His story begins after the New Year of the Chenghua years.
It was the sixteenth day of the first month, the bustle of the dragon lanterns last night had not yet dissipated, the spring league on the lintel was still bright, and at noon, an old and sleepy scholar came from the crooked path outside Xuejiaji Village.
He wears an old felt hat, a yuan-colored silk old straight jacket, a pair of old red silk shoes at his feet, a pair of white beards, and looks black, thin and old. He had probably walked a long way, and there were fine beads of sweat on his forehead, and when he raised his hand to wipe the sweat, he unexpectedly revealed his right sleeve, which was already worn.
He came to Shen Xiangfu's house, and the simple villagers prepared a table of chicken, duck and fish meat for him to pick up the wind, and specially invited Mei Jiu, who had just passed the examination in the village, to accompany him. Helplessly, this Mei Jiu was high-spirited, where was this old and shabby student in his eyes? At this meal, he ate restlessly and suffered a lot of sneering.
His name is Zhou Jin, this year is more than sixty years old, on the road to the imperial examination for a year and a year, is still an old boy, even his students have passed the exam, he still has not "entered the school."
Although the exam failed all the way, life went on. His students in the city could no longer teach, because the status of the family was already higher than his, and he could only teach the children in the countryside instead.
He lived in the Village Guanyin Nunnery and taught the mischievous children who were seven long and eight short, exhausting his seriousness and patience.
In the spring, he came to the river to see the scenery in his spare time: when the sky was clear, he saw a few peach blossom willow trees, red, red, green and green, and the intermingling was beautiful; in the drizzle, he saw the smoke cage distant trees, the flowers and willows were hazy, and the scenery was even more beautiful.
He was a vegetarian and lived a hard life. The daily meal is steamed buns, old vegetable leaves and "a pot of hot water". Occasionally, the parents of students send some "gluten, dried tofu, fire" or something, which is to improve their lives.
In this year of Xue Jiaji, in the face of the people around him, whether it was a scholar with a higher reputation than himself, or an ordinary villager, or even a monk in the nunnery, his posture was humble and humble, and his gesture was polite and flattering. However, in the winter, he still can't get by.
He was too honest and too wooden to flatter the powerful Xia Zongjia or please his students' parents, who dismissed him as soon as they gave a speech.
No one came to teach him anymore, and Zhou Jin, who had been poor all his life, was almost without food and clothing in his old age.
Fortunately, when the brother-in-law of the small businessman, Jin Youyu, helped him, he persuaded him to give up studying and take him with him to the provincial city to do business. In the provincial city, he saw the Gongyuan for the first time, remembering his decades of hardship and pain, decades of white eyes, only to feel that there was no longer any interest.
He slammed his head into the number board, then rolled all over the ground, howling and crying, only to cry until his mouth spat out blood.
The pain of his cone attracted great sympathy from the merchants, who made up money to donate inmates for him, and were able to cross the county examination and directly take the township examination.
In the autumn, he finally stepped into the provincial city tribute courtyard, wrote seven articles in one go, and then won in one fell swoop.
Another winter came, and the depressed poor Ru of that year was transformed into Zhou, who was the chief examiner, came to Guangdong. At this time, his body was already a "silk robe belt", and when he looked down, he felt incomparably brilliant and proud.
He is no longer the poor scholar who used to be a non-committal man, he has a large number of followers and a majestic manner. When a student asked him to test his poetry and song talents, he said with a straight face: "When today's son is heavy on articles, why should he talk about the Han and Tang Dynasties?" "Taught the boy a harsh lesson and drove him out...
Later, he was promoted to the post of Guozi Supervisor, a serious high-ranking official in the capital.
He never returned to the Xue Family Collection that made him sad, but he had become a legend in the Xue Family Collection. Mei Jiu, who had once mocked him, pretended to be his student, and in the Guanyin Nunnery where he taught, he seemed to offer his Immortal Tablet...
Compared with the grand narrative of "Dream of the Red Chamber", which realistically reproduces the details of life and witnesses the slow years day after day, "The History of Ru Lin" adopts a thick line depiction. It takes the character as the center, intercepts the most dramatic and wonderful passages of his life, and often summarizes a person's life in a few strokes, such as the spring, summer, autumn and winter of Zhou Jin's later years, and the food, clothing, shelter and transportation of the most depressed years.
This is the life of Zhou Jin, a Ming Dynasty man, and the back of thousands of ordinary readers for thousands of years. They are humble, they are silent; they are hard and tenacious day after day, and they watch the spring breeze year after year.
Zhou Jin's counterattack is just an accidental legend, and more people are always stumbling in the fall. The years have washed away their passions, and the wind and dust have worn away their lofty pride, so they have become condescending, cowardly, cramped, and so on, and their posture is ridiculous and lamentable.
Sometimes, they confess their fate, just to make a living; sometimes, a thought breeds, but they are not willing, because there are still dreams in their hearts. It was the years from green onions to whiteheads, it was a lonely and lonely spring, summer, autumn and winter, how much cold and sad, how much poverty and despair, who knows?
This is the life of a reader, wordless tears...