Author: Tang Tao Recitation: Wang Hui
Once I was talking to a friend about the story of the bridge.
"Bridge?" He lifted the glasses on the bridge of his nose with the index finger of his right hand, then tilted his head to look at me, "How many bridges have you seen?" ”
How many bridges? This sentence made a pimple in my stomach, who had counted the bridges he saw one by one! It's just that I did go through a lot: stone and wood, iron and cement, rural and urban.
My friend laughed out loud. "You dreamer," he said with a smile, "you have never seen a pontoon bridge on the march of the great river, nor have you tried the rope bridge between the cliffs, so you will talk about this again!" ”
I didn't answer him because I thought of the bridge. First of all, I think of a famous bridge in ancient times, saying that it is famous but it is really nameless, and many people mention it, and your heart may have it in your eyes, but it has no special name. This is a small wooden bridge, maintaining the same style and mood for thousands of years, with simple railings on both sides, so that passers-by can look at it from afar, the water flows from under their feet, the road climbs from the back of the mountain, to this intersection, the latter finally stopped, it is this small wooden bridge that carries it across the creek and connects to the opposite green grass bank; the road, and runs far to the end of the world. Here the willows are green, the sunset sends away the crows, along the high hill, three or three two are some people's homes near the water.
You said that there may be a high priest in these huts who came here to live in seclusion away from the chaotic world, and I don't understand why you have such thoughts. Or is this the reason that young people are precocious and a little old, so they are tired of listening to killing. It's not far from the world. But you did give birth seventeen hundred years late. Seventeen hundred years ago, there was a high priest on this post, ploughing the fields and reading, idly hugging his knees and groaning, and the hero avoided the ground, and there was nothing but a precious source.
This winter, some people looked after Maolu three times, thanked their confidants, and talked about each other overnight to drive away. What is touching is that the second time it was not encountered, and once it was snowing heavily. I want you to notice the bridge beneath your feet, the little wooden bridge, which carried a heavy white on that day. Suddenly it glowed in the heart of sorrow, and when the visitor heard the sound of hooves on the other side, the donkey-backed man lightly furred the warm hat, and the little Xi Nu who followed him came with a wine gourd and stepped on the snow, stopping his steps on the bridge.
Listen to this slowly raised "Father Liang Yin": "One night the north wind is cold, and the clouds are thick." The snow in the long sky drifts wildly, changing the old country and mountains. Looking up at it too vainly, it is suspected that it is a jade dragon dou. Scales flew all over the universe in an instant. Ride a donkey across the small bridge and sigh alone with plum blossoms. ”
The visitor rolled his saddle and dismounted, ran to the side of the bridge in three or two steps, and gave a deep blow to the donkey-backed man: "It is not easy for sir to brave the cold!" ”
But he pounced, because on the back of the donkey was Huang Chengyan.
Yes, I was also about to introduce you to Huang Chengyan, a kind, humble, and self-respecting old man. This time he stood on the bridge, watching the three horses go far, and then looked down at the stream, which was frozen, and a few peasant children tried to run over the shore from the ice. Huang Chengyan stared lonely, and the bottom of his tongue suppressed a sentence: "Without water, there is no bridge." "Snow fell on the bridge.
"One day the snow melts, the ice melts, and everything will return to its old ways." So he went to look at the bridge at his feet. A branch of water, the plum blossoms by the bridge opened and fell. "These three people are walking really fast!" Huang Chengyan raised his head and could no longer see their backs. Maybe that sentence is a little earlier.
Sixteen years later, the moderately guest soldiers defeated the White Emperor, Huang Chengyan appeared again in the Fish Belly Pu, the sun will sink to the west, the beach rises a burst of murderous gas, the river is turbulent, as if there are thousands of troops and horses coming from the mountains and the sea, he walked on the hillside, suddenly remembered the scenery by the small bridge, and could not help but sigh deeply: "These three people are walking really fast!" He had already heard the news of the burning of the camp, and at that time more than a dozen horsemen were running towards the beach. Looking from a high place, a cloud of black qi wrapped the pursuing soldiers, and the men and horses clashed in the darkness, and the students leading the soldiers were frightened and faceless. "It is clear that you have walked into the door of death," Huang Chengyan thought, and in the blink of an eye he moved his heart of compassion, "Poor victor, let the old man take you out of the gate of life." "Look back, General!" He pointed out the beach from the small bridge. What's there? There are only a few piles of rocks.
Slowly agree with my friend's laughter, I am not lobbying you for the impermanence of life! Whether from the perspective of scenery or actual personnel, I want to explain the meaning of a bridge. There is an end to the road, and there is an end to the encounters in the world, and I cannot tell you the thirst of the walker, when he seems to be wandering in the middle of nowhere. Crying bitterly, I was very touched by Nguyen's story, so as soon as I went out, I suddenly stopped. I said there was a shadow in the back of the ferryman's heart, and that was not a boat. bridge.
You guessed it. The bridge, like a long rainbow from afar, appears in the hearts of the thirsty, not only on the cape of the river, but also when you want to survive poverty, to tide over disaster, to tide over the misery and misfortune of war, you have to think about it. Maybe you still think of the bridge builders, who use their lives to pad the feet of the bridge, and they will fall into the bottom of the water forever and forever. The bridge, which represents change, symbolizes the leap, and is the embodiment of the aspirations of the forefathers! Alas, maybe I was really drunk by something, so please laugh!
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