilliance, illuminating our walkers, and paints all kinds of flowers and trees on our glass windows, diagonally, Straight, curved, inverted. And the river, the clouds in the sky...
Notes from Mountain Residence gt; Sleeping soundly in the cold wind
There is a small interesting thing during the "Cultural Revolution" that always remains in my memory Shake.
At that time, the school was run by rebels and implemented militarized management. All teachers and students had to go out for exercises every morning. In fact, the school had already suspended classes at that time, and nothing happened after the exercise. Everyone dispersed. Therefore, the exercise was the only opportunity for the rebels to experience the authority of the leadership.
The teachers were all frightened and had to go; students like us who had fought against the rebels but were now trapped in a trap and had many troubles at home also had to go; only a few of us had to go. The students who call themselves the "Xiaoyao sect" insist on not doing exercises and sleep with their heads covered even though the loudspeakers in the high room are shouting endlessly. This was very disgraceful to the rebels, so it was decided at a meeting that tomorrow morning these people would be carried to the playground with their beds on display.
As expected, the process was followed the next day. On the playground in the cold winter morning, the cheering crowd struggled to carry out several beds with quilts hanging up. The rebels burst into laughter, and the teachers and students who were performing the exercise couldn't help but laugh. However, the next thing is troublesome. Are these "Xiaoyao faction" forced to get out of bed, get dressed and get up in public? It would be too pompous for them to do this, almost like a master. So the rebel leader ordered, "Let them lie down like this in public!" But what kind of public display is sleeping with their heads covered? While we were doing it, we looked at these beds. There was the biting cold wind here and the warm quilt there. It was so enviable. The leader of the rebel group seemed to feel that something was wrong, so he had to give another order: "The demonstration is over, carry it back!" Those warm quilts were carried back happily. Later, the classmates who carried them complained that at least two of the people who were carried in and out never woke up from the beginning to the end.
From this past incident, I remembered many truths.
To show off to the public is just the unilateral idea of ??the perpetrator. If the person being shown doesn't feel this way, it's probably a treat.
Punishment in the world can be divided into two types: direct injury and reputation and humiliation. There is nothing you can do about the former, but for the latter, ground is really a relative concept.
To achieve the reputation and humiliation of another person, one person needs to rely on many complex conditions. When these conditions cannot be fully controlled, it will be difficult to truly achieve the goal.
This is why the reputations of many people who are often under siege have survived, while those critical experts have worked hard for half their lives and failed to win any good reputation for themselves.
Let them stand in the cold wind and be impassioned. We will have a warm bed and sleep happily. Lifting it here and there, lifting it in and out, thank you for your hard work.
Reading Wutong Yu Qiuyu
The sycamore tree is right in front of the building where we live, in the middle of the flower garden and the grassland, at the corner of the winding path leading to the secluded place. Night and Earth stare at us.
It is much larger than other trees elsewhere, as thick as a hug, like a "great man" stretching into the air; and like a reserved girl, with lush leaves like long hair, The shawl covers the face and even the entire body. I guess that there must have been many saplings growing side by side with it at first. Later, maybe they were cut down due to environmental planning needs; maybe it was because of its good quality that it persisted tenaciously. It has calmly passed through the wind and rain of the years and grown taller. Reading trees by the window has become a part of my life.
One day, my mother wrote a letter from the north: The cold wave is coming, please keep warm and keep out the cold. At night, a quilt was added. Sure enough, in the middle of the night, there was a howling wind and rain knocking on the window lattice. I woke up from my deep sleep and heard the cold raindrops falling on the air like primitive percussion. So I couldn't sleep, thinking about letters from home. I think of the family tree that my mother talked about, and of my grandfather’s troubled fortunes. My maternal grandfather was a well-known local educator. He dedicated his whole life to the education of his country and gave up several opportunities to be hired externally for higher positions. However, during those unprecedented years, he was unwilling to succumb to inhuman torture and committed suicide on a cold rainy winter night. I didn't have the opportunity to meet his old man, but I just read a picture of his solemn face in a black frame at my uncle's house. I dare not say how skilled the artist is, but I firmly believe that those eyes are magical. Every time I stand in front of it, there is always a kind of emotion transmitted to me, which silently collides with my soul.
Thinking about it, accompanied by the wind and rain, I felt sleepy, so I put on my clothes and went to the window alone. The night was dyed like ink, and in an instant I merged into the thick night. I was surprised to find that there were a few cold stars blinking sleepy eyes in the sky! It was an illusion before, there was no rain at all, only wind, a brutal and violent north wind. At this time, the thing that made me "feel sad" the most was the sycamore tree not far away. Only its dark blue outline can be vaguely seen, bearing the desolation of the horizon. Wherever the gust of wind passes, there are leaves and branches trembling with each other, sometimes like Russian folk songs, sometimes like vague poetry. Somehow, my grandfather's portrait suddenly came to mind again, and it seemed to have an indescribable fit with this silent phoenix tree. We don't want Wenda to reach up to the sky with his giant arms, but he also has the magnanimity to protect his side.
When I woke up the next day, the red sun filled the window and it was sunny.
What I miss is the yellow leaves of the tree. Pushing open the window lattice, the tree I read was actually an oracle bone inscription showing the mountains and dew; instead of the leaves that covered the sky and the sun yesterday, what was left was a tall and straight Qiu tree. My heart felt like someone had placed a heavy piece of ice on it. I could no longer imagine myself as a bird and flew towards the tree. The wind this night has withered all the life of the trees! And the wind can do nothing to you. What falls will eventually fall, and there is no need to hold it back. You still have the pride to fight the entire winter before spring!
So, I understood the loneliness of Wutong, not lamenting the indifference of time, not lamenting the loneliness in the sea of ??people, but a kind of Zen, a kind of mystery of tranquility and emptiness, obeying nature and resisting nature, understanding nature but being confused. Naturally, let the wind and rain erode, the four seasons cycle, the sun and the moon are dim, the flowers bloom and fall, what a calm and indifferent magnanimity! I can't help but sigh at the untimely death of my grandfather, and mourn his helplessness and sorrow for obeying destiny. people of that era.
There was another familiar rustling sound of leaves, tapping the eardrums kindly.
Looking down, a girl in red is jumping for joy on the path covered with yellow leaves, as if every leaf is accompanying her youthful steps. At this moment, a plume of fluffy sunlight poured in from my window sill, shining on an old book that had not been closed last night in front of my desk.
Yu Qiuyu’s classic prose: Taoist Tower, Yangguan Snow, Xinke, White-haired Suzhou, Jiangnan Town, Three Gorges, Stormy Tianyi Pavilion, Lonely Tianzhu Mountain, Su Dongpo’s Breakout, The Back of a Dynasty, End of the World Story, where is the hometown?