In the western part of Hainan Island, there is both the hustle and bustle of "half a rutted horse track" and the dreamlike landscape paintings, including a river called the Zhubi River that runs day and night.
On windless days, casuarina on both sides of the Zhubi River is like a scene of oil painting, standing quietly in the frame, quiet and full of ritual. The tone of its surroundings is generally blue: the sky, the coast, the rivers, the jungle seem to be deeply infected by this color, and the heavens and the earth appear to be both vast and distant. I wandered over the shore, feeling like I was alone. After I have experienced many great rivers outside the island, and then look back at the Zhubi River, the layering and primitive nature of the river in my hometown still hold my heart tightly. Its long flow, with the extension of personal mood, crosses the hills and ravines in the territory of Baisha and the sparse Danzhou, reaches the Changjiang River, which "travels to the end of the water, sits and watches the clouds rise", until it joins the vast Beibu Bay. I would like to trace the rhyme it generates with my heart, including imagining it from a distance.
"I live at the head of the Yangtze River, and the king lives at the tail of the Yangtze River," was the phrase of Li Zhiyi, Su Shi's aide. In reality, the Zhubi River is precisely between the head and tail of the sea, and it is on both sides of the river, and it really achieves an enviable equal division. When I was a child, I still saw people chopping firewood and feeding horses by the river, and I guessed that he would never step on a horse to do a vigorous career, but it was likely that when the sun was three, he would start to lift the net ashore, and then build a campfire in Jianggan to bury the pot to make rice, and then get drunk and sing. As the sun rises, the Zhubi River slowly becomes as meaningful as Heidegger's "Being and Time": the river pushes and shoves the quicksand, the quicksand spreads on the riverbank, and the casuarina on the riverbank grows old day by day. Decades of meditation have allowed me to see an island from a grain of sand, a house from an island, flowers and plants, hurricanes and distant sails. My ancestor Deyu Gong, who stood at the end of the world and looked at the emperor from afar, his loneliness and loneliness slowly passed away with the geese returning to the north. After the defeat of Yashan, the escort general Lu Hao came with a car and came with a car, and the southern Song Dynasty's clothes scattered like smoke clouds, and the so-called peace of mind was my hometown, and the king did not see it, and the meritorious name of the first generation could be paid for. The dappled memories of the Ming Dynasty magistrate Wang Xianyou Enrongfang, the remnants of Deng Yinggong's monument, and the Qianlong Sacred Will, which is still in the writing of Jingbiao Huairou, seem to tell people what happened on the banks of the Zhubi River, or what was annihilated. The figure of the plant taxonomist Zhong Yi and his younger brother collecting medicines on the banks of the river became somewhat blurred with his immortal death. But the dignified little banner given to him by his close friend Professor Lin Ying is still hanging in his study...
"Thousands of miles of horizontal color, several peaks out of the clouds" pulled me out of the simple verse, showing the Tang people's distant and indifferent literary thoughts. The picture in front of you is a group of egrets flying from somewhere on the island, landing on the sandbar of the Zhubi River, falling on the mangrove forest, the rivers, villages, roads, and people are all integrated into the natural and thick background, and the birds are always returning, just like the elderly relatives who hoe walk through every ordinary morning and dusk. A river is flowing unhurriedly, darkness lurks in the river, and the light and shadow on the river surface float and sink. When people reach middle age, looking back at the countryside when they were teenagers, they have gradually lost, and sometimes I can't help but ask myself softly, is this a pity? Once the vicissitudes of the sea, the difficulty is not only water, flowers, birds, insects, fish, spring trees and autumn mountains, every time the situation is overwhelming. The scene of my father carrying me across the Zhubi River to the sea to read on my back was like a song, which has been quietly chanted in my heart, even if life carries the tiredness of wearing stars and wearing the moon, I never dare to forget it. To be fair, although there are not many outstanding people who have come out from the banks of the river, and the years have given people too much decadence, how can they forget this kindness when they live in Sijiangtou and drink the water of Sijiang every day. After many years, the villages, hills and clouds on the riverbank are still frequently reflected in my dreams, the "luan dancing snake frightening state" when the river flows, the charm of "delicate like the end of the world in the first moon" when the water comes out, the enlightenment given to my life is eternal, it is like a source of pulse in my heart, ups and downs, and then hit the stone splash jade, from time to time to attract the mountains and valleys, until it flows into the sea. People living on both sides of the strait witnessed all this day after day, experiencing the morning and dusk hitting the water, the empty window to the moon, the boat crossing the river and the wind sweeping the trees, and the waves in their hearts really did not know how many weights there were! Ordinary people's life and death marriages, harvesting and going back and forth, visiting relatives and friends, and traveling to study must all wade through the water or take a boat through the Zhubi River. From time to time, the cheerful tune of the Danzhou people was heard on the river, conveying the joys and sorrows of the people on both sides of the strait and flowing with the strong human touch of the hometown. Remembering that Danzhou raised a person Zhang Ji and sang his classic love song "Obsessed with Keeping five more", the Danzhou people were drunk, and the whole of Hainan was also drunk. At that time, Zhang Yuesong and Zhang Ji were both Qing Jiaqing people, and Zhang Yuesong's calligraphy of Zhang Ji was as precious as Gongbi, which can be seen from Zhang Ji's extraordinary talent. Zhang Ji is the "god of song" of Danzhou people, and local women, children, and children will sing the mountain songs he created. His songs are like gushing rivers, nourishing the people on both sides of the Zhubi River. In addition, the Zhubijiang Poetry Society established in recent years has attracted poetry, and poets on both sides of danzhou and changjiang often sing and sing harmony, and the folk have many elegant rhymes.
Sometimes the days are uneventful, but sometimes they are magnificent. Zhubijiang is like a large pen dipped in ink, swinging in different postures in spring, summer, autumn and winter, drawing a rainbow-like momentum in the western part of Hainan. Ever since the frost-stained old man withdrew from the jianghu, the memory of an entire generation has become intermittent; ever since Rikou Dazuo occupied the head of the sea and wantonly beheaded by the people, the grandeur of the nation has filled the world. In order to avoid greater damage in retaliation from the Japanese, my great-great-grandfather led the devils in the opposite direction, and was eventually brutally killed by the devils who were angry and planned to slaughter the village. My great-uncle still had tears in his eyes when he told me about this history. Finally, he told me that in order to thank the whole village for saving lives, they also erected a "thank you monument" at the place where my great-grandfather was killed. The Zhubi River is a bloody river that remembers the ups and downs of the past, and the people will always remember it.