<b>Wen | Zhan Enhua</b>
It was suffocatingly dark and the snow was falling endlessly. The Huiji Mountain, which is "a thousand rocks are beautiful, thousands of valleys are competing for the current, the grass and trees are caged on it, and the clouds are rejuvenating and the xiawei" has lost its former vigor and vitality, and the only thing presented to this world is the dead silence of the white mang.
In the twenty-fifth year of shaoxing in the Southern Song Dynasty (1155 AD), a heavy snow that had not been encountered in a hundred years fell viciously on the land of Jiangnan Water Town.
It was surprisingly cold, so cold that even the well water froze, so cold that it made people feel that the little warmth under the tongue was gone, and the mouth seemed to have ice ballast.
At the foot of The Huiji Mountain in Shaoxing, there is a small courtyard with a fence surrounded by three grass houses. The door of the thatched hut was tightly closed, like the dry mouth of an old man.
"Squeak—" The door opened slowly, hard to open. After a while, out of the door trembling came an old woman with white hair.
The old woman's hair was silver and her face was pale, as white as the snow that spread all over the sky, and there was not a trace of blood in sight. Although the face is pure, it still conceals the nobility in the bones and the loftiness of the soul. The eyes were large, but very dark, like a candle about to be extinguished, flickering with a faint glimmer.
The cold air came over her face, and the old woman hit a stirring spirit.
When she came to the door, the old woman looked at the wax plum that was hung with snow but did not have a flower, and sighed in her heart: "Why doesn't this plum open?" ”
On crutches, she slowly approached the two neem trees she had planted herself and stared blankly at the silent swing hanging between them for a long time. This swing is her love, and seeing the swing reminds her of her youth. She reached out and grasped the cold rope with a trembling grip, sitting on the snow-covered pedal. The crutch slammed to the ground, propped it up hard, and the swing swung slightly.
The gentle swing seemed to give the old woman great satisfaction. She smiled, and her smile slowly covered her face like a ripple stirred up by dragonflies dotting the vicissitudes. As if with some sort of satisfaction, she smiled and closed her eyes.
Heavy snow passed before her eyes, and the soul spread its wings and flew out of her body to the summer of the northern country where flowers were blooming and bees were flying and butterflies were dancing: on the wide and quiet lake, a small boat rowed from the depths of the red lotus, and the laughter of a group of young girls startled a flock of gulls on the beach. The frightened birds flew to the blue sky studded with white clouds. Sunny days, dotted with white gulls, like the open, free and wonderful hearts of young girls.
Ripples of laughter froze on the old woman's face, a look of happiness and serenity. This old woman is no one else, she is Li Qingzhao, a generation of words that has walked alone and is unmatched by everyone!
Li Qingzhao, the "Great Sect of Words" who indulged in talent, almost occupied all the glory. She used to have everything, youth, love, affection, talent, romance, she had what others had, and she had what others didn't have. At this time, Li Qingzhao had no parents, no husband, no children, no relatives, no friends, no golden stones, no calligraphy and painting, no happiness of harmony, no hardships of displacement, and no pain of national destruction and family death. Today, she has no love, no hate, no poetry and far away, no thoughts and souls, nothing, not even that.
Heavy snow covered the mountains, covered the rivers, and covered the lonely, dead and lonely courtyards. The old woman condensed into a silver statue in the snow.
voiceless. No interest. Between heaven and earth, only the snow that was blowing endlessly fell endlessly.
Dead silence became the master of the whole world.
This world, in addition to dead silence or dead silence!
(The first from the right is the author of this article)
<b>About author:Zhan Enhua</b> is a member of Shandong Writers Association. He has published a number of works, including the collection of essays "The Watch of the Spiritual Homeland", "The Long Talk of Caolu", and "The Feast of Life"; the poetry collection "Pingyin Yinzan"; the long-form reportage "The Earth as a Guide", "The Witness of Qiangshan Mountain", and "Casting Dreams"; the reportage collection "Questioning the Earth"; and the long novel "The Old Affairs of Meizhuang". The novel "The Past Affair of Meizhuang" won the 8th "Literary and Art Quality Project" Award of Jinan City and the 9th "Literature and Art Quality Project" Award of Shandong Province. Long-form reportage "The Land is a Mirror" (co-authored) Shandong Province's Ninth "Literary and Art Excellence Project" Award.
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