The city is a breeding ground for dreams, even if you live on the edge of the city, the identity is low and ambiguous, your dreams are colorful, it is the multicolored balloon that rises higher and higher. Compared with the quiet villages deep in the mountains, the breathing of the city is short, and the buildings in the city grow faster than the crops in the field, which urge you to make money and make you not even want to go back to your increasingly deserted village for the New Year.
Excerpts from the text
The door of good luck is not open. They get out of the car and naturally play the role of good guys for the sake of righteousness. They helped the old man into the house, first closed the courtyard door of the villa, and then closed the heavy door, and Bai Yinhua quietly locked the safety lock on the back of the door.
Big Daddy, you didn't fall anywhere, did you? Bai Jinhua asked.
In the face of the two strangers who entered the house, Hong Yulin looked a little confused, he opened his mouth, not knowing what to say. At this time, Erha began to bark wildly. Two ha, don't bark. The old man finally said. Sit down and drink tea.
Bai Jinhua judged that the old man did not recognize them, but he pretended to know them and showed kindness, which was good luck opening its second door. Big Daddy, don't you know us anymore? Bai Jinhua asked with a smile.
Just now after they helped the old man up, the old man suddenly said, you are back? Bai Jinhua answered in passing, came back, came back. He speculated that the old man had treated them as someone in the family. Bai Jinhua's grandmother in her hometown also became an old fool, and she couldn't find her way home in a small village, and she didn't know where to hide the pocket money she had accumulated for a lifetime, and even the Bai Jinhua Baiyinhua brothers she brought up from childhood could not recognize it. What Bai Jinhua needed to figure out now was how confused the old man in front of him had gone.
I recognize it. I recognize it. A difficult smile appeared on the old man's face. It's a lot like you're greeted warmly on an occasion, and you rack your brains and search for dry sausages and can't remember who the other person is, but you have to pretend to hide your embarrassment and embarrassment. Hong Yulin's current difficulty was also that he didn't know where to take the two young people. In the past, when guests came to the house, they were greeted; in many cases, he never had to get up to welcome the guests who came to visit, and it was a great face to take time to meet the guests. Family members said he was old, didn't want to see anyone more, and liked to live alone in his long memories. The more rashly they say this, the more the old man is like a dry grass in a great river, and the farther he drifts from the outside world. Only Hong Yulin himself knew what a lonely and helpless world he lived in, just like the guests he couldn't remember now, he was a little helpless, and it seemed that he had waited for ten thousand years, and finally waited for the younger generation to ride home on the wings of the sun.
Alzheimer's disease, Chinese slightly disrespectfully called Alzheimer's, old confusion, is also called AD patients in medicine, and may be a burden that cannot be lifted on the shoulders of all children. Hong Hanmei first sensed that her father was unfortunately slipping into the abyss of AD patients, and two years ago reminded her brother Hong Hanguo to pay attention. However, Hong Hanguo, as a major general in the border defense armed police force, has been busy with official duties for a long time and is not impressed with his father's situation. Speaking of the elderly, there are times when they are not awake. My father has lived for more than eighty years, can eat and sleep, no disease, blood pressure is not high, do not feel twice a year, enough to worry. In the face of his daughter who returned to China to visit his relatives, his father would no longer inquire about the social security situation of US imperialism over and over again, and he would never see him reading the People's Daily and the "Reference News" every day, and even the "News Network" was not allowed to watch it on time. She consulted doctors in the United States about her father's condition. The doctor said that your father's current illness belongs to the early stages of AD, which is irreversible and will only get worse. From a loss of recognition, to amnesia, to a complete loss of the ability to take care of one's own life. She remembers the family reunion dinner on the day she came home last year, and the old father held up a glass of wine and said to her, Mom, you are hard. The juniors at the dinner table laughed and turned to the sky, and the old man was at a loss for a moment, not knowing what he had done wrong. Hong Hanmei couldn't help but shed tears at that time.
If the mother hadn't gone first, the father wouldn't have aged so fast. My family thinks so. A loved one is aging, not only in the wrinkles on his face, the gray hair on his head, and the more heddlers, he is a lamp that gradually dims, a stream that flows into the desert of the years, an old tree that slowly withers away. This is something that no one can stop. Hong Hanmei understands these truths, and what she can't understand is: why irresistible aging destroys a person's intelligence, erases his memory, and makes him an idiot. Whether he was once the president and prime minister, or a pawn of the trafficker. It is as if God has chosen some people to show the world the cruelty and mystery of the end of life; or rather, between the world of life and the underworld, there is a black hole in which only they are trapped, dark, ethereal, misty, chaotic, chaotic, and chaotic, and no one can save it, and no one can understand it.
- "The Eraser"
Time is like a tulle-like mountain on the mountainside opposite my room, with beautiful and mysterious uncertainty. In some cases, the existence of time is not determined by the hour and minute hands or the rise and fall of the sun, but may be something else. The twilight drum and morning bell in the temple, the hymns in the church; the "whistling" impact of the milking girl stroking the milk into the barrel, the resurgence of Aunt NaZhen's fire pit, the rise of cooking smoke, through the skylight above the fire pond to awaken the sleeping earth; the inevitable drizzle of every day when drinking morning butter tea, the inadvertent chirping of the female calf under the yard, the silent labor of several farmers in the field, occasionally a string of songs; the bells of the horse gang clang in the silence of the village, like the beating notes on the earth, gradually drifting away In front of the peace pagoda at the mouth of the village, several Tibetan elderly people shook the prayer wheel in their hands and began their day's prayer turn; the clouds and mist on the mountainside were pulled away by the wind, and the curtain was opened, and the snow mountain revealed its majestic posture, holy and dazzling, pure and intoxicating, making people stunned.
In the face of the snowy mountains, any words of praise will seem vulgar and cheesy, and you will only be in a daze. Snowy mountains are suitable for people in a daze. Looking at each other is not tired, only Jingting Mountain, that is also a feeling of being in a daze. At this time, time often stands still, and people do not know the heavens and the earth. The dirt in your soul is washed over and over again by the high snowy mountains, and you even feel that you will become more and more transparent under the reflection of the snowy mountains. Until Aunt Na Zhen went to the flat roof of the Tibetan-style clay palm house to simmer Sang, facing the snow mountain- the sacred mountain - shouting loudly: La-la-la, God has won! Until the mulberry smoke of a village rises in the east and west, until the figure of the gods patrolling in the sky gradually blurs, until the fairy of heaven, Yangjin Dolma, or one of its beautiful Dolmas— I can't always tell who of the twin sisters is who, they are not a matter of how much they resemble, but as if one is a mirror of the other— driving cattle and sheep from the pasture over a hill, crossing three streams, walking through the fields of potato blossoms, bypassing the white tower at the mouth of the village, and pushing the door in the twilight. Then he came to the bed where I was lying and said, Big brother, it's dinner. This is why people do not know what day and night, what year this year.
- "Shangri-La Inn"
New book recommendation
Shangri-La Inn
Fan Wen
Beijing October Literature and Art Publishing House
Published in January 2022
Shangri-La Inn is a selection of novellas by the famous writer Fan Wen, including five novellas.
The early works "Blue Glacier", "Shangri-La Inn" and "Hero's Bones" have the characteristics of the iconic "Tibetan Domain". Write about the thrilling journey of backpackers to visit the glaciers of Tibet, the redemption experience of a middle-aged man in a frustrated city who mistakenly entered the Taoyuan, and a personal heroic fictional legend with strong magical colors. With the warm and innocent naturalness of Tibetans in Tibetan areas, it contrasts the trivialities of the present world, contrasts "divinity" and "human nature", and transmits critical consciousness. The recent works "Eraser" and "Guan Shan Farewell" are more close to urban life. "Eraser" is a metaphor for the loss of memory of the elderly with Alzheimer's disease and the urgency of workers to change their social identity; in "Farewell to the Mountains", the desires and interests of urban men and women are intertwined, and there is also a valuable line of truth in the wandering of people's hearts.
Old age, sickness, poverty, trekking hard... This collection shows these real spiritual dilemmas and tries to give relief to a weary mind.
About the Author
Fan Wen, born in November 1962 in Sichuan, graduated from the Chinese Department of Southwest Normal University (now Southwest University). He is currently working for the Yunnan Writers Association, a national first-class writer, an outstanding expert with outstanding contributions in Yunnan Province, one of the first batch of "Yunling Literary and Art Masters", a member of the Whole Committee of the China Writers Association, and a member of the Novel Creation Committee of the China Writers Association. He is a member of the Jiusan Society.
He began publishing in 1986. Nearly 6 million words of literary works on various themes and genres have been published. As a representative of the "Tibet Trilogy" that reflects the history of Tibet over the past hundred years- "Water Milk Earth", "Compassion for the Earth", and "Earth Song". Among them, "Water Milk Earth" has been translated into French and published, and "Compassion for the Earth" has been translated into English. Another novel, Bise Zhai, which reflects the history of the construction of the Yunnan-Vietnam Railway, was translated and published in Italian, and "My Blood and My Soil" and "Eyes of Chongqing" are two newly published novels reflecting the history of the War of Resistance. He has won many important domestic literary awards such as the nomination award of the 7th, 8th and 9th Mao Dun Literature Awards, the 8th and 11th "October" Literature Awards, the 4th People's Literature Novel Biennial Award, and so on.
Editor: Xu Qingyang
Video Producer: Xu Qingyang
Actual photo: Yan Jin