Jiangnan Town (Two Excerpts)

one

I've always wanted to write about "Jiangnan Town", but it's difficult to write. There are too many small towns in Jiangnan. What is really worth writing about? Dismantling them one by one, we can see that none of them can form an independent historical site, so don't say much; However, if we avoid all of them, we will avoid an intimate humanistic culture, an ecological environment that skillfully constructs nature and human feelings, the thoughts and expectations of countless people in China, and the starting point and end point of the arduous journey of life, which is really inappropriate. I have been to many towns in the south of the Yangtze River, and I can see them with my eyes closed. There are narrow rivers running through the town, beautifully carved stone bridges and houses built by the river. There is water under the floors of these houses, and the piers of stone steps protrude from the lower floors. The women were washing on the dock when a wisp of white smoke rose from Wu Peng's boat, which was only a few feet away from them. Smoke drifted across the bridge mouth to the other side, and there was a low and wide stone fence on the other side of the river. Several old people sat there quietly watching the passing ships. Compared with the small town composed of diaojiao building by Xiangxi River written by Shen Congwen, the small town in the south of the Yangtze River is less muddy and more magnanimous and smooth. There is no torrent in front and no desert behind, so although it is secluded, it is far from imposing; Most of them have a long history, but their always moist lifestyle has not allowed them to keep many ruins and remains, so they can't hear many historical sighs; Of course, they have had honors and disgraces, but they have never staged a grand occasion, so it is not easy to have vicissitudes like Suzaku Bridge and Wuyi Lane. In a word, their historical distance and realistic appearance are dull and durable, narrow and long, just like the criss-crossing stone street. Brilliance is fleeting, and noise is another name for short life. After thinking about it, nothing can become an indifferent and stable symbol of life than a small town in the south of the Yangtze River. A large number of China literati fled to Buddhism and Taoism after being frustrated in entering WTO, but not many really devoted themselves to temple Taoism. After all, building barren hills and fishing alone in the Han River will bring a series of troubles to basic life. The best way to hide in the city is to hide in a small town in the south of the Yangtze River. It is normal to confront the prominent, but it is common people to confront the officialdom. More hidden than the withered grass trees on the mountain, they disappeared into the normal life of ordinary people in a small town. The obscurity between the mountains and forests still retains and advertises a kind of detachment, which is insincere after all; Concealment between markets in small towns, instead of deliberately torturing and destroying life, can make life very comfortable, make life stick in a quiet and convenient corner, and almost melt itself from the outside to the inside, so it becomes the highest form of concealment. It may be too narrow to say that it is hidden. Anyway, in my mind, the thinking of flowing water is an ecological image of religious life philosophy. It's easy to forget this philosophy of life in the usual busyness, but under some special circumstances, there will be an inexplicable temptation that people yearn for. I remember when the Cultural Revolution was in full swing, my father was detained for no reason, and my unmarried uncle committed suicide in Anhui. As the eldest son, I am in my twenties. How can I manage this family of eight? My university is also full of turmoil day and night, and I can't get away from it. I have to let my eldest brother, who just graduated from junior high school, go fishing to supplement his family. Every few days, my eldest brother always contacts me first and timidly asks if the situation at home is getting worse and worse before going home. Home, family members are still there, and the wall of home is still there, but it seemed to be completely exposed in the open air, ready to be attacked by wind and rain and bombarded by passers-by. In this case, we college graduates were instructed to continue the transformation in the military reclamation farm, and first trained and exercised in Songling Town, Wujiang County for a period of time. In those days, I queued for roll call every day, accepted long speeches, slept on the floor, and the food was extremely poor. Everyone knows that after the training and consolidation, we will be thrown into a world of mud, swamp and sweat, and there is no time to return. Our bunk was in an abandoned warehouse, and we peeped through the gap in the west wallboard. There is a quiet yard and a small room facing the river. Obviously, a newly married couple about our age walked into the room. They are the most common residents in this town. They may be salespeople or accountants in a small shop. They are very free. As long as you look at the past, they are always there, doing what is necessary for a day's life, but they are purely their own. They have some lukewarm conversations and smiles from time to time. Husband and wife are sober-minded, calm and serene. At that time, my companions and I were really shocked by this most normal small town life. Of course, there was a Cultural Revolution here, but after all, it was a small town with mild folk customs and didn't cause much trouble. After tossing once or twice, it disappeared and returned to an ordinary ecology. Maybe there is a "Li Guoxiang" in this town, but the newlyweds didn't, and Li Guoxiang didn't notice it. Well, it's good to live like this! This group of exhausted and uncertain college graduates cast their most ardent envy on the wall. I was alert at that time, and I didn't know where my heroism and spirit had gone. Why do I have such a decadent idea of seclusion in my twenties? Yes, I caught a glimpse of the life of a small town in the south of the Yangtze River in the bad wind and waves that year, and entered adulthood in my life perception. Lying on the floor covered with straw, I meditated on a famous paper written by British scholar De Quincy 100 years ago: Knock on the door in Macbeth. Quincy said that in Shakespeare's works, Macbeth and his wife used the night to kill and seize power in the castle. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door in the castle. This knock on the door made Macbeth and his wife panic and always made all the audience feel thrilling. What is the reason? Quincy has been thinking about it for many years, and he has come to the conclusion that knocking at the door in the morning is a symbol of normal life, which is enough to reflect the evil and animal terror in the dark, and also declares that a normal life in line with human nature is waiting to be rebuilt, and it is this contrast that makes people sincerely shocked. On those dark nights, lying on the ground floor, I heard a knock on the door of a small town in the south of the Yangtze River, which was light, faint, but loud and filled my whole body. Many years have passed and life has changed a lot, but the knock on the door still rings in my heart from time to time. To this end, I often like to find a small town in the south of the Yangtze River for a walk, but as soon as I leave, the knock on the door will be clearer and more inspiring. Busy people in contemporary metropolises, who occasionally come to Jiangnan town on holidays or other opportunities, will immediately purify the usual administrative noise, clamor for personnel, pursuit of fame and fortune, intrigue, hear their heartbeat in the hollow sound of their boots stepping on the street stones, and soon, they will walk into an empty consciousness and linger. Unfortunately, we have to return to the noisy environment after all. When my eyes lit up, I suddenly saw the famous "Memories of Hometown" painted by the famous American painter Mr. Chen Yifei. The mottled blue-gray is like a dream in the morning, and the criss-crossing double bridges are solid and ancient. Nothing can better summarize the towns in the south of the Yangtze River than this image, and nothing can better symbolize the hometown. I found that the prototype of Chen Yifei was Zhouzhuang in Kunshan County, Jiangsu Province. Chen Yifei and I are the same age, but different nationalities. San Mao, a writer from Taiwan Province Province with the same nationality, is said to have burst into tears when she arrived in Zhouzhuang, saying that she had been to many such places when she was a child. It seems that I must go to this place, too.

two

Like most towns in the south of the Yangtze River, Zhouzhuang has to take a boat to taste it. I made an appointment with two friends, rented a boat from the southeast bank of Dianshan Lake in Qingpu and crossed to the west. Walk across the lake and enter the crisscross river network. In other places, although rivers can also become transportation channels, they are mostly obstacles for ordinary people to travel daily. Here, it's completely different. Rivers have become streets where people wander with their feet. A boat, a family, walking leisurely. The husband is rocking the boat, the wife is cooking and the daughter is reading. Everyone is familiar with everything around them and doesn't want to look around. They just let the bright river take them where they want to go. We passed a boat with two well-dressed old ladies sitting in the bow. It seems that we went by relatives. Our boat sailed too fast and splashed water on the old lady's new clothes. The old lady tugged at the hem of her dress and pointed angrily at us. We apologized at once, and the old lady smiled kindly at once. This scene is as natural as accidentally bumping into someone in the market and saying "sorry" casually. The houses on both sides of the strait are getting denser and denser, the rivers are getting narrower and narrower, and the bridges passing overhead are getting shorter and shorter, which means the arrival of a small town. In many places in China, there is a children's song "Shake it, Shake it to Waipo Bridge" which has been circulating for a long time. I don't know how many people waddled into this world in this nursery rhyme. The beginning of life is always in the cradle, and the cradle is a ship. Its first sailing goal must be the mysterious bridge, where a kind old woman lives. As early as those years when we were lying in the cradle, the bridge we conceived seemed to be in a small town. Therefore, no matter how old you are now, every time you enter a small town in the south of the Yangtze River by boat, there will always be some strange memories in your heart, and some familiar ideas lurk in the strange wait and see. Zhouzhuang arrived, no one told us, but we knew. The market here is quiet, but the river is very lively. Many boats crisscross, and many boats load and unload goods on the shore barges. Some people even jump from one ship to another, or even to a place, just like walking down the aisle of someone else's house. Our boat squeezed into this excitement, and Shu Shu walked slowly forward. It's completely different from the depressed traffic jams in the city. When we find a boat parked in front of us on the river, we just need to reach out and hold one side of the boat when we approach, and the boat will swing a little outward, so that we can walk. That ship is probably loading, and other ships are coming and going. You hold me and push it, so that its hull will keep shaking, but the bow is tied to the dock, and nothing will happen. The loading boatman is also happy and busy, regardless of anything. There are many tourists like us in the town. Most of them came by land. As soon as they entered the town, they immediately realized the charm of water. They all want to stand on the boat and take a picture. They squatted on the river bank and begged from the boat people. I didn't expect the boat people here to be so frank. It's not easy to take a boat. Not only did I take photos, but I also sat for nothing. They live on water, are relatively rich, and their economic strength far exceeds these travelers. In recent years, film studios often come to town to shoot some historical films. The town was antique, but later they simply avoided all modern architectural methods, which made the film director very happy. But where can there be so many mass roles? The residents and boat people in the town are very helpful. A man wears a suit on his body and still works. You can take pictures. On the day I went, I didn't know there was a film factory at Qiaotou making a film in the late Qing Dynasty. Under the bridge, many townspeople and boat people put on the clothes of Qing farmers and are doing their own things. There's nothing unnatural about it, except that our ship approached and became a barbarian who broke into the Qing village. Looking from the boat to the river bank, it seems that all decent houses have their own docks at the door. This is not surprising. The river is the avenue and the pier is the gate. How can a big family borrow someone else's portal to welcome guests? In those days, a family had something to do. The most obvious sign is that his dock is full of boats, large and small, and the owners often stand on the dock to meet him. Our ship stopped at a large private pier, which belongs to a famous mansion, now called "Shenting", and was originally the residence of Shen Wanshan, the richest man in the south of the Yangtze River in the early Ming Dynasty. Jiangnan town has always had the ability of crouching tiger, hidden dragon. You see, just a few small rivers and bridges have settled an extremely rich god of wealth! Shen Wanshan's way to get rich deserves careful study by economic historians. Anyway, he was an economic and trade practitioner who was good at land management and commercial capital development at that time. Some people say that he mainly benefits from trade, including overseas trade. Although there is no extremely sufficient material to prove it, I believe. Zhouzhuang is small, but it is close to the Canal, the Yangtze River and the Huangpu River. Ships from here can connect north and south by canal and east and west by Yangtze River. They can also sweep the rich Hangjiahu area and nearby Suzhou, Wuxi and Changzhou, and then go directly from the Yangtze River estuary or Hangzhou Bay to Southeast Asia or beyond. Later, Liu Hekou, the starting point of Zheng He's voyage to the West, was very close to it. Being in such a superior geographical position, it is reasonable to own a Shen Wanshan. This is the universal nature of small towns in the south of the Yangtze River. Its historical harm lies not in its ostentation and extravagance, but in its full use of its convenience and silent self-respect, which makes us still confused about Shen Wanshan today. Tie the ship's cable, go ashore, and then look up, but it has entered the gate of the pavilion. Walking layer by layer, more than 600 years ago, home etiquette is like this now. This is the entrance hall, the residence of the guests' entourage, the reception room, the back room and the private dining room ... all the buildings are in the form of deep propulsion. As a result, a rather narrow street gate actually extends a long series of depth of field, which not only shows the prudence of Jiangnan businessmen hiding fools and clumsy, but also exaggerates the spatial rules of family etiquette. But as far as the whole house theory is concerned, it is still frugal. I think an asset that is only a small part of the house of a retired court official in Shen Wanshan may be even more arrogant than it. Businessmen's calculations are different from bureaucrats' ideas, especially in the Yuan and Ming Dynasties, when they sought development in the cracks of feudal bureaucratic machines. It is their "big threshold" to hide in the small door of a small town in the south of the Yangtze River and do big business in all directions. As you can imagine, ships of all sizes come and go frequently in front of the Temple of God, and all kinds of information, reports, decisions, orders, contracts and bank notes come and go from here, but most of the people who come and go are mysterious, silent and in a hurry. There may be no trade goods here. Real big traders don't use houses as warehouses and transit stations. It is difficult to find the place where the goods are stored and transported. No matter how rich they are, they are just businessmen. Without the protection of soldiers and the protection of the government, how can they make a splash? I haven't carefully studied Shen Wanshan's mental journey. I only know that after being a big businessman in a small town in the south of the Yangtze River, there was a big fall in Kyoto and South Kyoto. After all, his shrewd thinking ability only belongs to economic personality, which contradicts the officialdom personality of the feudal court everywhere, and it will fall apart when it hits. Can we not hit it? No, a businessman struggling in the absence of a normal business environment always wants to establish some kind of friendly relationship with the imperial court, but he doesn't know that the establishment of this relationship depends on money, and it can't rely entirely on money. There is a more complicated and sinister side than his businessman's mind imagined. It is said that Shen Wanshan, who was recognized by public opinion as the richest man in the south of the Yangtze River in raising funds, was the first person to build a decent wall after Emperor Zhu Yuanzhang of Ming Dynasty made Nanjing his capital. Shen Wanshan walked out of the door of the house and got on the boat. The ship left the small bridge and river in Zhouzhuang and headed for Nanjing. In Nanjing, he readily accepted the full cost of building a third of the city wall (from Hongwumen to Shuiximen), which was of course an amazing sum of money and shocked the ruling and opposition parties for a while. Things are a little dangerous here, because he is facing Zhu Yuanzhang, but he doesn't realize it consciously. He only knows how to strike while the iron is hot, and as in business operations, he gives huge sums of money to reward the army. Zhu Yuanzhang flew into a rage What are you, showing off your prestige in my capital with money? Did you reward the army? So he ordered beheading, and later, for some reason, he changed his mind and exiled to Yunnan. After a panic, the houses in Jiangnan town fell into a long loneliness. /kloc-Shen Wanshan, an outstanding financial master in China in the 4th century, failed to return. He went south to Wan Li in chains and eventually died in the garrison. Of course, he would dream of Zhouzhuang's flowing water and stone bridge every night in a strange smoky place, but his scarred life was stranded in such a remote place and he could not sail into a familiar harbor. Shen Wanshan may not know what logic made him suffer until he died. People in Zhouzhuang couldn't figure it out, but they thought Shen Wanshan was strange, and they made up some more bizarre stories to spread for a hundred years. Yes, a slightly more advanced business mentality than China was hard to see at both ends of the ruling and opposition parties at that time. As a result, some lessons of Zhuangzi's philosophy are left at the cost of its fiasco, so people are more quiet and futile, do not want to get rich and famous, and do not long for some sense of responsibility and honor of dissidents. They just let the river flow slowly and the boat paddled slowly, not wanting to go too far. Facing the painful lesson of Shen Wanshan, the towns in the south of the Yangtze River have become more and more aware of the ecology that they should cherish and abide by.

Snow in the sun

In ancient China, once a scholar, he didn't have a full view. The glory of civil servants lies in officials, not in literature. As scholars, they are also in officialdom.

However, things are strange. When the Hubei official's belt has already been scattered into mud, a poem occasionally drawn by a bamboo pen can actually engrave mountains and rivers, engrave people's hearts and never wander. I once had the opportunity to look up at Bai Di City in the boat on the river at dusk, climb the Yellow Crane Tower in the thick autumn frost, and touch Hanshan Temple in the winter night. There are many people around me, and almost all of them are full of poems that don't need to be quoted. People come to look for scenery as well as poetry. They can recite these poems when they are young. The children's imagination is sincere and realistic. So these cities, these buildings, these temples are all built in their own hearts. When they are old, when they just realize that their feet are enough, they are also burdened with heavy debts and eagerly look forward to visiting the poetic realm. For childhood, for history, for many unspeakable reasons. Sometimes, this longing is like looking for the lost hometown and visiting the lost relatives. The magic of literati can turn such a small corner of the world into a hometown in everyone's heart. What magic is hidden in their faded blue shirts? Today, I went to Yangguan to watch Wang Wei's Song of Besieged City. Before I left, I asked the old man in the county where I lived. The answer is: "It's a long way to go in Xiu Yuan. There's nothing to see, but some literati have worked hard to find it." The old man looked up at the sky and said, "It will snow for a while. Don't suffer this. " I bowed to him and turned and got into the snow. Once out of the small county, it is desert. There is nothing but snow, not even a wrinkle can be found. When traveling in other places, always find yourself a goal at each road section, stare at a tree and then stare at a stone. Here, I can't see a target with my eyes open, even a dead leaf and a black spot. So, I have to look up at the sky. I have never seen such a complete sky, and it has not been swallowed up at all. The edges are quite scattered and the earth is tightly covered. There is a place where genius is called heaven. On such a day, the earth is called the earth. Walking alone in such a world, the dwarf becomes a giant. Walking alone in such a world, the giant has become a dwarf. As a result, it cleared up, the wind stopped and the sun cleared up. I didn't expect the snow in the desert to melt so quickly. Just for an instant, the ground was full of sand, but there were no wet marks. A few wisps of smoke gradually floated out on the horizon, stopped moving and deepened. I wondered for a long time before I found that it was a ridge that had just melted snow. The bumps on the ground have become a shocking exposition, and there can only be one understanding: they are tombs of distant times. It's far from the county seat, and it's unlikely to be the burial place of city people. These tombs were eroded by the wind and snow, and collapsed with age, thin and depressed. Obviously, no one has ever offered sacrifices to sweep them away. Why are there so many and arranged so closely? There can only be one understanding: this is an ancient battlefield. I walked blankly in the endless grave, and Eliot's The Waste Land came to my mind. This is the wasteland of China history: like the horseshoe of rain, like the cry of thunder, like the blood of notes. The loving mother in the Central Plains has white hair, the spring boudoir in the south of the Yangtze River is far away, and the children in Hunan cry at night. Farewell to my hometown in Liu Yin, the general glared at me and hunted military flags in the north wind. With a puff of smoke, another puff of smoke drifted away. I believe that when the deceased died, they all faced the enemy lines in northern New York. I believe that they really want to look back at the last minute and take a look at the familiar land. As a result, they twisted down and became sand piles. I wonder if this starry sand pile was exchanged by historians for half a line of ink? Historians turned over the documents page by page, so the land was buried layer by layer. A 25-year-old mountain, written on this wasteland, is quite glorious, because it is, after all, a remote area of the kingdoms of past dynasties and has long been responsible for defending the territory of China. So these sand piles are more comfortable to stand on, and these pages can rattle. Just like the dry, cold and monotonous land, the historical proposition of the northwest frontier is relatively simple. In the Central Plains, it is different. The mountains are heavy and the waters are complex. The maze of years will make the clearest mind faint, and the sound of the morning bell and the evening drum is always so secretive and surly. There, there is no such casual sand pile, everything is stuffy in the beautiful scenery, and countless ghosts who died for no reason can only dive deep into the ground in grief and regret. Unlike here, I can show a dry history and let me touch it with the pace of the 20th century. There are shadows in the distance. In a hurry, there is water under the tree and sand has high and low slopes. Climbing a slope, I suddenly looked up and saw a bare mound on the mountain not far away. I am intuitively convinced that this is a sunshine pass. More and more trees and houses began to appear. That's right, where the important pass is, the military forces will be stationed there, and we can't do without these. Turn a few corners, then go straight to a sand slope, climb to the bottom of the mound, look around, there is a monument nearby, engraved with the words "Yangguan Ancient Site". This is a commanding height overlooking the four fields. The northwest wind thundered in Wan Li and came straight. After a few steps, it stopped. My feet stopped, but I clearly heard the chattering of my teeth. My nose must be red with cold soon. Oh, take a breath of hot air into your palm, cover your ears and jump a few times before you settle down and open your eyes. The snow here hasn't melted yet, but it won't. There is no trace of the so-called ancient site, only the nearby beacon tower is still there, and this is the mound just seen below. Most of the mounds have collapsed, and you can see layers of sediment, layers of reeds and reeds flying out, trembling in the cold wind after thousands of years. At present, it is a mountain in the northwest, all covered with snow, layered and reaching the sky. Anyone standing here will feel that he is standing on a rock by the sea. Those mountains are frozen oceans and waves. Wang Wei is really gentle to the extreme. For such a Yangguan, the bottom of his pen still does not show the color of fierce terror, but writes in a lingering and elegant way: "I advise you to make more wine, and there is no reason to go out to Yangguan in the west." He glanced at the green willow color outside the window of the Acropolis Guest House, looked at his friend's packed bags, and smiled and raised the hip flask. Have another drink, and you'll never find an old friend who can talk about wine like this outside the sun. This cup of wine, friends must not refuse, drink it off. This is the demeanor of the Tang Dynasty. Most of them will not cry and lament, but will discourage them. Their vision is far away and their life path is wide. Parting is frequent and the steps are open. This style, in Li Bai, Gao Shi, Cen Can there, glow more heroic. Among the ancient statues in the north and south, the statues of the Tang people can be recognized at a glance, with such strong bodies, calm eyes and confident spirit. When you see Mona Lisa's smile in Europe, you can feel it immediately. This serene self-confidence belongs only to those artists who really wake up from the nightmare of the Middle Ages and are quite sure of their future. The smile in the statue of the Tang Dynasty will only be more calm and serene. In Europe, these artists have been making a big noise for a long time, stubbornly trying to convey their smiles to the soul of history. Anyone can figure out how many years after the Tang Dynasty. But in the Tang Dynasty, it did not extend the confidence of artists for a long time. The snowstorm in Yangguan is becoming more and more sad. Wang Wei's poems and paintings are unique, and the boundary between poetry and painting, which has been repeatedly discussed by western philosophers such as Lessing, is now within his reach. However, the palace in Chang 'an only opened a narrow side door for artists, allowing them to bend down as humble attendants to create a little entertainment. The old man in history stood in awe, turned and left, trembling and went to the genealogy of the three emperors and five emperors again. Here, there is no need for art to make a big fight, and there is no need to have too deep sustenance for beauty. As a result, Kyushu's painting style is gloomy. Yangguan, it is no longer difficult to enjoy warm and mellow poems. There are still some scholars who left Yangguan in the west, but most of them have become officials and ministers. Even mounds and stone towns can't stand the blowing of so many sighs, and Yangguan collapses and falls into the spiritual territory of a nation. Will eventually become a ruin, a wasteland. Behind him, sand graves are like tides, and in front of him, cold peaks are like waves. No one can imagine that here, 1000 years ago, the grandeur of life and the vastness of artistic feelings were verified. There should be several voices of Hu Jia and Qiangdi here. The timbre is extremely beautiful, harmonious with nature and fascinating. Unfortunately, it has become the sad voice of the soldiers. Since a nation can't bear to hear it, they disappear in the north wind. Go home, it's getting late. Afraid of snow