Strange to say, I was born and raised in Jiangnan, but I still have a deep attachment to Jiangnan's exquisiteness and gentleness. Especially in ancient towns, it is more like a tattoo engraved on the heart. Those quaint and elegant Ming and Qing buildings, those misty and rainy Gu Xiang, those swaying rivers, those deep courtyards with willow branches under the moon, those river arch bridges and those humanistic feelings are all imprinted in the deep heart, no matter how time passes.
Waterfront pavilions, carved beams and painted buildings, paddle lights, and the soft words of Wu Nong given by Jiangnan are intoxicating. It is always a dream, even if a gust of wind, with flowers, even if it rains, with the pulse of water. Over the years, it was a dream. How many years have passed, and Jiangnan gives people more than just tenderness. The profound historical and cultural heritage and the vicissitudes of the world for thousands of years make every grass and tree in the south of the Yangtze River full of spirituality, and every brick and tile is full of stories.
Walking in the poetic and implicit south of the Yangtze River, you can feel the clouds are calm and the wind is clear, and your eyebrows are lowered, which will move your heart. If Jiangnan is a myriad of customs left in the folds of life in the old days, then the ancient town is the soul of Jiangnan. It is like a boat, moored in our heart lake, or bright or dark lights calling us, let us find a little peace in the downtown area. It is like a flute, long and distant, blowing in the leaves of our lives. No matter how far we go, the beautiful melodious flute can help us find our way home.
Choose a city to die and meet a person who will grow old together. I believe that everyone has such an extravagant hope in his heart: to keep the most beautiful love in the warmest place and be the darling of life. However, many times, we can't catch up with the ideal wings and can only suffer in the opposite direction. Every time, we walk through the jungle of reinforced concrete, face more and more towering buildings, go in and out of more and more upscale places, enjoy more and more rich food, and sit in more and more convenient transportation, we all feel lonely. Except for empty bags, few really belong to us.
Time is not tolerant, time is too hasty, thinking is too impetuous, or too hasty? We asked again and again in our hearts, but we could never find the answer.
If you don't go home, you are wandering around. How long do we have to wait for our souls? How long will it take before we can keep the paradise of our dreams? In real life, chasing the wind and waves, we are exhausted, unable to fight, unable to escape, and how much we are unwilling to struggle outside our dreams?
How long for a place where we can let go of our heaviness, fatigue and depression, how long for a place where we can forget our pain, troubles and sadness, and how long for a place where we can turn ordinary and plain into warm, romantic and emotional atmosphere. Drinking tea in front of the court, indulging in flowers, knocking on chess pieces casually, writing books and splashing ink, such a comfortable life can only be afforded by the dream water town.
Speaking of the water town in the dream, there are many beautiful poems, such as the pen from the gods, but the one in Ma Zhiyuan's "Tianjingsha Qiu Si" is a farewell song throughout the ages: "The ancient road is long and flowing." , the most can evoke the lovesickness in people's hearts. In countless days of looking at the ancient town, like all the people who can't stay, I can only borrow a piece of ink and wander in the ancient rhythm. Until one day, I couldn't hold back my inner yearning, and Wuzhen became the first choice for me, a Jiangnan person, to find a dream and realize it.
"Wuzhen will always be Wuzhen, the most beautiful corner of the Jiangnan water town, so warm, like a dream curtain in the evening, and like a swaying rose in the morning light." Yes, Wuzhen will always be Wuzhen, an ancient water town with a history of 1300 years. It has completely preserved the style and pattern of water towns in the late Qing Dynasty and the Republic of China, and is known as "the last water pillow family in China". An ancient water town with profound historical and cultural heritage and exquisite calligraphy and painting; An ancient water town echoing the sound of Prince Zhaoming's Lang Lang's book gave birth to Mao Dun, a great literary master, with a unique blue printed cloth made of herbal baking technology, various antique collections and Buddhist Taoist temples.
Walking into Wuzhen Scenic Area is like walking into an ancient and distant axis of ink painting. The buildings in the Ming and Qing Dynasties, the patchwork of white walls and tiles, the moss-covered stone sills in river ports, the singing Wu Peng boat and the drizzle-deep ancient streets and alleys are all shocking. How can a thin pen write such amazing beauty? Perhaps only by being there, stepping on a long rainy lane, living in a quaint house, touching ancient vines and looking at ancient collections can we truly feel the massiness endowed by history and its wonder.
The small bridge is full of flowing water and misty rain, and it is full of poetry and painting everywhere. If water is the eternal theme of the ancient town, then Ming and Qing architecture is an indispensable part of this theme song, and Shui Ge is the crowning touch. Wuzhen, worthy of being the last pillow water family in China, is divided into four blocks by the cross-shaped inland river system. The density of rivers and the number of stone bridges are the highest in ancient towns in China. The waterside pavilion described by Mr. Contradiction, which can stand at the back door and draw water with buckets, can be heard in the middle of the night. Alas, they are scattered on both sides of the river.
Shui Ge has a natural charm, facing the ancient streets and leaning against the rivers of the city. It is all made of wood and painted with black paint. There are windows on three sides, and the houses are connected for miles. The pavilions built by the river and connected with the main building are all supported by stone pillars and wooden stakes, much like the diaojiao building of the Dai people, and look like a boat walking in the water from a distance. Fireworks upstairs, running water downstairs, and green tiles rolling on the roof. Needless to say, the intoxicating beauty stained with fireworks.
Sitting on the thin awning boat, I can't help but imagine the far and near scenery on both sides of the strait, the towering horse head wall, Guanyin pocket, blue-gray tile, undulating roof, cornices and carved doors and windows. Imagine, on a sunny night, on the desk near the window of Shui Ge in Xiao Mu, with the orange light of a desk lamp, spreading out the stationery, writing down delicate and graceful thoughts on the pink and blue stationery sentence by sentence, then folding it gently, putting it in an envelope and sending it to the distant place of missing. Or a drizzly autumn night, holding a cup of chrysanthemum tea and leaning against the window, watching the fine raindrops drop on the water surface, letting the cool evening breeze blow the hair tips and wrinkle the running water under the attic. In a slight reverie, the past comes with the rain and dust, dense, cutting constantly, and the reason is still chaotic. At this time, the heart will definitely get wet, delicate and slippery. What a wonderful thing this will be.
Wuzhen has beautiful scenery and outstanding people. Former residences, academies, Taoist temples, pawn shops, places of interest, and places of interest all bow to their knees, and they are as rich as treasures, so that everyone they meet is willing to sink, and they don't want to leave after coming here.
Walking in the long rain lane, watching the story of the blue tile, watching the vigorous vines climb over the corner, watching the high eaves tell the legend, and watching the years pass like water. I feel that every piece of moss is full of poetry, and every spinning wheel is entangled in the past, touching the ancient doors and windows, and my thoughts are myriad. I don't know how much loneliness and melancholy I have locked up, and I don't know how many stories I have staged.
Wuzhen is such a place where people can imagine and touch the scenery. Just when I tried to open a window, Wuzhen opened a door for me, which was an unexpected joy and touch.
When I stood in front of the ancient manual dyeing house in Hongyuantai and looked at the blue printed cloth hanging from the cloth drying pole more than ten meters high, my heart was deeply shocked again. These pure herbal hand-made fabrics with a history of thousands of years are baked with mortar made of lime and soybean flour, engraved and scratched on hand-woven white cloth blanks, and then made by multiple printing and dyeing processes, just like a fresh and free air, with the fragrance of the soil in Yuan Ye, floating in the empty cloth drying field. That kind of pure blue, that kind of pure white, that kind of beauty as elegant as an elf washes away impetuousness, captures people's souls, and makes people return to the age of innocence at once.
It is a kind of happiness to walk through the dancing blue calico and feel familiar around. Maybe once, I was a girl from a farmhouse in Guzhen, wearing blue calico, picking mulberry and sericulture, spinning and weaving. In my spare time, I will pick a plum blossom or a peach in the yard and put it in an old white porcelain vase. I will also water jasmine, string white orchids into a pair of skirts, wash them on the river port, watch the passing ships and watch the sunset glow against the morning dew, so that every day is like gardenia. Maybe once, I was the woman of the Republic of China who walked in the fog. I stood under the eaves with upturned cornices and leaned against the wooden doors, watching the beloved man go out to study, watching the elegant silk shirt drifting away in the rain and fog, and the white scarf swaying with the wind holding my thoughts for a long time and holding each other's hearts.
I don't know who said that the most beautiful thing in life is not the rainy day, but the roof you use to shelter from the rain. In other words, the most beautiful thing in life is not the roof you use to shelter from the rain, but the bits and pieces that can be awakened and recalled.
If there are many memorable things in life, then the old post office in Wuzhen is the place that can awaken memories most. The old post office was built in the 29th year of Guangxu in Qing Dynasty, and it is still open to the public. This is an old-fashioned house with brick structure, and it is also the only building with strong western flavor in Zhaxi Scenic Area. Circular arch columns, hollowed-out wrought iron doors and windows, and a large green mailbox standing quietly at the door will remind you of many stories about Hongyan's biography and letters.
At the beginning of the lights, the old post office was filled with a more charming atmosphere. The soft lights in the room leaked from the hollowed-out doors and windows, and blended with thousands of lights in the ancient town, adding romance to simplicity and warmth to romance. My thoughts were suddenly pulled for a long time, as if I were back in the Republic of China. On the beach of Shili Yangchang, there was a lingering sound, indulging in money, dancing lightly and swaying red wine.
If simplicity is the epitome of an era, then drunkenness is the epitome of an era. When we look at the distant simplicity with the eyes of modern people in the noisy gap, simplicity has become fashion again. Tonight, I'm sitting in a teahouse by the river. In the dim light of the red mud stove and the lingering fragrance of chrysanthemums, I'm watching colorful lights outline Wuzhen, a dreamy fairyland, watching the restaurant on the other side push a cup for a change, and watching the awning boat float by in front of me. The pulp of time is plated with light that makes me intoxicated again.
Walking through a long rain lane, drinking the mellow beauty of Sanjiu wine, loving a person in the prime of life, Wuzhen, as soft as water, is more than just an ancient town when I pick up those years that have flown away in the rain lane covered with stories. Dream is round, you are the harbor in my heart, leave, you are my hometown in my heart. Even though the years pass like water, this quiet time, the dependence in silence, has been branded into my heart, enough to warm my life.
Tonight, I just want to sleep with your tenderness.