Wandering alone in the mist of the SanshengShi River in Jiangnan, I was destined to carry the love to go through a long gray journey. Pain their own pain, loneliness their loneliness. Then, savor the sad happiness alone in the rainy twilight...
Wandering in a strange city, dozing off at night, the moonlight brushed the sky in lead, and the rain of the previous day splashed the moonlight on the ground. Before reading a passage about the loneliness of the dusk, the twisting dusk unintentionally looked back, but let me be trapped in loneliness, like one hand looking for the other hand of confusion... Holding a skinny bicycle, he paced along the river. A strange distance was stolen by the street lamp in front of him, and he repeated the wandering like a footstep, not knowing where to go, only to land a lonely silhouette on the five-line railing. In the distance, the shining construction site was still struggling, and there was a sound like the collapse of an ancient castle, which collapsed heavily in my heart. At this moment, I am still trying my best to control my thoughts about the past, because according to Ah Q's theory: with loneliness, I should not be lonely.
The sky had forgotten all about the moonlight of last night, and a light rain had accidentally fallen in the early morning, allowing a window of rain to block the way. Ben was lying in the house to cool down, but the rain had penetrated the cement wall and quietly soaked his heart. The memory has been retrograde for many years, stopped in the old streets and alleys of the countryside, sweet and sad...
The old streets and alleys are streets made of gravel roads, one end follows the distant town, and the other end winds into the deep mountains and dense forests. A small river crosses the street low from under the stone bridge, flowing delicately and densely all day long, trimming the edges of the past years. On weekdays, the birds in the streets and alleys are whispering, which is the tranquility of the countryside. On the market day, the rural sound is thick and pure, and it is a noisy scene.
Here, the rain is also the same, it seems to have easily moved to the plum season in Jiangnan, and from then on, with a frustrated face, it did not stop. And whenever you settle down so gently, the alley will always become a muddy section due to the dirt roads in all directions. Pedestrians are distressed, but they still return with mud-colored laughter. The old streets and alleys that have faded into black and white are soaked in the haze by the rising mist, and there seems to be an inexhaustible melancholy. Gradually, the dusk darkened with a low sky, and the yangqin rain gradually became clear, gently knocking on the green mud and black tiles on the eaves of the wall. At night, all the sounds converge into the rain, and the old streets and alleys seem to be full of stories.
Turning the pages of the old streets and alleys, a corner is filled with the afterscent of love...
The rain brought early spring in the south. Time stumbled, and all the budding sounds fell silent at dusk. The breeze was light and cold, quietly sweeping the fallen leaves around Wen Jing, and rolling to a corner with the squashed cans. A beautiful and poetic girl waits for Leng Ziling at the head of the quaint alley bridge. She liked him for no reason, just as he ignored her for no reason. But she also habitually stood there, standing on his way back and waiting, becoming a landscape. However, this time Leng Ziling had not yet passed through here. Time passed faintly, the cool breeze did not go to the winter cold, gently shaking the last trace of loneliness on the branches. The night gradually swallowed up everything around it, leaving only a clearing for the lights that ran aground over there. The sleeping alley seems unwilling to be soaked by the light, and it is a long and deep. At this time, the rain stepped on her feet, followed the mood, and poured out a sadness on her. The stone bridge also seems full of affection, looking at the melancholy of the flowing water bundles. From time to time, yellowed leaves swirl and float down, and there is no intention to follow the flowing water. The occasional barking of a dog evokes the infinite chill of loneliness. It's cold, and she's been waiting...
The drizzle night should have been romantic, but Leng Ziling had not yet arrived. It wasn't a drizzle this night, there wouldn't be two people who depended on each other, just a girl standing at the head of the bridge on a rainy night. The running water under the bridge is still listening, listening to the lonely sound of the rain. The thick emotions faded in the rain, and after the rain fell, it was still raining, and the sound of only whispering names was still floating in the misty alley...
When the secret passage of the soul is still soaked with the afterscent of love, I selfishly put away this unfinished story, because it has become a habit to recall it. And I have always been obsessed with Zhuang Zhou Mengdi's questions, asking myself, "I don't know if she waited for him, or he waited for her..." But it is certain that from before to now I have always loved her, just like the love for the old streets and alleys, with time seems to have faded like a float, but the inner essence is still that familiar face. The deep-rooted memories, bit by bit, make everything still the same as before, like the muddy countryside. And that love, too, seems so simple, so natural...
Although the parallel lines no longer intersect, they can still be acacia on the other side. I believe that in the future, in a season full of tea fragrance, I will still sit in a corner, taste the indescribable beauty, and be alone...