Selected from: Cultural Journey Knowledge Publishing House Shanghai 1992 March Input: Zhu Zhu Recommended: CBOGANG.

one

There is a river outside the Mogao Grottoes. There is a clearing on the other side of the river, and several stupas are built high and low. The tower is round and looks like a gourd. It is painted white. Judging from the collapse of several towers, a wooden stake stands in the center of the tower, surrounded by yellow mud, and the base is made of blue bricks. Monks and abbots in Mogao Grottoes have never been rich, which can also be proved from here. As the sun sets and the north wind blows, this dilapidated tower group is even more desolate.

There is a tower, which is well preserved because it was built recently. There is an inscription on the tower. When I read it, I was suddenly surprised to find that its owner was Wang.

It is recorded in history that he was a sinner in Dunhuang Grottoes.

I have seen his photos, wearing homespun cotton-padded clothes, with dull eyes and timid. He was a common citizen in China at that time. He used to be a farmer in Macheng, Hubei, and fled to Gansu to become a Taoist. After many twists and turns, it unfortunately became the seat of the Mogao Grottoes and dominated the most splendid culture in ancient China. He received little money from foreign adventurers and asked them to carry away countless boxes of Dunhuang cultural relics. Nowadays, experts from Dunhuang Research Institute have to bear the burden of humiliation and buy microfilms of Dunhuang documents from foreign museums again and again, sighing and walking towards the magnifying glass.

You can vent your anger on him. However, he is too humble, too small and too ignorant. The biggest dumping is just casting pearls before swine, in exchange for a cold expression. Let his ignorant body fully bear this heavy cultural debt, even we will be bored.

This is a great national tragedy. Wang Daochang is just a clown in front of his body in this tragedy. A young poet wrote that that night, when the adventurer Stan was ready to set off with a team of ox carts full of boxes, he looked back at the gloomy sunset in the western sky. There, the wound of an ancient nation is bleeding.

two

I really don't know how a Buddhist holy place can be taken care of by a Taoist priest. Where have all the cultures in China gone? Why do they never mention the reason of Dunhuang when talking about Dunhuang?

At that time, it was the beginning of the twentieth century, and European and American artists were brewing a breakthrough in the new chronicle. Rodin is sculpting in his studio, Renoir, Degas and Cezanne are in the late stage of creation, and Manet has exhibited his Lunch on the Grass. Some of them admire oriental art, and Dunhuang art is in the hands of Taoist king.

Taoist Wang gets up early every day and likes to walk around the cave, just like an old farmer, watching his house. He is a little dissatisfied with the murals in the cave and looks a little dizzy. I wish it were brighter. He found two helpers and brought a bucket of lime. Put a long handle on the grass brush, soak it in the lime bucket and start his painting. The first time lime was painted too thin, and the color was still faintly visible. The farmer told him to do things seriously, and he brushed it carefully for the second time. The air here is dry, and the lime will soon dry. There is nothing left. Laughter in the Tang Dynasty and clothes in the Song Dynasty are all white in the cave. Taoist simple and honest smile, by the way, inquired about the market price of lime. He calculated that it was unnecessary to brush more caves for the time being, so let's brush these. He put down the brush handle philosophically.

When the walls of several caves were completely painted, the plastic sculpture of the middle seat was too eye-catching. In a clean farmhouse, their graceful posture is too ostentatious, and their gentle smiles are a bit embarrassing. The Taoist priest remembered his identity. As a Taoist, why don't you get some Shi Tian and Lingguan Bodhisattvas here? He told his assistant to borrow some hammers to bend the original plastic sculpture. Things are not bad, only a few times, graceful posture into pieces, gentle smile into mud. It is said that there are several masons in the neighboring village. They invited them, mixed some mud and began to build his celestial spirit officer. The mason said that he had never done this kind of work, and the Taoist comforted him. I might as well mean that. So, just like an urchin making a snowman, here is the nose, here are the hands and feet, and finally you can sit still. All right. Get more lime and paint it. Draw a pair of eyes and a beard. It looks decent. The Taoist priest took a deep breath, thanked several masons, and then made the next plan.

Today, when I walked into these caves, I felt pale in the face of pale walls and strange images. I can hardly speak, and my eyes are shaking with those brushes and hammers. "Stop it!" I cried out in pain at the bottom of my heart, only to see the Taoist king turn his face and be full of doubts. Yes, he is tidying up his house. Why do idle people make trouble? I even want to kneel down to him and beg him in a low voice, "Please wait, wait …" But what are you waiting for? My heart is still pale.

1900 In the early morning of May 26, 2000, Taoist Wang still got up early and tried to clean up the sand accumulated in a cave. Unexpectedly, when the wall shook, it cracked a crack, and there seemed to be a hidden cave inside. Road flyover Wang was a little strange and quickly opened the cave. Wow, it's full of real antiques!

Taoist king doesn't understand it at all. This morning, he opened a door that caused a sensation in the world. This cave will establish a permanent learning place. Numerous talented scholars will devote their lives to this cave. The glory and shame of China will be swallowed up by this cave.

Now, he is lying in the cave with a tube. Of course, he can't understand these things, but he thinks things are a bit strange. Why did the wall crack when I was here? Maybe this is God's reward for me. Next time I go to the county seat, I'll pick up some scrolls and show them to the county magistrate. By the way, I'll talk about this miracle.

The county magistrate is a civilian and has some weight. Not long after, Ye of Gansu Academic Station also learned about it. He is an epigrapher and knows the value of caves. He suggested that Mrs. Fan transport these cultural relics to the provincial capital for safekeeping. But there are many things, the freight is not low, and the bureaucrats hesitate. Only the Taoist king took out some cultural relics again and again and distributed them around the officialdom.

China is poor, but as long as you look at the luxurious life of these bureaucrats, you will know that you will never be poor enough to support this freight. Not all officials in China are uneducated. They also dug up the unearthed scrolls in the bright and clean study, speculating on the writing dynasty. But they don't have that childlike heart, and they are determined to protect the heritage of the motherland. They gently touched their beards and told their people, "When, please ask that Taoist to send some more!" " "I have a few pieces. Wrap them up. They are birthday gifts for Beijing officials.

Just then, scholars, sinologists, archaeologists and adventurers from Europe and America came to Dunhuang, not far from Wan Li. They are willing to sell all their property to pay for smuggling one or two cultural relics back. They are willing to endure hardships, risk being buried in the desert, and even get ready to be beaten and killed, and come to this newly opened cave. They lit thick smoke in the desert, and China officials were drinking tea in the living room.

Without any checkpoints and formalities, foreigners went straight to the cave. The hole is made of brick, locked, and the key is hung on the belt of Taoist Wang. It is a pity for foreigners. At the last stop of their sprint in Wan Li, they didn't meet the heavily guarded cultural relics protection official residence, the indifferent museum curator, or even the guards and doormen. Everything turned out to be this dirty Taoist priest. They had to shrug their shoulders humorously.

A simple chat will tell you the taste of Taoist priests. The original plans are redundant, and all the Taoist priests want is the easiest small business. It's like exchanging two needles for a chicken and a button for a basket of vegetables. Repeat this exchange account in detail, maybe my pen pal is not very calm. I can only say briefly: 1905, 10 In June, Russian Brou Chev exchanged a lot of documents and scrolls with him with a little Russian goods; 1907 In May, Hungary exchanged a stack of silver dollars for 24 boxes of warp rolls and three boxes of woven silks and paintings. 1July, 908, Frenchman Pelliot exchanged a small amount of silver dollars for ten carts, more than 6,000 notebooks and scrolls; 19 1 1 year1October, Japanese Koichiro Yoshikawa and Zuicho Tachibana exchanged more than 300 volumes of writing books and two Tang sculptures at unimaginable low prices; 19 14, Stan came again for the second time, and he still exchanged a little money for five boxes of more than 600 volumes. ……

Taoist priests also hesitated for fear of offending God. It's easy to get rid of this hesitation. That Stan coaxed him that he admired Tang Priest very much and came to China from India to learn the scriptures this time. Well, since it's a foreign Tang priest, take it away. The Taoist king opened the door in high spirits. There is no need for any diplomatic rhetoric here, just a few existing fairy tales. Box after box. One cart, another cart. All packed and tied. Whoops, the motorcade is leaving.

I didn't go to the provincial capital because the master said there was no freight. Ok, and then ship it to London, Paris, Petersburg and Tokyo.

Taoist king nodded frequently, bowed deeply and sent him a ride. He respectfully addressed Stan because "the Secretary-General is afraid of making promises" and called pelliot "the owner of the bay is afraid of making peace". He has some heavy silver dollars in his pocket, which is hard to get in ordinary charity. After saying goodbye, I thanked Master Si and Master Bei for their "charity". The motorcade has left, and he is still standing at the intersection. In the desert, two deep ruts.

When they returned abroad, Stan was warmly welcomed. Their academic reports and expedition reports always arouse thunderous applause. They often mention the eccentric Taoist king in their narratives, making foreign audiences feel how important it is to save this legacy from such a fool. They constantly hinted that it was their long journey that made Dunhuang documents move from darkness to light.

They are all pragmatic scholars, and academically, I can admire them. However, in their discussion, some very basic premises were forgotten. It's too late to argue now, but a few lines written by a contemporary China youth to Lord Elgin who burned down Yuanmingyuan came to my mind:

I hate that I didn't live a century earlier, so that I could stand in front of you, in the dark castle, in the wilderness where the morning light was slightly exposed. Either I pick up the white gloves you left behind, or you catch the sword I threw away, or you and I each ride a war horse, leave the handsome flag that covers the sun, and leave the winning or losing battle like a cloud at the gate.

These poems may be too difficult for this group of literati. But I really want to stop their motorcade in this way. Stand at each other in the desert. They will say, you can't learn; Ok, let's find a place first and sit down and compare our knowledge. We can do anything, but we can't quietly take away the legacy left by our ancestors.

I can't help sighing again. What if the motorcade is really stopped by me? I was going to send it to the capital, regardless of the freight. But wasn't there really a batch of cave literature sent to Beijing at that time? The scene is that there are no wooden cases, only mats are tied, and officials along the way reach in and get one. Where to rest, they have to leave some bundles. As a result, it was scattered and deformed when it arrived in Beijing.

How many volumes of scriptures can such a big China preserve? Compared with the scene of being tortured by a large number of officials, I sometimes even want to say: I would rather leave it in the London Museum! This sentence is not very comfortable after all. Where should the motorcade stopped by me go? It's difficult here and there, so I can only let him stop crying in the desert.

I hate it!

four

I'm not the only one who hates it. Experts from Dunhuang Research Institute hate me more than I do. They don't want to confess, just keep a straight face and study Dunhuang documents for decades. Literary films can be bought from abroad, and the more humiliating they are, the more dense they are. When I went, an international seminar on Dunhuang studies was being held in Mogao Grottoes. After the meeting a few days later, a Japanese scholar explained with a heavy tone: "I want to correct a past statement." The results of these years show that Dunhuang is in China and Dunhuang studies are also in China! "

Experts in China are not too excited. They left the meeting silently and walked past the death tower of Taoist Wang.

-

Yangguanxue

In ancient China, once a scholar, he didn't have a full view. The glory of civil servants lies in officials, not in literature. They are literati.

On the other hand, it is also the dissatisfaction in officialdom. But the thing is very strange. At that time, the Emei Bo Belt was already in the mud.

A poem is painted with a bamboo pen occasionally, which can engrave mountains and rivers, carve people's hearts and never ramble.

I once had the opportunity to look up at Bai Di City on a river boat at dusk and climb the Yellow Crane Tower in a thick autumn frost.

I touched Hanshan Temple on a winter night. By my side, people are crowded, and almost most people's hearts are back.

There are some poems that need no quotation. People come to look for scenery as well as poetry. These poems can be used in childhood.

Recite. The children's imagination is sincere and realistic. Therefore, these cities, these buildings and these temples have long been in my heart.

Ok, build it. When they are old and just realize that their feet are strong enough, they will also bear a sum of money for themselves.

Heavily in debt, eager to visit the poetry world. For childhood, for history, for many unspeakable things.

Reason. 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. They will fade.

What spell is hidden in the blue of color?

Today, I went to Yangguan to watch Wang Wei's Song of Besieged City. Before leaving, I stayed in the county town.

The old man inquired about it and got the answer: "It's a long way and there's nothing to see, but some scholars have tried to find it."

The old man looked up at the sky and said, "It will snow for a while, so don't suffer." I bowed to him.

Turn around and get into the snow.

Once out of the small county, it is desert. There is nothing but endless white, not even a wrinkle.

I can't find it when traveling in other places. You always have to find a goal for yourself in each paragraph, stare at a tree and rush there, but.

Then stare at a stone and rush there. Here, I can't see a target with my eyes open, even if it is dry.

Leaves, a black spot. So, I have to look up at the sky. I have never seen such a complete day, and I have never.

Swallowed saliva, the edges are quite scattered, and the soil is covered tightly. 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. such

Walking alone in the world, the giant becomes 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 fast, just for an instant, slowly.

There are sand spots on the floor, but there are no wet marks. A few wisps of smoke gradually floated on the horizon, not moving, but deepening and wondering.

It was a long time before I found out that it was a ridge that had just melted snow.

The bumps on the ground have become shocking expositions, and there is only one understanding: they are graves of distant years.

many

It's far from the county seat, and it's unlikely to be the burial place of city people. These graves are eroded by ice and snow,

Overwhelmed by age, emaciated and depressed, obviously no one has offered sacrifices to sweep it. Why are there so many, and they are arranged?

So dense? 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 exactly what

The wasteland of China history: like the horseshoe of rain, like the cry of thunder, like the blood of notes. The white hair of loving mothers in the Central Plains and Jiangnan

Looking at the boudoir in spring, Hunan cries at night. Farewell in my hometown of Liu Yin, the glare of the general with wide eyes, and hunting in the north wind.

The flag is flying. With a puff of smoke, another puff of smoke drifted away. I believe that when the dead die, they all have faces.

On the north side of the enemy line; I believe they really want to come back at the last minute and bet on the familiar land.

Eyes. As a result, they twisted down and became sand piles.

I wonder if this starry sand pile has been exchanged by historians for half a line of ink? Historians turned over these documents page by page.

However, in this way, this land has also been buried layer by layer. Twenty-five histories are written in this wasteland.

The pages of the book are still quite brilliant, because it is, after all, a remote area of the kingdoms of past dynasties and has long been responsible for defense.

The mission of China territory. 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.

Not the same, there is no way for mountains and rivers to be suspicious, and there is another village. The maze of years will make the clearest mind swell up and faint.

Our stereo is always so mysterious and rude. There, there is nothing like this careless sand pile, but everything.

Stuck in the beautiful scenery, countless ghosts who died for no reason can only dive into the depths of the earth in grief and regret. Not like here.

, can reveal a dry history, let me use the footsteps of the 20th century to touch in a hurry. faraway place

There are already trees. In a hurry, there is water under the tree and sand has high and low slopes. Climb up a slope and raise your head sharply.

I saw a bare mound on the mountain not far away, and I was convinced by intuition that this was Yangguan.

More and more trees and houses began to appear. That's right, where is the important pass, where the military forces are stationed, no

Can you do without these? Turn a few corners, then go straight up a sand slope, climb to the bottom of the mound, look around, and there is one nearby.

A tablet is 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, stumbling for a few steps before stopping.

Live. My feet stopped, but I clearly heard the chattering of my teeth. My nose must be red with cold soon. scold

A hot breath reached the palm of your hand, covered your ears, and jumped a few times before settling down to open your eyes. The snow here hasn't melted yet. When?

But it won't melt. The so-called ancient ruins, there is no trace, only the nearby beacon tower is still there, which is now.

The mound seen below. Most of the mounds have collapsed, and you can see layers of sediment, layers of reeds and reeds fluttering.

Come out shivering in the cold wind after 1000 years. At present, it is a mountain in the northwest, all covered with snow, layered and straight.

Sky. Anyone standing here will feel that he is standing on the rocks by the sea, and those mountains are all over.

This is a cold ocean and frozen waves.

Wang Wei is really gentle to the extreme. For this kind of sunshine, his pen is still not sharp or scary.

Color, but just lingering quietly wrote: "I advise you to drink a glass of wine, there is no reason to go out to the West." He glanced at it.

The willow outside the Acropolis Guest House is green. I looked at my friend's packed bag and raised the hip flask with a smile. reappear

Have a drink, and you won't find any old friends who can talk like this outside the sun. This cup of wine, friends must.

Never leave, drink it off.

This is the demeanor of the Tang Dynasty. Most of them will not cry and lament, but will discourage them. Their eyes are far away,

They live in a wide range. Parting is frequent and the steps are open. This style, on Li Bai,

Gao Shi and Cen Can were there, glowing with more heroic brilliance. Among the ancient statues of the North and South, the statues of the Tang people are clear at a glance.

I recognize it. My body is so fit, my eyes are so calm and my eyes are so confident. Seeing Mona Lisa's smile in Europe,

You can immediately feel that this natural confidence belongs only to those who really wake up from the nightmare of the Middle Ages and are interested in the future.

Pretty sure, artist. The smile in the statue of the Tang Dynasty will only be more calm and serene. In Europe, these arts

For a long time, artists have been making a fuss and stubbornly trying to convey a smile to the soul of history. Anyone can count.

Count the years after the Tang Dynasty. However, in the Tang Dynasty, it did not belong to the artist's confidence.

Lasting for a long time The snowstorm in Yangguan is becoming more and more sad.

Wang Wei's poems and paintings are excellent, and the boundaries between poems and paintings repeatedly discussed by western philosophers such as Lessing are acceptable to him.

Go in and out with your feet. However, the palace in Chang 'an only opened a narrow side door for artists, allowing them.

As a humble servant, I devoted myself to creating some entertainment. The old man in history stood in awe and turned away, trembling all over.

Di Wei re-entered the pedigree of Three Emperors and Five Emperors. Here, there is no need for art to make a big scene, nor for beauty.

Too deep a sustenance.

As a result, Kyushu's painting style is gloomy. Yangguan, it is no longer difficult to enjoy warm and mellow poems. Articles on the West Going Out of Yangguan

There are still some people, but most of them have become officials and ministers.

Even mounds and Shicheng can't stand so many sighs, and the sun falls in one place again.

In the spiritual realm of the country. 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, they

Later, it became a sad cry in the hearts of soldiers. Since a nation can't bear to hear it, they disappear in the north wind.

Medium.

Go home, it's getting late. I'm afraid it will snow again.

-

-Jiangnan Town

Author: Yu

( 1)

I've always wanted to write about "Jiangnan Town", but it's difficult to write. There are too many small towns in the south of the Yangtze River, which are really worth it.

What must be written? Looking at them one by one, none of them can form an independent historical site, so to speak.

Not too many words; However, if we all avoid it, we avoid an intimate human culture.

Avoid an ecological environment that skillfully constructs nature and human feelings, and avoid the hearts of countless people in China.

It is really wrong to miss and expect, and to escape from the beginning and end of the difficult journey of life.

I have been to many towns in the south of the Yangtze River, and I can see them with my eyes closed. The narrow river that runs through the town is beautifully carved.

Stone bridge, a residential building built by the river, the water is under the floor of the residential building, and the pier of the stone steps protrudes from the floor below.

Come on, women are washing clothes on the dock, and a wisp of white smoke rises from Wu Peng's boat, which is only a few feet away from them.

Smoke from the kitchen chimney drifted across the bridge to the other side. On the other side of the river, there is a low and wide stone fence where people can sit or lie down. Several old people are all over their faces.

Sitting there quietly watching the passing ships, compared with the small town composed of diaojiao buildings by Xiangxi River written by Shen Congwen,

The small town in the south of the Yangtze River has lost that muddy adventure and gained a little more smoothness and stability. There is no shoal ahead, and there is no shoal behind.

Desert, so although hidden, but far from imposing manner; Most of them are quite old, but they are always compared.

The damp lifestyle has not left them many ruins and remains, so they don't know much about history.

Sigh; Of course, they have had glory and shame, but they have never staged too grand a scene, so it is not easy to produce.

Life is similar to the vicissitudes of Suzaku Bridge and Wuyi Lane. In short, their historical distance and realistic characteristics are flat.

Sturdy and durable, long and narrow, like a criss-crossing slate street.

Brilliance is fleeting, and noise is another name for short life. After careful consideration, nothing can be more like a town in the south of the Yangtze River.

An indifferent and stable life. A large number of China literati fled to Buddhism and Taoism after being frustrated in entering WTO.

However, not many people really devote themselves to Taoism. After all, building barren hills and fishing alone in cold rivers will bring basic life.

A series of troubles. The best way to hide is to hide in a small town in Jiangnan. Yuxian

Hector's confrontation is normal, and the confrontation with officialdom is civilians. What is more hidden than the grass and trees in the mountains is disappearance.

In the normal life of ordinary people in small towns. The concealment between mountains still retains and promotes a kind of detachment, and

The concealment of indifference is insincere after all; The concealment between the town and the market not only does not have to deliberately torture and destroy life,

Instead, I can live comfortably and stick my life in a quiet and convenient corner, almost four times.

It melts from the outside to the inside, so it becomes the highest form of concealment. It may be too narrow to say concealment.

In my opinion, people who live on bridges and people who want to perch on trees are both ecological images of the philosophy of religious life.

It's easy to forget this philosophy of life in the usual busyness, but in some special circumstances, it will come into being again.

An inexplicable temptation makes people yearn for it. I remember that at the height of the Cultural Revolution, my father was detained for no reason.

My unmarried uncle committed suicide in Anhui. As the eldest son, I am in my twenties. How should I manage this family of eight?

My university is also surging day and night, which is both restless and unavoidable, so I have to let the newly graduated junior high school students.

My brother went fishing to supplement his family. Every few days, my eldest brother always contacts me first, timidly.

Ask if things are getting worse at home, and then go home. Home, home is still there, the wall of home is still there, but it is.

Time seems to be completely exposed to the open air, always ready to be attacked by wind and rain and bombarded by passers-by. under the circumstances

In this case, our college graduates were instructed to continue to transform the military reclamation farm, and we went to Wujiang County first.

The training and consolidation in Songling Town has been going on for some time. In those days, I queued for roll call every day, accepted long lectures and slept on the floor.

The food is terrible. As we all know, after the training, we will be thrown into a mud swamp immediately.

And there is no time to return. Our floor is in an abandoned warehouse.

Looking through the gap in the west wallboard, there is a quiet yard with 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.

People, probably shop assistants or accountants, are very leisure. As long as you look over, they are always there, no.

Slowly do what is necessary for a day's life, but it is purely your own business. I say a few lukewarm words from time to time.

Warm conversation, smile. Husband and wife are sober-minded, calm and serene. My partner and I were really caught by this.

The most normal life in the town has been shaken. Of course, there was a Cultural Revolution here, but it was a small town with both.

The folk customs are soft and there is not much trouble. After tossing once or twice, it disappeared and returned to the ordinary ecology. perhaps

There are only a handful of "Li Guoxiang" in this town. Anyway, the newlyweds didn't, and didn't get noticed by Li Guoxiang.

Italian characters. Well, it's good to live like this! This group of exhausted and uncertain college graduates threw themselves into the wall.

With the strongest jealousy. I was alert at that time. I wanted to know where my heroism and spirit went and why I was only in my twenties.

Have such a decadent idea of seclusion? Yes, I peeped at the life of a small town in the south of the Yangtze River in the bad wind and waves that year.

I took a step towards adulthood in my life experience.

I lay on the floor covered with straw, thinking of Thomas, a British scholar who returned to Quincy (T.

. De Quincey) wrote a famous paper: On the knock on the door in Macbeth. Quincy said

In Shakespeare's works, Macbeth and his wife use the night to kill and seize power in the castle. Suddenly, the castle rang.

Someone knocked at the door. 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 concluded that knocking at the door in the morning is a symbol of normal life, which is enough to counter it.

It shows the evil in the dark and the terror of wild animals, and also declares a normal life in line with human nature waiting to be rebuilt.

It is this contrast that makes people sincerely shocked. On those dark nights, I was lying on the ground floor and heard Jiangnan town.

Knock on the door, Benedict, gently, weakly, but the sound is endless, pouring into the whole body.

Many years have passed and great changes have taken place in life, but the knock on the door still rings from time to time.

From the heart. 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 louder.

Clear and inspiring.

Busy people in contemporary metropolis occasionally come to Jiangnan town on holidays or other opportunities, which will make the administration on weekdays

Disturbance, personnel clamor, fame and fortune, intrigue are immediately purified, and the hollow sound of your boots stepping on the street stone.

Hearing your heartbeat in your voice, you will soon enter an empty realm of enlightenment and linger. Unfortunately, after all,

Go back, go back to the noise and noise.

Such as shine at the moment, suddenly saw the famous American painter Mr. Chen Yifei's overseas painting "So".

Memories of hometown. The mottled blue-gray is like a dream in the morning, and the staggered double bridges are firm and ancient. There's nothing better.

The image can better summarize the small town in Jiangnan, and nothing can better symbolize the hometown than such a small town in Jiangnan. I play

Yes, the prototype of Chen Yifei is Zhouzhuang in Kunshan County, Jiangsu Province. Chen Yifei and I are the same age, different nationalities, but with me.

San Mao, a writer from Taiwan Province Province with the same nationality, is said to have burst into tears when he arrived in Zhouzhuang, saying that he had been to many such places when he was a child. look

Please, I have to go to this place, too