Cradle White Cliff Village (Part 1)
Author: Wang Qian Wang Xiangyu
Chenggu County, located in the southwest of Qin, has a history of more than 100 years since King Huiwen of Qin set up a county in Hanzhong County in the thirteenth year (312 BC) to the Western Han Dynasty. The county is located in the upper reaches of the Han River, bordering the Qinling Mountains to the north and pingba Mountain to the south, just like a shining pearl, embedded in the oval center of the Hanzhong Basin. The climate is mild, the rainfall is abundant, and the land is fertile, which is most suitable for farming. Rice and wheat are ripened twice a year, and rapeseed, mulberry and beans are also planted, which is known as "Northwest Little Jiangnan" by later generations, and the people are well fed.
The open Han River runs through the east and west of the county, and its large tributaries slide through the north and south of the two waters at the hanwangcheng city at the boundary between Chenggu and Yangxian, forming a frank and vast Han Plain. On the north bank of the Han River, two miles southwest of the county seat, is Zhang Qian's hometown, Baiya Village.
This village is more special, the terrain is slightly higher than the surrounding farmland, the southern embankment is eroded by the rolling east river water over the years, the riverbed sinks lower and lower, and it is a backwater bay that twists and turns. Every year in winter and spring, the amount of water drops sharply, most of the sand and gravel are exposed, and shallow water beaches of all sizes can be seen everywhere. If you stand on the riverbank and look at it, the steep river embankment is uneven, like a white jade carved cliff standing on the edge of the river. The smoke from the farmhouses on the embankment is like wisps of mountains and floating clouds. People probably named it White Cliff Village because of its geographical environment.
The houses of White Cliff Village are still some distance from the river embankment, empty, no crops, all deserted beaches, reeds, and willows. When you see cattle walking slowly, children chase and play with each other; pastoral songs are often heard, and water birds lead their necks to sing. The east of the village is continuous, the west of the village, the north of the village ditch more, the strange as weaving flat domain fertile wilderness, endless, is a veritable fish and rice town.
In the former Baiya Village, there were less than sixty households surnamed Zhang. On the southern edge of the village there are several tall elm, red trees and soap horn trees, and a lush foliage covers an ancient courtyard. The yard was full of chickens and ducks, and production tools such as ploughs and hoes were placed in an orderly manner under the eaves of the western porch. In the spacious hall, the shrines, mats, spinning wheels and looms take up most of the space and are somewhat crowded. To the south-east of the courtyard is the gate to and from the courtyard, and in front of the door is a dirt and sand road that leads to the official road. A few green leeks, cabbage and other farm vegetable gardens are just south of the road. Directly north of the courtyard is a row of five large tile houses, the east and west sides of the box room is slightly shorter, the east is the stove room, firewood room, and the west is the cow, horse, chicken and duck pen house. This is a wealthy family with forty or fifty acres of land production, which can be called "surplus grain in the warehouse and surplus gold in the pocket". The cultivated acres are not far behind the house, very close, and farming and harvesting can save a lot of labor.
The owner's surname is Zhang Hanling, and his ancestors live in this village. In his early years, he painstakingly read the sages and the hundred families of the sons, and worked as a small clerk in the county, extremely good at copying and writing, being humble and respectful, and being cautious in words and deeds. Because of the strict observance of funeral rites when burying his parents, he spent too much money and had to sell some of his land. In the three years of filial piety for both parents, the family road became increasingly depressed, and the situation deteriorated, and the livelihood appeared to be difficult and difficult, and he was forced to abandon his job to cultivate himself. Because of his youth and strength, diligent hands and feet, short-distance trafficking in the agricultural leisure, and his wife Wang's weaving and night spinning, feeding chickens and ducks, life has improved again in a few years.
Time flies, cold and summer come and go. One year in early February, when the spring was in full bloom, the wife gave birth to a son and the couple were very loving. Zhang Hanling, a new father, hopes that his children will grow up and make a difference, and he names the children "Qian" after searching their intestines and scraping their stomachs, which conveys a beautiful hope of a middle-aged son.
Summer is coming, and the fields are golden. One day, the cuckoo cry of the harvesting seed woke up Zhang Hanling, who was sleeping soundly. He got up and sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his sleepy eyes, and at the moment when he stretched out his arms and relaxed his waist, he looked sideways at the little baby sleeping sweetly in his wife's arms, then he dressed and pedaled his shoes, took the scythe sharpened in the night, opened the door and walked outside the courtyard.
The door "creaked" and the sleepy wife heard an "ah" sound, as if the husband had suddenly seen something unexpected.
Qian'er daddy, you... When the wife heard her husband screaming, she couldn't get dressed, jumped off the bed, lifted the curtains, and asked urgently.
"Quick, baby fuck!" Han Ling was at a loss for a moment, and only knew how to call out to his wife.
The wife returned to the bed, pulled up the quilt horns on the child's body, draped a light blue linen robe in her hand, and dragged her shoes and walked to the gate. When she held her husband's shoulder and looked forward, she couldn't help but scream and take a few steps backwards, and even her legs trembled. The couple was stunned for a while, and the husband threw the scythe in his hand before leaning forward to see what was going on.
It turned out that there was a baby wrapped in a small mattress at the gate. When Wang took him in his arms, the baby opened a pair of bright little eyes, looked at the two unfamiliar faces around him, and began to cry.
The couple looked at the crying baby in their arms and felt very pity. Carrying the baby back to the bedroom, Wang Dressed and fed him, treating him like Qian'er, and paying attention to hunger, cold and warmth. After three or five days, Han Ling always felt that this was inappropriate, and ordered his wife to take a bath for the baby, change into a new dress and wait at home, he hurriedly visited the neighbors to inquire about the whereabouts of the child's parents, but he never found anything, so he had to register with the government for adoption. He consulted with his wife, and the child was counted as the second in line, and named zhang jian. In fact, "thrift" and "pick" are homophonous, and the meaning of it is only understood by the couple.
The two little babies have thick eyebrows and big eyes, innocent and lively. Brother Tonggeng, only Zhang Jian was a few months younger, and it was difficult for outsiders to distinguish who was the eldest and the smallest of the two, only wang clan knew best. When she bathed Jian'er that day, she found a reddish-brown mole on the left side of the child's waist.
When Zhang Qian was born, Wang said that she dreamed of a large white-fronted tiger with hanging eyes breaking into the house. Therefore, Zhang Hanling, who firmly believed in fangshu, thought hard and meditated and named his son "Qian". The tiger symbolizes bravery, and "qian" means to hold high the flag, and he hopes that his son Changda will become a brave general who protects the country of Anbang. In fact, Zhang Qian looks stronger than his younger brother, and there is nothing special about him compared to the children of ordinary people. The same sucking of breast milk, the same wow crying, but Han Ling always has some hope for Zhang Qian, he does not want his son to be as ordinary as himself.
Source: Zhang Qianchuan