Introduction to Gefei

Ge Fei, male, is from Dantu, Jiangsu. He was admitted to the Chinese Department of East China Normal University in Shanghai on 1996. Doctor of literature. Now he is a professor and doctoral supervisor of Chinese Department of Tsinghua University. Mainly engaged in novel creation and literary research. Representative works include novels such as Peach Blossom Face and Dreams of Mountains and Rivers, short stories such as Lost Boat and Green Yellow, literary invitation and novel narrative research. As a well-known scholar in the field of contemporary cultural studies, Dr. Lin An has been gradually forgotten recently. Four years have passed and I haven't heard from him. As rumored by the outside world, the unfortunate marriage was an important reason for his final farewell to academia. The latest issue of Celebrity Magazine published a mourning article. The author claims that according to the information he has just received, Mr. Lin An is no longer alive. /kloc-0 died of cholera in Aksu, Xinjiang in June, 1993. It was not until this autumn that Dr. Lin An suddenly appeared in front of my apartment with a heavy bag that the above inference was proved to be nonsense. He passed through Shanghai on his way back from Zhangye to Changsha. Because of that irresponsible rumor and the estrangement that I haven't seen for years, it's not hard to imagine the unpleasantness and embarrassment when we meet. Great changes have taken place in the world over the years. While most people are busy accumulating money, others die voluntarily. Our conversation has been shrouded in depression and sadness. Dr. Lin An is not as talkative as before, and his passion and sense of humor seem to have dried up. We looked out of the window for a long time, watching the girls dressed up walking through the Woods to the cafeteria. The unbearable silence made us tired of each other.

As far as I can remember, although Mr. Lin An is rich in knowledge and interests, he is not a rigorous scholar. Most of his research methods are based on speculation and fantasy, and even contain some jokes. Lin An often sneers at the good atmosphere of paying attention to facts and logic gradually developed by academic circles in difficult exploration: "The naive desire to defend the truth is often the most reliable way to shallowness." Four years ago, he sent a long article about Li Bai's Shu Dao Nan to Academic Monthly, and has since disappeared. In this article, he concluded that Shu Dao Nan was a forgery. "It's just a sword score given to Li Bai by a master who lives in seclusion in Sichuan. The first sentence on the sword score is a strange trick." A female editor of Academic Monthly revealed obvious anxiety in her letter to me: "Your friend who is obsessed with computers must be crazy." Now, it seems that this article may just be a parody of Dr. Lin 'an's despair to the academic circles. However, Dr. Lin An was not isolated by the academic circles. He also brought an article about Wang's "Liangzhou Ci". He told me that his original intention of writing this paper was only to relieve loneliness, but he unexpectedly cured his insomnia. The style of the article is the same as his previous works, but the title is unbearable. If you delete branches, it seems to be called: Wang Zhihuan: Existentialist in the Middle Tang Dynasty. Old news "Pushkin said: Destruction is man's natural destiny, and I didn't understand the true meaning of this sentence until recently. "Dr. Lin An thus began his discussion and immediately mentioned an old story about Wang Zhihuan.

There used to be a two-story wooden and stone building in Yushu, about nine miles west of Wuwei City, Gansu Province. Now there is nothing in the desert except a pair of stone lions in front of the door and a post iron to tie the horse. This building is located on the only way to Dunhuang and Shandan Racecourse. This was originally an inn for past business travelers to spend the night. In the early years of Kaiyuan, with the tightening of the border war, a large number of border guards mobilized Wuwei from the mainland. This inn was once rented by the army. Finally, some wild frontier poets occupied the inn, bringing geisha, musicians and drunken fights. It seems that the end is coming. Since the emergence of poets and geisha in the world, these two kinds of people have a good impression on each other. However, this does not mean that poets and geisha in the isolated and sparsely populated desert beyond the Great Wall will not have disputes of one kind or another if they drink and have fun together. In order to prevent the frequent occurrence of bloodshed, a poet named Ye Ge invented a method to divide women after drinking. The specific procedure is also very simple: poets usually ride from the city at dusk, and then drink, write poems, chat and sing. When the moon rises in the desert, geisha come out from behind the screen in turn and begin to sing new poems written by poets. Geisha only sings the poet's works, and the poet has the right to spend the night with her. "This kind of ceremony is somewhat similar to the blind date that is popular in Britain now," explained Dr. Lin An. "It makes traditional prostitution more mysterious and has a strong cultural color." Wang Zhihuan has been a frequent visitor to this inn since he was demoted to Wuwei. Unfortunately, his poems have never been sung by geisha.

According to the analysis of later scholars, Wang was left out here. He is not liked by women except that he is "plain and indecisive". The most important reason is that his poems are not suitable for singing. That's true. It is really too much for a coquettish and vulgar geisha to sing loudly "The Yellow River is far above". But one thing that happened soon seemed completely unexpected. This matter obviously does not belong to the official records. In the Qing Dynasty, Shen Deqian occasionally touched on this ancient story in his book Tang Poetry, but the description was extremely inaccurate. That night, the poet's party was still held as usual. I just heard that there are several geisha poets in the inn, and the poet's mood is slightly excited. The first person who came out from behind the screen was a bloated local woman. Probably because of this person's rough appearance, the poet's eyes seem to be somewhat evasive and frightened, fearing to sing his own poems from her mouth. The girl glanced at it with small eyes like mung beans, and everyone finally fixed their eyes on Gao Shi. She sang a passage of Ge Yanxing. After a long sigh of relief, people looked at Gao Shi sympathetically. Gao Shi himself has different views on this. He whispered to Wang Zhihuan next door, "This girl is very cute. I like her hips." The next geisha is a thing of the past, although she looks good. She seems fascinated by Wang Changling's tall and handsome appearance. She once forced Wang Changling to marry her with a pair of scissors. Every time she appeared, she sang Wang Changling's poems, so the other poets had no wild ideas about her.

Sure enough, she sang the old song The Plug this time. Wang Changling looks a little disappointed, but still elegant. He smiled modestly: "Looking back" time passed quickly. Wang Zhihuan seems a little sleepy. At the end of the party, a woman suddenly flashed out from behind the screen. Her appearance immediately put Wang to sleep. There have been different opinions about the beauty of this woman. Some people call her "jade arm is clear and radiant", while others say "look around and sigh at the waves". In any case, these comments are consistent with one thing: her body has both the charm of a mature woman and the purity and freshness of a girl. She sang Wang's Liangzhou Ci. It seems that this dignified and handsome woman has not received basic music training. Her voice is harsh and childish and lacks control. An elderly pianist can only improvise and catch up with her beat in vain. Her eyes were full of tears, as if singing itself had brought her only unspeakable humiliation. "If someone insists on drinking a glass of poisoned wine, the best way is to drink it all at once," Lin An told me. "She finished the song impatiently, and her heart was mixed with hesitation, regret and decision to give up her wish quickly and then look at everyone blankly." After a short silence, people saw Wang Zhihuan dry cough twice, got up from his chair and walked to the geisha. The indifference on his face barely controlled his unbalanced body as usual. He didn't even look at her, as if this woman didn't exist, and hurried around the jars beside him and walked straight out.

In the desert in late autumn, the cold sand was blown away by the west wind and collided in the air with a bee-like buzz. By the light of the inn, he found Shandanma beside a row of collapsed fences. Then he began to cry. There was the sound of broken wine cans in the inn, and the geisha screamed in horror. "Now we know that this geisha is Wang's wife," Lin An said with pretended calmness. "It's a little incredible, but it's true after all. You know, at that time, the poets' parties held regularly in Yushu inn were no different from the popular pop songs in Hong Kong and Taiwan today. At that time, the arty cultural consumption of Wuwei was almost completely manipulated. Wang Zhihuan's wife usually stays at home, and her husband often stays out all night to make her guess. By chance, she learned from a Muslim who came to sell Lycium barbarum that everything had happened in Yushu Inn and her husband was left out in the cold, so she couldn't help worrying. Later, she slowly came up with a way. "It seems that this woman has a crazy hobby for the art of poetry," I told Lin 'an that it was just a hobby. And this hobby is just because her husband happens to be a poet. Women at that time were like this. If her husband is a dentist, she will inexplicably feel close to the pliers for tooth extraction. In fact, she knows almost nothing about poetry. When she was in Taiyuan, she questioned Wang Zhihuan's In the Lodge of Herons. According to her logic, but you have expanded your horizons by 300 miles, going up a flight of stairs is not enough. At least, she has to climb four or five floors at a time, because only in this way can she see further.

Wang Zhihuan can't convince her, how to explain it to her. Finally, he had to take his wife to the front of the mirage that was about to collapse. You see, this building has only three floors. Wang Zhihuan patiently explained,' I wrote this poem on the second floor. As soon as his voice fell, his wife smiled shyly, revealing a row of white teeth: I see. So this unfortunate thing happened only because of love. In my opinion, the so-called love is just a morbid madness. ""Maybe it's still a luxury. "I interjected." Indeed, "Lin An stood up and seemed ready to go to the toilet. "Wang Zhihuan's experience has gone far beyond the scope of tragedy. According to the prevailing view, this is absurd. Similar things abound in our time. " Lin An didn't come out in the toilet for a long time. I know our conversation is far from over. In the monotonous hum of refrigerator compressor, I saw Lin 'an's wife's sad face. I haven't seen her since she divorced Lin 'an. As we all know, Wang Zhihuan started his writing career at the age of thirteen or fourteen. Forty years later, he died of emphysema in Wen 'an County, and only six poems were handed down from generation to generation. Although these poems were later included in the Tang poetry, after textual research, four poems, such as Banquet Ci, were also forgeries, "It is incredible to replace trees with flowers". Therefore, to be precise, there are only two poems left by Wang Zhihuan to future generations, namely "Liangzhou Ci" and "In the Heron Building". Dr. Lin An told me that when he was in Zhangye and Wuwei, he read the Woodcut Biography of Ten Talents in Tang Dynasty written by Li in a private library.

The author's date of birth and death cannot be verified. There are also many mistakes in the popular quotation of his realm, but it implies all the secrets of Wang's poems lost in a very unconfident style. According to Li's explanation, Wang Zhihuan, who was ill in bed for several months, realized that his days were running out. On a rainy night, he burned all his poems, copied "Liangzhou Ci" and "In Lusu" on two fans respectively, and presented them to his servants who had followed him for many years as commemorative watches. As for the cause of Wang's self-immolation, Li thought it was an adventure that Wang longed for immortality. He went on to make a symbolic explanation: if there are only a pair of priceless vases left in the world, you won't lose anything by breaking one of them, but the value of the other will double in an instant. "It is not difficult to prove the absurdity and shallowness of this description." Dr. Lin An became indignant when talking about this matter. "We know that Wang Zhihuan was extremely cautious about publishing his poems, even if he gave a confidant beauty, he was often very stingy. This quirk directly led to his relationship with Gao Shi and Wang Changling. If Wang Zhihuan is really as successful as Li said, then his current position is no longer under Li He. " In this paper, Dr. Lin An used a long space to describe the stormy night many years ago, and his writing was full of vigor and sadness. But I don't know how true his description is. When I noticed his rotten cheeks and white hair on his forehead, I knew that in fact I had no right to ask him such a question. "Even people with sound mind and strong will will inevitably have the idea of self-destruction." After a while, Lin An said in a softer tone: "This idea is related to the memory of their suffering and injury in this world.

Generally speaking, this kind of memory can never be erased. It usually leads people's souls to illusory time and thinking about all kinds of unknown things, although the desire to escape often leads to despair. As Cao Xueqin later concluded, everything in the world is nothing more than a mirror. "Lin's words brought me back to the past years. As early as a few years ago, in a letter to me, his wife predicted the signs that their marriage was about to collapse. This letter was written in Russian. She mentioned the recent situation in Lin 'an with great concern, which made her very worried and scared. Because "he has gradually revealed his desire for hell in casual conversation" and "talking about Wang Zhihuan reminds me of someone", Lin An seems to be trying to remember his name "A Jew", "Did you say Rilke" and "Not Kafka", Lin corrected, and at the same time, his neck turned blue with excitement. Wang Zhihuan's behavior of burning poems often reminds me of Kafka's melancholy face. They all died of lung disease and suffered a lot in their marriage. They all had the same wish, but their disappearance did not succeed. People often make their own mistakes out of kindness, which makes these arrogant souls restless. Max Braud's behavior is unforgivable at this point. ""You mean that Wang Zhihuan's self-indulgence and annihilation have something to do with his hatred of the world? " "Hatred is only a relatively minor cause," Lin An said. "In addition, we know very little about Wang Zhihuan's life. The problem is that Wang Zhihuan has seen through the essence of human ruins and endured it humbly.

I think he made it very clear in the poem Liangzhou Ci. "You seem to mention geographical factors in this paper." Desert "Lin 'an explained that desert is the most common thing in that area where Wang Zhihuan lived for many years. Desert is a deadly metaphor at any time. In fact, a few days after I left Gansu, I dreamed that it was chasing my train behind me. Wherever I go, it follows me. I'm thinking that if the world has an established process as people say, it is undoubtedly an imitation of the desert. "Conclusion" You can ignore the fate of others, but you can't give your own fate to others. This is the basic idea I want to express in this article. "After Lin An made such a brief summary, our conversation ended. It's already dawn, and the sun hasn't come out yet. Dr. Lin 'an came to my bookcase, probably trying to take out a book to flip through. He stood there for a long time. There is a handicraft toy on the partition of the bookcase: a long-tailed monkey carved with coconut shells. This is a souvenir from Lin 'an in the name of him and his wife. At that time, they had just returned from Hainan's marriage. I remember it was a distant afternoon, and they stood hand in hand under my window. The silver ribbon pinned to her head sparkled in the sun.