"Introduction
Under the Xizi Pavilion, the villagers do not know the prosperous scenery of the outer port, and they guard the world and the earth endlessly; as the years pass, the folk mentality has its own vast and benevolent and simple "avenue".
Under the pavilion
Hu Zhufeng
The old house with green tiles and mud walls in the old home has gradually been forgotten, and the daily grinding of the ears is like a cloud of smoke, and the time has passed, and no trace of it can be found. The Xizi Pavilion at the mouth of the old street is still there, wind and rain, and does not change its quaint appearance. When the sky is clear, there are old people who go to the pavilion to burn the writing paper, which is classical and idle, and the brick stove paper ash seems to be permeated with tranquility, flying out of the rhyme of poetry and book music, and floating into the distant state of mind of dark yellow and indifferent.
I vaguely remember the farmers by the pavilion in those days, the courtyard was quiet, the grass and trees were sparse, and the summer was particularly green and verdant. There is a vegetable field next to the house, and eggplant, peppers, pumpkins, lentils, and sunflowers are planted. A green vine wrapped around the peach tree, unconsciously climbed to the branches and spread over the top of the tree, and it shook slightly without wind. Someone drew water, irrigation, and slurred laundry in front of the door, and for hundreds of years went up and down, and the bluestone slab steps were polished smooth and transparent by the soles of the feet. The shepherd boy crossed the bridge, and his body was illuminated, like poetry, like words, like songs, and like paintings.
In the old days, the Confucian squires voluntarily formed the Xizi Society and the Jingzi Society, respected Kong Shangdao, and asked people to cherish the word paper. According to the "Jisheng in the Age of Emperor Jingjing", on the Christmas Day of Emperor Wenchang in early February, the literati performed worship and held an incense party of "Respecting The Letter Paper", and performed tributes and performances at the Wenchang Ancestral Hall, Jingzhong Temple, Pear Garden Hall or provincial guild halls, gathering thousands of people at every turn. This is true in the north, and in the south, where people are hired to periodically collect scraps of old paper scraps and burn them, and the embers are thrown into the rivers. The ancient wind has lasted for hundreds of years, rain or shine. Ling Mengchu had a poem that specifically praised: "The words and papers of the world are the same as the scriptures, and those who see it must be in the fire." Or place in a place where the long stream is pure, and the natural blessing is eternal. "In his book of words, those who cherish the writing paper will enjoy peace, blessings, and descendants.
In the story in "The Surprise of the Second Moment Shooting", someone in the Song Dynasty picked up the word paper abandoned on the ground, and when it was left in the dung, he also managed to take it out, washed and dried it and then incinerated, and the behavior did not change for many years. The wife had a wife who was about to give birth, and dreamed that The sage Kong commanded: "Cherish the writing paper, the yin gong is very great... Sent disciples to join the Ru family. "Sure enough, he was born with a son, and he felt the words in his dreams, and he named him Wang Zeng, and later Lianzhong Sanyuan, who was known as the Prime Minister of The Yuan, and the Duke of Fengyi. The legend also says that a guest dreams of scientific research, some people filial piety and friendship, widely practice words, accumulate more yin gong, and sure enough, they won. Some people who are fighting for good litigation and love to style and flow novels should be removed. The man woke up, one by one, and verified them all, as in the dream. The text is curious about strange things, superstitions, and many nonsense, but many of them are vigilant and kind, and have the purpose of persuading the world to educate.
Chinese believe that words are sacred and have a special psychology towards word paper. Yanjing old customs, dirty paper is almost the same as disrespecting the gods and Buddhas and not filial piety to parents. Cangjie created words, alarming the ghosts and gods of heaven and earth, only because words have spirits. In the past fishermen's custom, before going to sea, they went to a reading house, and asked the paper to be pressed on the bottom of the bilge of the ship, which was counted as a fixed needle for breaking the waves and sailing.
The Yan Family Training says that when reading the book of the saints, one should be serious and respectful. Therefore, the paper contains scriptures and the names of the sages, and they are never in a filthy place. The ancients exhorted the words and papers to do good deeds, so that people can keep the integrity and brightness of the pen. With regard to life, meritorious name, boudoir, marriage, and the like, we should be cautious and cautious, and we should be afraid of obscene words and songs and ridicule others with books and texts; we must not separate our flesh and bones, we must not enrich ourselves, we must not bully the young and the weak, and still less can we conspire to kill others, instigate people to complain, reverse right and wrong, and make people feel wronged. The home remedies for abortion of the lost child should not be engraved, otherwise they will harm their own life. Such "pity" is respect or non-stop, benevolence or righteousness, karma does not matter, and people are upright in the world, more upright, down-to-earth and stable.
Grandfather had a little ink on it, and there was a bamboo basket at the bottom of the table, and he put the waste paper with the written words into a ball and put it into it, and every ten and a half days and a half, he found a tree or burned it by the river, and visualized that all the dharma in the ash of the burned characters was related to the sentient beings of the earth. In my childhood memories, paper ashes floated in the sky or drifted away with the waves of the water, which caused a wave of reverie and made me understand that the people's gifts are dignified and solemn.
Grandfather said that in the old days, some people carried baskets, wrote the four characters of "Respect for the Word Paper", went to the countryside to visit the households, collected the word paper, and sent it to the town to burn it in the Xi Zi Pavilion. The ancestors built the Xizi Pavilion to educate their children and grandchildren to study hard and cherish the writing.
Xizi Pavilion is a brick and stone structure, shaped like a tower, three feet high, more than three feet high, five sides are false doors, and one side of the bottom floor has an arched hollow main door, which is dedicated to burning word paper to educate people. Two to three layers of solid structure, cornices and arches, with a variety of patterns. The pavilion was built during the Guangxu period of the Qing Dynasty, and when he was a child, he had several Guangxu Tongbao in hand, copper banknotes with letters on the face and flying dragons on his back. There are many copper coins in the homes of rural people, and the Kangxi and Qianlong dynasties have the most, with different sizes. Because the old man rubbed a pair of fingers, the coins were polished, and there was a cool and cold copper rust on the nose, which made people's brains new.
Through the long old street, the exit is the Xizi Pavilion, like an old pine, which is the Confucian style of ordinary rural grace and the elegant immortal appearance. The smoke and rain at the head of the pavilion dispersed and gathered, the green mountains outside the pavilion were yellow and green, the pavilion tip grew wild grass by itself, and the birds loved doves. Kuangda and Qingmu do not fall. More than a hundred years of time have penetrated the brick walls bit by bit, dappled with potholes, full of ancient meaning, and the longer they are strong. At the side of the pavilion, there are two red lanterns hanging under the eaves all year round, the wind and rain and the sun, the lanterns are somewhat old, lined with powder-like colors of the façade.
Although the people under the Xizi Pavilion have been cultivating for generations, they also have a heart of respect for the word paper. There are readers at home, and it is necessary to write a paper basket. The paper is kept clean and free from filth, and it must be put into the furnace and incinerated, and the ashes are buried deep or sent into the river. Some villagers do not know much of the written word, but they are deeply respected by human etiquette. At the intersection, the children secretly picked and ate them, and the owner was not annoyed. In autumn, when the melons and fruits are ripe, they will always send their neighbors to taste new ones.
The townspeople cherish the words and cherish the things, and the people in the village drama who go to the dharma field sing every word of the words are the feelings of pity for the things: "I can't bear the old cloth socks to help the bottomless, I can't bear to put a bucket on the chicken nest, I can't bear the three liters of glutinous rice under the bed, and I can't bear the nest of chickens I just hugged." ”
The ground is damp, the foundation of the house is made of bluestone blocks, green bricks are half a person high, and brushed with lime. Green bricks are rare, reluctant to use more, ordinary people build houses, all build adobe bricks on the top. The brick seam was smoothed out, and a groove was pressed along the seam. In the summer, the window is open, and in the winter, a thin white paper is pasted, and the smell of rice paste and white paper is slightly emitted on the window. Pine needles are piled under the eaves to set fire to rice. The split firewood is stacked neatly, and this mood is unique to the mountains.
There are often weeds under the pavilion, perilla, ears, hemp leaves, barnyards, and green vines that I don't know. The river under the pavilion has flowed for an unknown number of years, but the stone bridge is an old object of the late Qing Dynasty. Most of the old houses on the street have been lost in the dust of history, and the bridge and the pavilion interpret the cool and warm sigh in the sunrise and sunset.
The water flows fresh day by day, because under the ancient bridge, there is a faint layer of ancient meaning. The sunset spreads obliquely in the river, and the water surface reflects the yellow like straw. There are many stone bridges in our hometown, and in the summer, the bridge hole is our paradise. Pick a few banana leaves, make a bed on the floor, and spend a morning or midday afternoon doing nothing. On a moonlit night, the shadow of the bridge, the shadow of the moon, the shadow of the people, the shadow of the trees, and the light and shadow of the water are the most beautiful scenery. There are bridges that are often key points of transportation, and there are always a few shops. I went shopping with my mother, and timidly followed her, tugging at the hem of her clothes, glancing at the flowers and green things. The old hometown is called black ears.
The Pavilion is gray. In rainy weather, the pavilion is also gloomy, the grass tip is low, the leaves are low, and the thin vines on the pavilion are also hanging downward. The tile houses on the edge of the pavilion are dusty, and the corners of the walls are mottled with exposed dark blue bricks, and the bricks are sparsely covered with moss. Old-fashioned wooden doors, windows are also wooden, and the panes are smoky and black. In the old and the old, there is a condensation of ancient cold and poverty. Only the river is transparent, flowing tirelessly, lonely and lonely. When I think of it now, I am all gone, all have perished.
Xizi Pavilion is deeply wooded under the mountain, and the flowers are full of colors all year round, and the east wind and west wind rotate into four seasons. The countryside is full of greenery, there is no wind and sand, and the windows are bright and clean. When I was a teenager, I read two books under the window every day, drank a pot of tea, and occasionally sat idly with one or two villagers for thousands of years. Away from the downtown, get quiet and lively.
Those people's houses are close to each other, and chickens and dogs smell each other. The old houses are intricate, ranging from 100 houses to as few as dozens. Dozens of families live together in a clan. People flourished and began to move ancestral houses, and the rows of tile houses were poking obliquely and horizontally in a row of trees, and they were not regular, leaning east to west, sitting north and facing south, and built naturally. The road is sandy, with flowers and plants planted on both sides, surrounded by jagged trees and buildings of different old and new.
Most of the houses are built on the mountain, and the peaks are surrounded by backrests, which have good feng shui. There are many ponds in front of the door, mostly half-moon shaped. Houses are often decades old, with five-entry three-compartment quadrangles, two ends with hugging houses, and green brick Dewa horse head walls. There are also people living in centuries-old houses, dozens of families gathered together, the townspeople called Wanjialou, because there are many households, the houses were originally built by the families of the ten thousand surnames, so it was called this title.
Wanjialou later returned to the Wu family, where friends lived. His mother's dried radish was so delicious, for more than twenty years, I can't forget that kind of love. Winter overnight, the shadow of the night fog in the shadow of the old house, a few undelivered lights, dotted in between. In the morning, it was frosted, and I walked out, facing the cold, and the melons, fruits and vegetables were far away.
The ancients said that rejoicing in a man rejoiced, and so did the crows on the roof of his house. Dislike that man, and hate the fences of his house. My friend's mother was kind and kind, treating me like a parent, waiting under the hot water lamp every day. Wash and soak your feet, and the nearly foot-long rat probe on the roof beam shrinks its brain, as if it is humane and not boring. A few teenagers with hippie smiling faces, the best thing in the world, is the encounter of people, like plum blossoms stained with frost and snow, grass leaves condensed dew.
After the opening of spring, all kinds of flowers in the mountains under the Xizi Pavilion have bloomed, and it is common for porters to fold a wildflower on the small road and put it on the flat head, which contains three spring colors, and is auspicious and harmonious. The days are poor, born in the manger cattle pen, but also in the trough pen with green leaves and flowers.
Willow tips have the best flavor, and the silky tapestries are long and short, mixed with the thatch. The peach blossom thanked and looked a new green tree. The mountains are red and red, and the children hold them up as playthings. The thick cotton coat can be taken off, the grass and trees are glorious, and the face of the people is happy. The little woman put on a spring shirt, the cloth sleeves fluttered like the wind on the water, Shaohua shengji, is a branch of peach blossoms. Not only are the characters alive, but the front of the house is curved around a few fields, also like a swimming snake. The water inlet is closed, and the shallow water in the field looks like a mirror from a distance, reflecting the white clouds, reflecting the green of the mountains, and reflecting the green trees. There are mountains on the side of the field, not very tall, but green and inexplicable, from the green of the mountains to the foot of the ridge. The cuckoos began to chirp, one by one in the fields, from early morning to late afternoon. The breeze is gentle, it is the season of kite flying, and there are paper kites flying in the sky all day long, high and low.
Time passes, and the four seasons take turns. When the valley rain was clear, there were crops everywhere, a piece of emerald green, a piece of peace. The township peasants have long used earthen kiln bricks and tiles to build houses, saving a lot of firewood, and raising mountains and forests in a few years. There are often big trees in the countryside, and one person can't hold it, and Qing Lingling is happy. Folk customs say that there is a lot of firewood on the mountain, and there is wealth in the family, which is the prosperity of the Taiping.
The countryside is innocent, the flowers and plants are innocent, and the childhood heart is innocent. In the poem, "Pedestrians on the road want to break their souls", I did not like it, and I felt gloomy and low. Because he did not drink alcohol, he was also indifferent to "asking where the restaurant was, and the shepherd boy pointed to the apricot blossom village". After the main words, he sighed that "only after passing the Qingming Dynasty, I gradually felt hurt the spring twilight", and it was inevitable that I would be discouraged. Bai Juyi said it well, "Good wind and moon, clear night, Bi Brick Red Xuan Thorn Shi Jia", the swallows in front of Wang Xie Hall and the Green Brick Red Xuan, all entered the homes of ordinary people. Cheng Hao also wrote Qingming poems, "If the weather is good for Qingming, you may as well travel and not forget to return", which is easier to get close to than his works such as "Yi Chuan", "Jing Shuo", and "Testament".
During the Qingming Dynasty, there are always large rains in the south, and the misty filaments last for ten days and a half months, and the weather responds to the verses, every year. The moss marks in the corners of the walls are a few inches higher, and the scenery is even better when people look at the smoke cages in the distant trees in the rain. The rain drifted in the courtyard, in the pond, in the ridges, on the slopes, and on the faces of people, and it was finely crushed and cold. The river has risen somewhat, turbulence ravines, countless cobblestones in the water, the big ones are like vegetable pots, the small ones are like pebbles, and the small ones are like projectiles.
The earth is exuberant and the sky is clear. Sunny days, idyllic mountain and forest atmosphere. The heavens and the earth, the sun and the moon, the world is stable and clear, the spring sun and the new green on the water have a long meaning, and the sound of the water is endless, attracting people upward to good and far. Spring condenses in the red leaves and greenery, and the streams and ponds are filled with water, accumulating the power of nature. The weeds grew taller and taller, the dandelion pompoms fluttered with the wind, and the cabbage was old enough to blossom.
In the spring, the cattle are joyful, no longer chewing the dried rice in the shed, every morning full of fresh grass, drum belly and wide hooves from the front of the village to walk by, dashing and pottery, like a fairy thing. In the afternoon, a shepherd boy led it up the mountain, and the thatch of the mountain forest covered it, and the livestock was like a treasure, and once again its belly was round. The mountains are shady, and the grass is shallow and can lie down and sleep, or sit or hold a book and turn it around, unconsciously, the sun's shadow is tilted to the west.
There is a pond next to the old house, although there is no smoke and waves. Every afternoon, fishing in the shade of the trees, or sleeping in the grass, the breeze is intoxicating, and you forget about the mundane things. There is also an old well next to the house, sweet and long, drinkable and polyester. Grow loofahs, green peppers, eggplants, and cabbage in the open space outside the courtyard wall, and cool off under the melon and bean shed at night.
The stars are shining, the night is like water, and the dew on the leaves is sparkling. There are often green fireflies flying into the window, the fluorescent flickering in the house, and the moonlight illuminates the screen window, and a few strands of cold light pour into the room, reflecting the half-bed of poetry books.
The friend's tea house has a hanging scroll of "shame and a lot of money", painted by Qian Yunhe of Huzhou, the patriarchal Song Yuan, which has chen Laolian's penmanship, and is rich and elegant, and the content says that the Han people Liu pet things. Liu Pet was an innocent official, and would keep his duties too strictly, and the dogs under his rule would not bark at night, and the people would not see the officials. Later, the imperial court summoned him to be a master craftsman and take charge of the construction of the palace. Five or six old men from the mountains, all with white hair, came out of the valley of the evil and sent each of them a hundred dollars to bid farewell. Liu Yu insisted on not resigning, and each chose a coin to hide, comforting the respect of zhu Shu, and later generations called him "one dollar too conservative".
Grandfather was steady, low-minded, not rich, avoided the struggle and danger of life, and lived like a tree all his life, born in the deep mountains and grew up in the mountains, where he withered and decayed. Now the grave was covered with thatch, and the woods he had cared for before his death had turned back to protect him. At that time, the seedlings, with a thick waist, were already pines, and the land cultivated before they were born became tea gardens, but for decades, they even had vicissitudes.
People are middle-aged, have a short future, are unwilling, and often have a fierce temperament, but many people under the Xizi Pavilion have a serene face. The years are long, and through the world, they have tasted several autumn coolnesses. In winter, nest in the grass to bask in the sun, smooth the warmth of the heart, no matter how old is coming, there is no fear of life, no fear of death.
An old woman in the village, childless and childless, with her feet tied at an early age, known as a little foot girl, could not do farm work. Villagers took turns chopping wood to dry and pick it up to her home, and some people sent meat dishes salt rice sauce vinegar. This custom became the norm until the death of the little foot girl. The care of ordinary people, although there is only one meal and one vegetable, it is thin and long-flowing, warm and intimate.
My aunt and grandmother lived widows for many years, and my father's brothers and four nephews often sent some chai rice and carried them for miles on their shoulders. She was old, her hands and feet were not good, and she made meals that no one cared about. One year I passed by her house and apologetically left me for lunch, salted beans and dried radish, and a bowl of vegetables. I ate two bowls of rice in a row, and my grandmother was very happy, saying that my brother was the same back then. Her little brother is my grandfather, and the brother-sister friendship is different from the world. My brother died more than a decade ago, and my sister remembers the old days. My grandmother died in her eighties without illness, and did not bother others before she died.
My grandfather worked as a priest in the countryside, occasionally making paper ties, paper horses and paper palanquins, paper houses, and hanging on the pavilion where I slept all year round. Wake up in the morning, lie on your back in bed, and watch the paper horse quietly for a while. Sometimes the paper horse turned slightly, and when grandfather saw it, he would always say that the horse was leaving. In a few days, someone came to the house and took away the paper horse and paper palanquin. According to the custom in the countryside, when a person dies, a pair of sedan horses should be burned on the side of the road in front of the house to make it convenient for the deceased to travel. When burning a sedan horse, ask someone to write a deed of sale, which is for the death deed, and once signed, the buyer and seller cannot redeem it.
The White Crane Immortal, now a white horse and a flower palanquin, equipped with a food trough, water weeds, leather whips, saddles, and ruts, are sold to a certain old man who lives in a certain county, a certain village, a certain community, and a certain community for use by the underworld mount. The real price of nine thousand nine hundred nine Please do not block the Guanjin ferry port, the demons, immortals, and gods are not allowed to occupy it, and if anyone dares to seize it, the nine heavenly goddesses will be punished according to the law in front of the Hall of the Nine Heavenly Goddesses.
The caravan horse boys each have their own names, namely Noble, Laifu, Laifa, Laixi. There are also witnesses: the Prince of the East, the Queen Mother of the West, the Clairvoyant, and the Tailwind Ear. And there is a land on duty painting pledge. There is humor in folk simplicity, and humor is self-evident and solemn. The countrymen believe that in the underworld, after the death of relatives and friends, piles of paper money are burned to make the dead feel safe.
Standing under the eaves of the old house, you can see the big trees in the mouth of the water. Two old pines are longer than the crown and towering in the sky. One is mine and the other is from a neighbor. The tree in his house was later cut down and sold to others to make house beams. Shortly after the tree fell, the neighbor's son in his twenties fell ill. Several big laborers sent him to the county seat overnight, and at dawn he lay down on a stretcher and returned. The stretcher passed behind my house on the hill, and the white sheets passed through the green woods. The frame bearer hung his head in silence, and several crows kept chirping on the date tree in front of the door. Many people waved bamboo pens to drive away, and the crows did not leave, but flew around the old house. The man lay under the date tree, two big feet standing outside the sheets, motionless.
At night, the family went to help, and the funeral gongs and drums were mixed with the sparse sound of firecrackers, which was sad and miserable. Lying on the bed and turning over and sleeping badly, remembering the dead in the dead, rolling around wrapped in a thin quilt. That early summer night of childhood was long and dark.
Zhuangzi sang from the drum and pot, congratulating his wife on her death, saying that she was finally liberated, as if she had been released after completing her sentence. Zhuangzi was dying, and the disciples talked about funeral rites, saying that they would use a lot of things to accompany the funeral. Zhuangzi said: Heaven and earth are coffins, the sun and moon are even bibi, the stars can be described as pearls, and all things are buried, where can other things be used?
The disciple said: We are worried that crows and eagles will peck at Mr. Mister's body.
Zhuang Zihui: Abandoning the corpse on the ground is for crows and eagles to eat, and burying deep underground is for ants to eat. Why are you robbing the crow eagle of its food and giving it to the ants? How can it be so eccentric?
The townspeople are naturally not as open-minded as Zhuangzi, they feel that death cannot be the next reincarnation, there is goodwill, death is dead, life is alive, coming and going, no worries, like the wind of the field ridge without restraint. Some people have heavy hearts and calculate, people see it and just sigh, and few people are with him.
When the family grew old, they carried only clothes and bedding with them, and nothing else. Those people have never read "Zhuangzi", but they have obtained the Zhuangzi Law, and they know that the destiny of death and life is not from the hearts of the people, and they do not have to be born to be happy, and they do not have to die to be sad. As the skeleton in the book says: "Death, there is no king above, no subject to the bottom, and there is no matter of the four hours, and it is natural that heaven and earth are the spring and autumn, although the king in the south is happy, he cannot live it." "There is always some avenue in the folk mentality.
The countryside did not revere too many gods, and the sheshen couple nestled in a one-foot-high earth pit on the side of the road, and incense was not allowed all year round. A very small temple of five rampant stands on the convexity, and the mountain is named after it, and the farmers call it "five rampant bags". The five statues of five rampant nan wood carvings are song elder objects, one day missing, the villagers were annoyed, and several elderly people under the clan could only re-erect the wood as statues.
Every family under the Pavilion of The Word is revered by the ancestors, and the so-called death of people is greater. The Ping people attach great importance to worship, think far and wide, ask for a protector to be at ease, and also ask for the "steward" of the tomb mountain, saying that the stewardship will make the family prosperous. There are too many old graves in the mountains, nameless, nameless, nameless, and unmarked, a mound that is isolated and unrecognizable, and women, children, old and young take detours, and dare not be rude. In the second verse of the Qingming Dynasty, some people also went forward to burn a knife of incense paper. People live, experience endless sorrows and joys, bittersweet and bittersweet, and after death, they will forever enter the mountains and enter the earth for safety.
Going to the grave is a big deal. Bring a hoe to add a few pockets of soil to the grave and clean the ditch. Grandfather told us that when we kneel, we should look solemn and our clothes should be buttoned. He set an example for himself, and after three prostrations, he stood up straight and bowed on the prayer platform, as if in silent prayer, and then stood up and took two steps back before leaving the grave. When things are done with respect, with sincerity in the world, my grandfather said that he was like that since he was a child, from generation to generation, since ancient times. The so-called sacrifice is like being there, and the sacrifice of the gods is like the presence of the gods, and Confucius emphasized more on saying: "I do not sacrifice with the sacrifice, if I do not sacrifice." ”
Grandfather died, grandmother mourned like a bride widow, most of the year's soul was uncertain. When he was young, he did not understand the feelings of the old couple for decades, and he did not know how to die. Her grandmother was in the countryside all her life, she did not go out of the village for many years, and the county town had not been to several times, and her grandfather was her world of heaven and earth. For the next ten years, until her grandmother died, the heaviest thing in her heart was to give her grandfather a grave, she was an old-fashioned person, stubbornly adhering to the old custom of women not going to the grave. Every time we were sent back, with a worried face, we packed the sacrifices in advance, including meat, fish and wine, and bowls of rice, plus a number of fragrant paper firecrackers.
There is not much sadness in going to the grave, everyone knows that it is inevitable to die in life, and most of them can look down on life and death or even face life and death. Working in the countryside fields day by day, he has been committed to a low and narrow old house all year round, even if the house is bustling, the dust of the city also makes people's hearts dusty. When sweeping the grave, there is always a kind of detachment, there is a kind of boredom, there is a kind of caution to chase away, feel fresh.
When a person dies, not only does the flesh disappear, but time also disappears. At that time, I didn't know how to be sour and sweet, I didn't understand life and death, and I couldn't feel the sadness of life, but I knew that the time in the world slipped away inch by inch. When the rice was dried, my brother and I stood by the basket to prevent chickens and sparrows from stealing food. From morning to noon, the eaves are like sundials, the light and shadow of the tiles from the melon mound to the rice bed, an inch back, retreating under the eaves, the sun shadow gradually oblique, until the sun shines into the window, hitting the east wall.
Death is the disappearance of life, the darkness that does not understand the disappearance at that time. On the funeral, the two walls hung a picture of the Yan Luo Temple, and I didn't feel afraid. Some people got out of the oil pot, some people suffered countless swords, and some people were bloodily removed from the heart and liver and cut off the first level, just thinking that it was novel.
Now that he is getting older and understands the impermanence of life and death, no matter the hero Haojie and the wise man, he will inevitably die in the end, like a wisp of smoke. The Daoist priest surpassed the undead soul and recited the scripture: "True Sect Huizong Tang Taizong, at the end is a void." The King of Qin, the King of Han and the King of Chu, was born and died. Zeng Zi Yanzi and Mencius, which one did not die before he died. Looking at the world with the wind, the world will always grow. There are only thousand-year-old trees in the mountains, and it is rare for a hundred-year-old person in the world. "The time that passes by the horse, the iron hooves click, whether young or old, noble or low.
I don't know where to get used to it. After the death of the people under the Xizi Pavilion and before the first Qingming Festival after burial, a solemn ceremony will be made, commonly known as "doing Qingming", and soup and paper-cutting money will be steamed. The soup is like a ball, made of indica glutinous rice, and can also be mixed with some flour. After the soup is cooked, it is painted red and dyed green. Paper money is made of yellow, green and white paper, cut into a pagoda-like hanging bamboo pole, and inserted on the graveyard or cuo foundation. This wind still exists today.
When doing Qingming, the descendants of the direct lineage knelt on the ground and pulled up the hem of their clothes, and someone sprinkled them with a few handfuls of soup. Then the man stood on a high place and spread soup to the guests. The soup was rolling all over the mountain, and I could occasionally grab a few pieces in the hour, which felt rare. The soup is either boiled or roasted or steamed, and the flavor of the rice cake can be counted as a seasonal snack.
Every year in March and April, there are many public sacrifices for large households and surnames, ranging from dozens of people to hundreds. The crowd raised flags and played music, saluted in the ancestral hall, blew and beat the sacrifices in front of the graves of several distant ancestors in the clan, and then ate a meal. Nothing more than chicken, duck and fish meat, plus home seasonal vegetables.
In spring, the toon sprouts, pick some home, and mix it with sesame oil to nourish the stomach and spirits. The locust trees at the mouth of the village blossomed, were picked back, and egg whites were fried, and the amount of rice increased greatly. You can eat three or five yellow eels every year, and my grandfather ploughed the field and caught it and boiled soup. Serve in a tea bowl and scent in the mouth. Yellow eels are not rare, but they are seasonal in spring and summer. Once I was sick, my family didn't know where to find a home remedy, saying that the oil tree worm was effective, forcing me to eat three. The thing was hidden in the trunk of the oil tree, shaped like a silkworm, and there was no peculiar smell. It's just that the bugs are black and shiny, creeping and moving, and they can't help but panic and vomit.
Coinciding with the seasons, there are rules that are not available on weekdays. Lixia weighs, dragon boat dumplings, eat mung bean cake, Zhongyuan burn incense paper, Chongyang rice dumplings, Mid-Autumn Moon Cake, New Year ancestor worship, Qingming tomb. One year old is especially important for three festivals, the Dragon Boat Festival, the Mid-Autumn Festival, and the New Year. Needless to say, the excitement of the New Year is needless to say. There are also joys in the Dragon Boat Festival and Mid-Autumn Festival.
After the Dragon Boat Festival, the custom of eating zongzi has a long history. The ancients wrapped rice dumplings mostly with millet, the seeds are pale yellow, also called yellow rice, after cooking there is stickiness. Zongzi generally has four corners, three corners, and five corners, like a hat on the stage.
When I was a child, after the Dragon Boat Festival, the family would wrap some rice dumplings, wrap them in a red date, have a sweet meaning, and steam a few salted duck eggs, divide them into two or one and cut them into four, and lie on a white porcelain plate on all fours. It is strange to say that the salted duck eggs have to be so radiant, and the shelling and eating is not only less affectionate, but also seems to be worse. I don't like to eat rice dumplings, only its fragrance, that kind of fragrance is wanton and subtle and gentle. The old family wrapped the rice dumplings with the leaves of reeds, and picked a leaf in advance to wash and fold it, which was different from the ancients.
The ancients mostly wrapped rice dumplings with leaves. Rice is wrapped in leaves into a horn shape, called horn, and steamed with bamboo rice seals, called barrel dumplings. Barrel dumplings are convenient and fast, and in recent years, old men and women have often been sold in alleys. Rice dumplings are peeled off and eaten with long bamboo sticks, which taste fragrant, including the fragrance of green bamboo and glutinous rice, as well as the old atmosphere of the people under the Xizi Pavilion.
Every time I eat zongzi, I always think of my grandmother. The rice dumplings wrapped by my grandmother are unspeakably homely and simple, and I have never eaten them again.
The old custom of the Dragon Boat Festival is to hang wormwood on the door as usual, and my family just puts a bundle there at random every year. Some people cut wormwood into the shape of a sword, and all kinds of folk taboos have immortals attached to it, which is the solemnity of the world. This is true of the Dragon Boat Festival, and it is also true of the Mid-Autumn Festival. If it is a sunny day, in the moon, there is a table under the sparks, the family gathers around the hot air of the kettle, the moon cake is cut into a fan shape, it is a pleasant thing to have a snack, drink tea and chat.
Eating mooncakes only once a year, the golden dough, the finely crushed sesame seeds, and the rustling sound of chewing are all beautiful. What is even better is the red cardboard box embossed chang'e flying picture, the clothes fluttering, a golden full moon above, making people have many associations, and the happiness of fluttering. Carefully cut chang'e and stick it next to the mirror. Combing his hair and washing his face, Gu Ying made love to Chang'e while looking forward to it, implicating the beauty of the melon field years.
On paper, Chang'e is not old, one year when she came home and met in the old house, for more than twenty years, I was no longer me, she was still the same as she was. For more than twenty years, I have not eaten that kind of moon cake, as if it has disappeared, and I have not seen it on the market. I don't care about the taste, but I miss the days gone by, and I miss the cut mooncake on the painted red table.
Next to the old house there are plums, oranges, pears, plantains, and pomegranates. Pomegranates have never hung fruit, are landscape trees and feng shui trees. The most covetous laurel tree, a huge clump, can be seen from a distance. Climb up, the branches are scattered, scattered a few bird nests, and there are no holes. There are big trees, as few as hundreds of years, and there are thousands of years of ancient willows, the roots are circling, the branches and leaves are staggered, and new branches are issued in the spring, and after the summer, it is like a thick green cloud, covering a large piece of the sky. There are also herbs, and several branches of green vines snake up around the trees, becoming more and more green.
Begonia flowers bloom in the courtyard, attracting bees and butterflies, and also attracting several dragonflies. Spiders knotted in the patio, and two flying insects cast their webs on themselves. At the foot of the mountain came a village boy, a straw of wheat, and whistled at dusk. The sky was dark, it was raining again, and the misty filaments fell between the clothes, and I also saw the charm of the breeze and the bright moon. The green plum is still small, standing on the branches, with the afterscent of flowers, and the white velvet is bright. Cooking smoke rises from the fish scale tiles of the old house.
In front of the house and behind the house are all vegetable furrows, a new vein, peas are filled with pods, growing a green moon, picked back to cook, the flavor is great. Leeks are especially good, and there is a kind of tender sweetness. Once in the summer, the leeks are cloudy and heavy, and they are not as tender as they are in spring. The ancients said that vegetable food is the most victorious in spring leeks and autumn pineapples, which is the word of knowledge and experience. Leeks are scrambled or fried eggs, and there are spring delicacies. It is also good for stir-frying river prawns, salty and slightly sweet, and it is more than wings for a while. When I was a child, river prawns were precious and not easy to eat.
Looking at the day of meat and sighing, the mother made her own net pocket, sewed a few copper coins in the pocket, and entered the water to cling to the bottom of the water, taking advantage of the hand, more gains, nothing more than small fish and shrimp, but also enough to make people happy. On a summer evening, my mother took my brothers and me from the head of the creek to the end of the water to catch and forage for some food. River shrimp in the water, tentacles touching, bouncing freely. Fish and shrimp are as big as broad beans, small grains of rice, after roasting, put peppers and stir-fry, smack the beauty of the tongue, through the heart. Put down the dishes and chopsticks, feel that the future is far-reaching, and the room is auspicious and jubilant.
The creek in front of the door is clear, the sun shines down, the sand and gravel flash, and the bamboo shadow tree shadow also flashes. The river pond is a place of washing, the village women hammer up and down, the early morning pounding of clothes is endless. Three or five peach trees by the stream, when the flowers are in bloom, the shadows of flowers and shadows are reflected. There are falling red floating into the stream, the water flows and flowers, and the people are speechless for a while. In the summer, a few children avoid the eyeliner of the upper person, roll up their trouser legs and fish in the river to find fish and shrimp, and raise them in glass jars.
The small river flows gently with celery and a patch of leaf ferns. It is washed and fried in bacon oil, and the entrance is full of vitality, which is different from the taste of vegetables and vegetables in the garden. In the past, there were poor people who ate celery, felt delicious, and dedicated it to noble people to share. Nobles feel spicy, stinging in the mouth, miserable in the abdomen. When I heard this story as a child, I did not feel cold, and I felt the vastness and kindness and simplicity of the poor. This trend spanned two thousand years from the pre-Qin Dynasty to the present, without interruption.
Playing in Huizhou, there are old links hanging high on the pillars of the old ancestral hall of a clan, saying that it was made by the Qing people, the content is very good, and the words of the heart are said:
Cherishing clothes and food is not cherishing money but cherishing morality
Seeking fame and profit only requires oneself and not others
This couplet moved me, as if I saw the blue-gray figure of my grandfather who cherished the words and cherished things, and also seemed to see the faces of generations of rural elders, and it reminded me of my mother in the countryside, every time the meal was cooked, she always used pliers to take the hot charcoal under the stove and throw it into the pottery urn, sealed it with a wooden board, and the charcoal had to be extinguished, and it could be used for several buckets through the months, and it was used to burn a small stove in winter.
When being a child, where clothes or diets, the master always let us cherish, a grain of rice can not be bad, clothes, pants, shoes and socks should be more careful, can not be damaged at will. Grandfather said that if a person does not cherish food and clothing, he will damage the blessings and even fold his life. Folk mortals also got some Han Confucian style.
There were new customers in the house, and the neighbors talked and laughed and behaved politely. Mother was in the kitchen, and the sound of frying and frying resounded through the walls. A spoonful of oil will be added to the dish, oily and moving, as if it can see the shadow of a person. Although there is no taste of mountains and treasures, the stability of the village people in this world is also gorgeous and rich. Serve meals to guests, if the juniors or one-handed delivery, the master always has to be angry, reminded to use both hands. The guests should be full of rice, and the bowl has vegetables, almost to the tip of the nose. Rural fun pays attention to a full, full and full, water full tank, grain full warehouse, full bed, the fish and babies in the New Year painting, but also fat.
When you are young, you live frugally, less noisy, you can't talk too much, you are not allowed to pick and choose, and you eat slowly from your own face. Hold the rice bowl with your left hand, don't eat your own bowl and stare at the plate, and you can't put your hand in front of the elders. Sleep is not allowed to turn over, sit upright, and shake your legs will break the blessing. After a long time, I feel that less is better than more. In a lifetime, there are many sorrows, there are joys, and there will be no less sorrows, so it is good to enjoy a blessing gently and shallowly. A gentleman knows his destiny and is only punctual. Not a gentleman, but also to know how to follow the points and punctuality to conform to the nature of the destiny.
The villagers' dining room is mostly located outside the kitchen, and there is a table of eight immortals and four stools in the house. The table was old, the paint had fallen off, but fortunately it was still firm and stable. Some people's water tanks cracked and were tied with iron ropes. The days are long, the rust is spotted, the water is wet and rusty, like mulberry leaves like a map. The surface of the water tank is floating with a gourd scoop, or open or covered, glowing bronze. Scoop half a scoop of water from the tank, look up and drink, the water line into the throat is cool and fast, it is a refreshing mountain spring.
Farmers have come to work hard, going up the mountain to cut firewood, planting rice in the fields, sowing seeds in the spring and harvesting in the autumn. The fields are planted with corn, vegetables, wheat, and sweet potatoes in chronological order, and the year is busy until the end of the year, and it is reluctant to spend a lot of time eating.
In the countryside, food seems to be a matter of afterthought. The woman returned from her work in the fields, covered in dust and grass. After feeding the livestock and washing the laundry, I have time to go into the kitchen. Three meals a day do not see the taste of mountains and treasures of the sea, but the vegetarian day is not rice, various vegetables and poultry. The coarse porcelain plate or sea bowl contains bamboo shoots, green onions, cabbage, peas, eggplant, cucumbers, turnips, winter melons, vermicelli, and lentils every year. Only during the Spring Festival do fish, cut into pieces, or a whole strip, head and tail full. There are fish every year, silver carp, carp, crucian carp or grass carp. There is bacon in the meal, the rice at the bottom of the pot will also be cooked full, and the rice side is full of vegetables and vegetables, stewed yellow, not greedy and ugly.
Sunset rests, farming sweats, no days of idleness a year. The family or neighbors made rice cakes, rice cakes, sprouts, rice dumplings, mooncakes, bean flour and the like, although it was common things, my mother ordered that the plates or baskets woven with rattan be used to pack and share food with people.
In the moonlight, under the stars, in the darkness, holding the fragrant food and gently tapping the firewood. Door to door, people opened the door, full of surprises, while saying more gifts and courtesies, too affectionate, called Xiao'er from the kitchen to change the bowl to take over. Carrying the air back, all the way to the fast pace, the stars and moon evening wind grass and wood insects seem to be smiling. The joy of giving people is like a mountain stream flowing water, echoing Yaran.
In the end, the nature of diet, landscapes and scenery is far less important than the food belly. Daily rice porridge snacks and even idle food have their own background, which shows the living customs of one party.
There are no three meals under the Pavilion, but it is good to be full. The most exquisite meal is only eight bowls, why only eight bowls? One is to take the auspicious meaning, and the other is to have an ancient meaning. There were eight treasures on the desk of the princes of the pre-Qin Dynasty, until the Song, Yuan, Ming, and Qing dynasties until the Republic of China, and each dynasty had eight treasures, and the preparation methods of ingredients were different from each other.
Shaanxi, Hunan, Jiangsu, Fujian, Guangdong and other places each have eight bowls of their hometown. In Gangnam once ate eight bowls, the locals called the head dish, also called chowder. Locally sourced ingredients, including fish skins, sea cucumbers, river prawns, bamboo shoot slices, fungus, lettuce, and stewed in broth. It tastes great. I have also eaten the eight bowls of Manchu, the eight bowls of halal, and the eight bowls of the Buyi ethnic group, and I feel that I have different feelings, which are different from the different styles of the Han family.
The eight bowls under the Xizi Pavilion are mostly on wedding and funeral celebrations. Whether it is a wedding or a funeral, the dishes are served on a red lacquer tray made of wood, and bowls are handed over to show solemnity. While the dish is being fresh, the person who serves the dishes conveniently takes back the leftover dishes on the table and sends them to the kitchen. A dish of two glasses of wine, braised pork, vegetables and pickles before the meal, a meal down, takes two hours. On those occasions, the adults were mostly helpers, and the empty people sat under the trees or talked and played cards in the open place of the rice bed.
Children can't really understand the joys and sorrows of the world, whether it is a wedding or a funeral, only drilling around in the crowd, sweating profusely. Tired and hungry, I found my own adult, sneaked into the kitchen to serve half a bowl of rice, scooped a few spoonfuls of vegetables from the pot, ate the sea and the sea piled up, put down the chopsticks, and jumped out of the door like crazy, which was another good trick.
The eight bowls are the main course of the banquet, and the customs of each village are different, the main ingredient is tofu, in addition to silver fish, shrimp, chicken, fish, tangyuan, pork, pork belly and heart and lungs. In addition, vermicelli and homemade vegetables and pickles from farmers are also added, which are called eating dishes by the townspeople. Cut the old tofu into thin strips and add the silver fish, mix them together to make a risotto. A few silver fish, taking the meaning of life surplus. Shrimp rice harmonic sound like honey, but also embellishment.
Silver fish shrimp rice is a precious thing, people also call the eight bowls of silver fish shrimp rice, the entrance has a full taste of oil, that is the cream of life when you were young, the memory is still abundant. Although it is a home-cooked dish, it has the rich and comfortable folk, and the dojo in the shell of the snail is bustling with operation. The dishes are placed in the kitchen, and the flowers are green, which is a scene full of gold and jade.
The most impressive of the eight bowls is the six grains. The townspeople call barley six grains, which is said to be outside the five grains. Barley is stewed with ribs or lean meat until it is thin and fragrant. When the next old man of the Nian clan passed away, I filled half a bowl of six grains and ate them outside the grass shed. The leaves of the jujube trees fell out, and the wind blew the dead branches back and forth, and they were cold and dry. The six grains in the bowl are sensual, and I ate half a bowl and added a spoonful. A buffalo in the grass shed looked at me like ink paintings, looked up several times and chewed dry grass, and saw no sorrow and joy.
Eight bowls of shiitake mushrooms, raw rot two dishes, not deeply impressed, the year's favorite is braised pork. The pork is square and square, huge like the back of the head of an axe, named after the shape, and the townspeople say that it is an axe brain block. The chopsticks of the diners ran to the clouds like the wind and soon saw the bottom of the bowl. The oily broth, the rice or the dip in a pot, has a good taste. Over the years, I have encountered several "axe brain blocks", the taste of meat has changed, and the taste of using soup to make rice is no longer the same as it used to taste.
According to the genealogy, the ancestor of the Hu clan served as a measuring official, and during the Song Dynasty, he came to the Xizi Pavilion, saw the Feng Shui Yi Room, and settled down. The tombs of the ancestors of the first generation are still there, and many generations have fallen on the hills, like grass and ashes. Several trees planted by my grandfather's hand either died or were diverted for other purposes. Only one osmanthus tree stood on the edge of the house, blown by the wind, and the sound of autumn also blew away a cold incense.
For many years, after returning from afar again and again, behind the wooden door of the old house, the familiar people were gone, and later the old house was gone. From the Song, Yuan, Ming, and Qing dynasties to the Republic of China, from generation to generation, the Hu clan people have been serving the people in the mountains and fields for generations, contributing to the work of migrant workers, planting in spring and harvesting in autumn.
From the entrance of the Xizi Pavilion, through the old street, there is a rice field path, and there are girls who want to meet her on the road. She passed by, speechless to each other. The afternoon wind, quiet, gently and quietly blowing the leaves makes a rustling sound. Sometimes I walk side by side, saying that I am shoulder to shoulder, and I will eventually slow down half a step. Quietly looking at her side face, the silhouette is exquisite and handsome, quite like a jade person carefully polished by skillful hands, crouching under her eyebrows, a pair of dark and clear eyes are like a bottomless flood of water, containing a faint haze. Her thin and thin body was like a kitten, the wind blew through her ears, the freshly cultivated fields emitted a fresh earthy smell that enveloped me, and the smell of some grass wafted into my nose and instantly wrapped me. At the beginning, the heart did not dare to break, a touch of private thoughts was leisurely and long, and it was like a fluttering kite, and finally broke the line and disappeared into the sky.
The reservedness and shyness of youth are the thin clouds on the high mountains, the subtle fragrance between the flowers and leaves. Sit on the light green turf, with your hands on the pillow, the book scattered to the side. The sky was blue and deep, the clouds were white like marshmallows, the wind was blowing, and the teenager was distracted. More fingers slip off than in the palms of your hands. The past has passed, only memories, and the years of that year have been lost and cannot be returned. Old friends when they were young, husband and wife as parents, each hardship, each happy, forgetting each other in the rivers and lakes.
The morning fog is thick, and there are only traces of green mountains, rivers, old houses, and ancient pavilions. The spring light is strong, the grass at the tip of the pavilion is green again, and the wildflowers are held high. After the heavy rain, the clouds suddenly opened, and the sun shone through the pavilion tip of the painting, obliquely cutting a touch of coolness. Xi Ziting watched silently. The people in the small village are born, old, sick and die, and they are orderly. Some are gone, some are coming. Xizi Pavilion is still Kangtai, the pavilion tip of the wild grass withered and green, green and withered, over and over again. Every family under the pavilion grew old in time, and year after year, the mountains changed their appearance and the rivers changed their appearance.
The wind outside the window was blowing, and the tea-brown pine needles fell all over the back mountain, and the dead leaves were xiaoxiao, and the mood was also xiaoxiao. The dead leaves are lonely, the mood is also lonely, and there is an autumn voice in the heart. The autumn wind blows through the tiles, and the sound of the fluttering is not the sound of autumn, but the mourning of things. The joke said: "You remember crossing the Qingxi Banli Bridge, and there is no old red plate." There are too few people in the autumn water, and the cold and clear light is left, and a willow tree is left to bend over. "The sunset is cold and clear on the western mountains, and the trees and grasses are polished. Countless times quietly sat quietly on the pond in front of the door to watch the light of the sunset, staining the mountain shadow red and brilliant.
The west mountain is like a pen holder. When there was a Feng Shui gentleman passing by in the Republic of China, he said that the door was opposite Beacon Mountain, and this place was a scribe. I studied diligently, thinking that I would answer that and become a scribe in the future. And it is really born with the heart of escape, going out is a mountain, passing through that mountain or a mountain, and the mountains block everything. Confucius said that he was the dog that lost his family, and at that time I was just a dust worm who lost his family.
Later, when I saw mountains like pen holders everywhere, and there were many victories in the country, I understood that this statement was nonsense, and Mr. Feng Shui just asked for a color head. There are too many karmic obstacles in life, and there is really no need to wear too many attachments.
Walking by the side of the Pavilion, the hustle and bustle is only in the distance. Nearby, the old bridge of the old house with wild vines and green trees, tall and large trees inhabited by birds, and the abandoned garden full of wild grasses. The twilight crow returns, the autumn swallow goes south, the wind passes over the top of the tower, the rain falls on the patio, the grass moves and the insects chirp... The four seasons change quietly. Daylight and night and moonlight illuminate the days under the Pavilion.
The road traveled by the predecessors, the mountain wind every year, the spring grass reborn, and the old traces of the past were swallowed up by inch by foot and meter by inch. It was snowing, the wilderness was piled with silver and jade, and the pavilion was white-headed. The traces of the human world were hidden in a white, and they suddenly returned to the past. The mountains are still the same, the water is still the same, and three or five sparrows jump on the branches, and the same is probably true of hundreds of thousands of tens of thousands of years ago.
The first time Liu Zongyuan's "Jiang Xue" was read in the small village's burrow, the scene during the Tang Dynasty was addictive. There are no birds in the mountains, and there are no people on the road. The old man wearing a hat on a lonely boat fished alone on the cold river. When Si Shi wanted to come, it was realistic and empty, like a life trick.
The stage staged Lu Zhi's deep affair. The flower monk drunkenly disturbed the mountain gate, damaged the monastery and the monks, and was sent elsewhere by the master to sing songs on the occasion of his farewell, saying that he came and went without concern. Human nature is empty, the rich and noble families are the same as the peddlers, born with nothing, after death can not take away a grain of dust, red strips come and go, in the gain and loss of see through, in the pick and put down between the liberation, the most afraid of worrying too much and too much bondage. The ancients said that a few acres of small gardens, a dilapidated hut, can shelter from the wind and frost. The eyelashes of snail horns and mosquitoes are enough to accommodate the body. The people's hearts were so open-minded.
Empty and mindless, empty and with me, it doesn't matter if there is nothing, it doesn't matter if there is nothing. At this point in life, what you gain is not gained, and what you lose is not lost. Eating, drinking tea, drinking, reading, writing, writing, rejoicing, suffering, ups and downs. Ups and downs and floats, is the scenery of the Changing Wharf of the Hedong River West. The Chinese article has a heavenly kingdom on earth, which is Tao Yuanming's illusory peach blossom garden, which is the Grand View Garden in "Dream of the Red Chamber". Living in the article, it is like walking into the sun, moon and stars. I'm excited to write a little article and dive into the world of words.
Those cold and deserted villages, self-indulgent and plain. The villagers do not know the prosperous scenery of the foreign ports, know and do not envy, and guard the small piece of heaven under the Xizi Pavilion to fend for themselves. Not to mention a hundred years of loneliness, reminiscing about the lost water years can not find the primer.
Life is in the world, the fate is different, the footprints are different. Some people vigorously do great things, and some people are ordinary and lonely all their lives, and they can't arouse half a wave. Regardless of success or failure, each of them is blessed with good fortune and misfortune, but they are just seeking a hot rice soup and ondol in the world. Some people make a drunken ear hot song night, some people live in a corner of the room with rough tea and light meals, and eventually they all go to nothingness, but they want nothing more than this body.
People in the Xizi Pavilion sowed beans and sowed seeds, and used the fields as their business. It was their peach blossom garden and the Grand View Garden. A stubble farmer has no desire for joy, sour, sweet, bitter and spicy taste, everything has a degree, and he can live a life. Follow the heavenly path, fertilize and irrigate, the harvest is good, the harvest is not good, and the next spring will be cultivated again. People have no delusions and no appearances, they will not wake up without dreams, they will not wake up without complaining, they will not boast about their hearts, and they will have Buddha-nature and Taoism everywhere. This is true of the peasants, and it is also true of the countryside.
Autumn night over the stone bridge by the side of the Pavilion, a full moon in the river, bright and moist in the sky, do not know that it shines on the stream, the stream does not know that there is a moon shining, regardless of the flow. The stone bridge, the stream, and the bright moon did not know that I had passed.
This article was published in Contemporary Times, Issue 1, 2022
About the Author
Hu Zhufeng, born in 1984, vice chairman of the Anhui Writers Association, has published works such as "The Book of Snow Days", "The Spirit of Bamboo Jane", and "The Tone of the Republic of China". He has won the Sun Li Prose Award Biennial Award, the Zijin People's Literature Star Prose Award, and the Lin Yutang Prose Award.
Editor of this weChat issue: Liu Yujie
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