At the end of 2017, at the sixtieth anniversary celebration of a literary magazine, in a moment too lively, I was tempted to go out alone. One morning I had time to eat breakfast and went straight to Sichuan North Road to visit the tomb of Mr. Lu Xun in the former Hongkou Park.
The weather was sunny, and on weekends, the park is extremely crowded with people practicing in the morning. Into the park there is a fruit stall, apples, oranges, strawberries and other crocheted aromatic tassels, connecting the world literary square. Red men and green women walk through it, stepping to the warm beat and dancing neatly. It was so hot that most people took their jackets off. I tried to avoid the dancers and walked into the square. The bronze statues of the great men of letters are full-body figures, sitting or standing. Tolstoy holds his cane in his right hand, which at this point is hooked up to a gym-goer's satchel, giving him the appearance of a pale exodus. Shakespeare and Dickens held quills in their hands, which became natural hooks adorned with brightly colored light down jackets. Only Balzac, his sleeve hand "hidden", people will be difficult to attach, so the statue became a smooth poem.
Walking out of the World Literature Square, forward is to sell breakfast eateries, waiting for people from the house to the door. I think many years ago, Xiao Hong in this area, one day to buy breakfast, found that the paper wrapped in doughnuts is actually a translation of Mr. Lu Xun's original manuscript. Xiao Hong was shocked to inform Lu Xun, but Mr. Lu was bland and teased, "I am satisfied that I can actually wrap the doughnuts, so I can see that there are still some uses for it." I also do not know what the breakfast store here is now with what wrapped doughnuts, can still wrap that dialed up like a beautiful literary matter?
Bypassing the eatery forward, it is more crowded. All kinds of sound convergence, incomparable noise, the natural bird song annihilation. In the long scroll of secular life gradually opened, I also appreciate the background of the plant scenery. The maples were at their best, hanging full of red and yellow colored leaves, crystal clear by the sunlight, looking passionate and full of passion. Hardy azalea blooming, the red and pink flowers, in my eyes as a northerner who just experienced the December snow in Harbin, is undoubtedly the calendar card was missed tearing the spring, through the news of spring.
Lu Xun's tomb is very good to find, in the northwest corner of the park, no matter which tunnel has a signboard leading there. Square in front of the tomb is relatively open, the first to see is the rectangular lawn stands Lu Xun statue, he sat in a wicker chair, left hand holding a book, the right hand on the armrests, silently looking at the people to and fro. The statue has a tall pedestal, coupled with the lawn surrounded by dense holly as a natural fence, so the cemetery looks solemn and dignified. However, the pedestal is so high that the statue sitting on it is like a shadow blocking Lu Xun's grave. In other words, whether Lu Xun is willing or not, he has to face his own back every day.
On both sides of the graveyard, there are camphor trees, magnolias and pines planted on the stone roadside, and the trees are tall and thick. I casually picked a magnolia leaf, flicked it towards Mr. Lu Xun's long resting place, gently placed it on the tomb railing, right as flowers. In my reading impression, Mr. Lu Xun didn't write much about flowers. In From the Hundred-Clover Garden to the House of Three Flavors and Autumn Nights, when he wrote about flowers such as wax plums, he either skipped over them, or he couldn't even name the flowers he was describing. What he writes about most colorfully is the ring of red and white unnamed flowers at Yu'er's grave at the end of Medicine.
I prefer Lu Xun's novels to his miscellaneous writings, and I especially like New Series of Stories. One of the "casting sword" thrilling, I am the short story as a history book. Lu Xun is a skillful sculptor of characters, and the characters in his novels are like forged bronze, with deep echoes when they are knocked. And these characters are full of moving light - the poetic light of sadness, such as "Confucius", "Q", "The Storm", "Medicine", "The Hurtful Death", "Tomorrow", and other classic chapters, is the writer with his pen dipped in his own life's blood, dissolving the block in his heart, the pure beauty of the ghosts sown in the spring fog, they are full of symbolism, with the muscles and bones. They are full of symbolism with muscles and bones. Lu Xun Park in the world of literature on the square of those sculptures, if replaced by Q, Kong Yijie, single four sister-in-law, nine catty old lady, the ruler between the eyebrows, Lu Weifu, is also very appropriate - which of these people is not a master of the weight it!
Lu Xun's tomb by the good granite butt inlaid, its form is very much like a gray old book, half buried half out of the ground. Because it is the only tomb in the garden, it looks distinguished and lonely. In fact, whether it is Lu Xun's original wife Zhu An, or incomparable reverence for Lu Xun Xiao Hong, have expressed in the last words of the idea of burying next to Lu Xun, but unfortunately failed to do as desired - how can it be as desired? Lu Xun has explained in the article after the event, "quickly collect the coffin, buried, pull down", also expressed in the "after the disease", do not like to be memorialized, do not like elegiac couplets, if there is the purchase of paper, ink and white cloth money, why not choose a few Ming and Qing dynasty history to print print. These are by no means pretentious, in line with his temperament.
Lu Xun's tomb is not quiet, the left and right sides of the stone pole under the flower corridor, on the one hand, two men are practicing fighting, each other's fists and feet; on the other hand, three amahs, chatting about what. I took off my hat and bowed three times y to this cold tomb, and was silent for a long time, then turned to leave. I think Lu Xun was buried in this downtown garden, even if there are green trees and grass embellished, spring flowers, autumn and moon, wind, rain, thunder and lightning to do the eternal calendar, but ultimately less of a person to go after the most should enjoy the tranquility of the silence, so I don't know if he is really resting in peace.
When I left the cemetery, the wind suddenly gusted, stirring up the ground leaves and dust, flying in mid-air. All the trees in the park, at this time, have become drummers, and the sound of the wind, issued a tidal wave of roar, annihilating the noisy human voice. Turn around and look, I dedicated to Mr. Lu Xun's piece of magnolia leaves, has disappeared, I seem to hear his slightly mocking laughter: admiration and nostalgia, but a wind, let it go!