The newspaper published that friends in Chongqing were preparing to hold a commemoration of the twentieth anniversary of writing for Brother Laoshe, which was indeed a gratifying news. Because twenty years is not a short time, it is not easy for a person to continue to write, and I also want to write, -- more than ten years ago, maybe twenty years ago, but the beginning year, that is, the year of the end, in retrospect, only the emptiness of a person's life is sad after all.
When I was teaching at Shandong University in Qingdao, one day, he came to my dormitory and gave me a copy of the newly published "Old Cow Broken Car", and I said to him, "I like your "Camel Xiangzi", which seems to have not been printed at that time, and has just finished publishing "Cosmic Wind". He said, "I can only write there, and we can't write it down." Laughing, "giggling"—he's always been so angry.
When I first arrived in Qingdao, it was the autumn of twenty-five years, we met for the first time, in such a late autumn and early winter, first of all, friends who had lived in Qingdao for a long time invited us to dinner, and in the evening, in an old restaurant, the interior furnishings, like the Dongxing Building in Beiping. The impression he gave me was somewhat serious, but also a little bitter, and some worldly; when he accidentally and coldly rushed out a joke or two, not only did everyone roar, but he also laughed "giggling", which was a childlike innocence.
Since then, we have become familiar with each other, often eating restaurants with a few friends, drinking old wine, yellow, like the bamboo leaf green of Shaoxing, and there is a purple-black, bitter and slightly sweet taste. It is said that the same raw material as the old wine, so it is called bitter old wine, the taste is very good, not under the Shaoxing wine. Until now, when I think of Lao She Brother, I think of bitter old wine. One evening, the weather was hazy, although the north wind was not large, but it was about to snow, Lao She suddenly came and said that there was a newly opened small restaurant selling stewed lamb in Beiping, so I walked on the road with the two brothers of ShiSun Zhongchun, I privately admired Lao She's leather horse coat, it did look ok, almost to the leather robe, I saw the author of the new Yuan History in Beiping Zhongshan Park, the eighty-year-old Weng wore such a long coat, and he had to be considered the second one.
At that time he was specialized in writing, he had a warm home, his wife gently took care of the children, and took care of him, let him write two thousand words a day quietly, and when he put the pen away, he always took his little daughter with him, walking under the plane tree with big leaves on the road, and at the turn of spring and summer, it was easiest to meet them. It was as if he was going to Shandong University to enter the city, turn a corner, and walk for three or four minutes, that is, the road adjacent to his home, his hair was trimmed, he was wearing a light gray suit, holding a small child in one hand, and from a distance he looked a little clear, but he was not weak, - it turned out that every morning, he always had to practice a set of martial arts, and there was a bunch of guys walking in the corridor of his house, and I knew one of the javelins wearing red ribbons.
On July 1, 266, I left Qingdao for Beiping, and then the July 7 Incident, in the middle of August, I took a sea boat from Tianjin to Jinan, met my classmates from Shandong University at the station, and knew that my friends in Qingdao had dispersed. Later, when he returned to his hometown, he occasionally learned from the newspaper that the old brother came to Hankou and was preparing for the literary and art association with many old friends. I entered Sichuan in the autumn of the following year, living in Baisha, when did the old brother come to Chongqing, I don't know, but soon received a letter from him, asking me to attend mr. Lu Xun's second anniversary celebration report, when I arrived in Chongqing on the evening, it coincided with a pathologist taking a bottle of authentic Moutai wine; the three of us drank at the × City Restaurant. A few days later, he drank Shaoxing wine with a few friends again, and Brother He Rong seemed to drink until he was dying, but he was not allowed to drink it again. At this meeting, I learned that his wife and children were still in Beiping. Wuhan University asked him to teach, but he did not go, he did not want to seek personal comfort, he wanted to support the "Literary Association" with a few friends, but he was no longer the old she in Qingdao, he was really clean, old, and the striations on his face were more profound. In the spring of the thirtieth year, I went to Chongqing with my brother Jiangong, and to his surprise, he was so happy that he "went bankrupt and invited guests." Although he looked more old-fashioned, with more deeply depressed stripes on his face, his clothes were greatly expanded, and he was suffering from anemia, a doctor was obligated to give him injections. However, his spirit is pleasant, he still has to support the "Literary Association" with a few friends, just look at the small note he sent me, you know, copy it in the back:
Watching children write, the most interesting, backwards painting backwards, faithful creation, happy to go, adding and subtracting strokes, unprecedented, self-contained, to the black eyebrows, ink spots full of body, but also have a dripping cause.
For the poetry to use words, or to use vernacular, the language is wonderful to become poetry, why quarrel.
The following inscription reads: "Jing Nong brother came to Chongqing, drunk thesis to say words, write this as evidence." ”
After that, we didn't see each other for another three years. During these three years, it is not easy to live, my personal changes are not many, the old brother has changed a lot, I heard that my wife came from Beiping with a child, there should be some comfort, but I have suffered from a cecalitis. Can you drink a few more glasses of liquor? This is a noteworthy thing, because since the war, friends have often been unable to drink alcohol for the sake of decay; as for the poor who cannot afford to drink, that is another matter. Then again, on the twentieth anniversary of brother Lao She's writing, I actually said a drinking word, quite like deliberately eliminating the faults of others, not to care about congratulations, love whistleblowing, and the morale of alcoholics. What can be done about this? I'm not a writer, I just have to say something irrelevant. If it is not too late to make a wish now, it is better to learn to write, but can The old brother write a book like "Camel Xiangzi" when he commemorates the spring?
