The history I know may be different from that of most people. They look at events, changes, causes and effects, and the general trend or historical inevitability. What I see is the history of those people who are pale and plump, or whose overall personality is vague and sharp, after the wind and rain blow away. This kind of history is fragmented in my eyes. When the fragments left in my mind connect into a line, write a paragraph or form an imaginary scene, this is my happiest moment.
I am ashamed to say that I have only read half of this book so far. As for why I haven't seen it, it's really because of the disrespect brought by fear and carelessness. Historical common sense or humanistic accumulation can barely get here, and there is nowhere to put one more step, and one less step is still unfinished. If you look at it blindly, it will become a full stop on rice paper, which is not only abrupt but also does not draw a circle, affecting the first impression at first sight. Therefore, in my cognition, this book is growing. When I was young, I looked at my body. When people reach middle age, they look at their bones. Maybe I should look at the vicissitudes of my old age.
? In my opinion, the Southern Dynasties referred to in the book Chronicle of Southern Dynasties is not the Southern Dynasties in the historical sense. Jiang Xun's characters either started in the Eastern Jin Dynasty, ended in the Sui and Tang Dynasties, or broke away and continued to the Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms. The jittery 500 years are also a spiritual feast written by scholars in the history of China. Therefore, I myself have had the feeling that "the Qin fire can't burn all the simple silks, and the sword can't kill the scholars." In the most chaotic and turbulent times, there are always the most rambling souls. This book list is too heavy about history and too complicated about human nature. Let's start with the copybook and tell some forgotten stories from the ups and downs.
First, see the words like a face.
When I was a child, the color changed slowly, the mail was slow, and the communication depended on a phone call at home, but there were endless words, which were still soft and hung up after dialing. Then write a letter. No matter what you wrote in your previous article, you will pretend to be an adult and write "seeing words like faces" at the end. At that time, there was nothing to see. People in two places in a small city might walk around and see it, or they might be together again. There is only a tender pen body with the same words as a dog crawling.
As far as I can remember, I didn't stop writing letters until after my sophomore year. I was lazy and busy, so I showed a knowing smile when sorting out old things. In the era of underdeveloped communication, this is a kind of thinking, and there is no theorism. Now, it seems to have a simple way, and it also has the purity of asking questions and learning anecdotes. In today's era of developed communication, you are bombarded by phone calls, text messages, WeChat and emails every day. No matter your pronunciation, intonation and font, you naturally lose the beauty of waiting. This is a letter, I write mine, you write yours, to be fair, even if the cow's lips are wrong, so what? Maybe the ancients understood this feeling, maybe they read it, maybe they daydreamed, maybe they really didn't understand it.
When people talk about Wang Xizhi, the first thing that comes to mind is his Preface to Lanting, and for me, the first thing that comes to mind is his Burial. Nowadays, most people are very sad. They use mourning to cover up their laziness, their frustration and their cowardice. The "mourning" of that era was related to fighting fire. Jiang Xun linked the funeral notes with menstruation's notes, and made a comment that "living in a war era with worthless life, both the living and the bodies of the dead are trampled on", with a chapter of hundreds of words and just the right intensity. I really have mixed feelings after reading it.
The difference between ancient people and modern people is that they attach great importance to family ties in the face of natural and man-made disasters and despise family ties in the face of so-called righteousness. Fortunately, the Southern Dynasties were not such a righteous era. Anyone who has seen The Banquet knows that a dynasty can kill each other, kill each other, kill each other and iterate instantly. At that time, the most unreliable thing was the human heart, and the most unreliable thing was the Confucian benevolence, righteousness, courtesy and wisdom. In troubled times, there is always chaos in human nature. Being in a high position, treading on thin ice and hiding the rivers and lakes is also a bereavement. I believe Wang Xizhi is like this, and so is Xie Lingyun. Who are those teenagers who claim to be gifted?
But I don't trust historians. I just want to write down what I see with my own understanding. I believe that Wang Xizhi was heartbroken when he learned that his aunt had died. what can I do? Because of anti-tragedy, it is not the second time. "In these short decades, there are sorrows and sorrows for loved ones, as well as powerlessness for fate. I also think that Wang Youjun was "extremely upset" after learning that his ancestral grave had been planed. He left the tomb first and then poisoned ............................................................................................................................................'s sadness and heavy and powerless sigh.
You see, this is not traditional Confucianism. It is impossible to restrain emotions in a well-trained way, and it is impossible to achieve emotional moderation. But what is left between the lines is the gap of human nature, and there are countless sighs when you see it!
Seeing words like faces, a mourning word can be written in eight colors, or a bald pen or a thief. Every word is a reflection of mood, understand? I don't understand. There is always numbness under the mask of an actor tied by a rope. I seemed to understand a little more, touched a little soft in my heart, and then smiled professionally.
In troubled times, the rest of the thought is nothing more than reporting peace, so the "notes" of Wei and Jin dynasties are the writing of literati exchanges, which is free and free. However, from the initial communication to the calligraphy mode respected by later generations, the characteristics disappeared, the original intention disappeared, and the free and easy disappeared. Since the Tang dynasty, it has become rigorous, rigid, boring and heartless. Sad? Under the prosperous Tang Dynasty, this kind of sadness is not allowed. Later generations copied Wang Xizhi's notes of the Southern Dynasties again and again, not for calligraphy, but perhaps for commemoration, pinning a kind of grief and commemorating the people who once lived in an era.
An era of collapse is also an excellent one. From bamboo slips to silks, there are ink stains, which seem to turn to dust in an instant, as if some souls are jumping wildly, as if they are about to break through the paper and enter their minds, and as if they were sent to the twelfth lunar month and the Yinshan Xihe newspaper ... I received instructions. Is it good for you? "
Second, half the city is foggy and rainy.
Speaking of the Southern Dynasties, we can't help but mention misty rain, which is a broken wall under the war. If you use a poem to describe the Southern Dynasties, maybe you will think of "480 halls in the Southern Dynasties, with many towers and misty rain". Seeking Buddha may be for peace of mind, and seeking oneself is for living. Alas, how much misty rain is there on the balcony? How much? Not much, right? The pilgrims have already left, and the monks have all run away. What about those who left? What about those starving people who fell to the ground? I dare not think, in peacetime, how can a person who trampled an ant to death and recited a "curse of death" treat life like dirt? This is not irony, but happiness.
Then let's close the misty rain and watch Wudi. I once saw a black-and-white photo of "Three Monks and Vultures" in the documentary "West Lake", depicting the old days when monks under the Leifeng Pagoda sold beads to female pilgrims. This is probably pushing forward the peaceful era of 1500. The loud noise after Leifeng Pagoda was dug down by grave diggers is probably a prelude to the yellowing of pilgrims fleeing the war.
Speaking of the Southern Dynasties, we will think of Lu Ji's "Short Songs". The phrase "although the future is short, the future is long" always reveals a kind of desperate anxiety, and between the lines, there is dissolute human nature. Light sleep, isn't it? Is it rain, wind or flying outside the window? Is it moonlight, skylight or fire? In the short period of partial peace, will you dream back to other pictures and always ask yourself-where is it now and where will it go? Will there be the sound of striking the iron outside Luoyang and the clank of the piano over the execution ground? The past is gone forever, the piano is destroyed, and the lines separated by words are gathered into paintings with the feathers of palace merchants, which are independent and blended, heavy and free and easy.
Later generations cherish the memory of the Southern Dynasties and give the evaluation of "Jin people like rhyme". On the one hand, the evolution of characters brings a feeling of sadness, laissez-faire, freedom and seclusion; On the other hand, it is a savage figure in troubled times. This charm is by no means implicit or over-publicized, but a sense of distance and beauty produced by contradictions under great contrast. If you have to quote classics, it should be Yu's Distant Voice.
So in such a period, what kind of behavior seems excessive and what kind of piano sound doesn't seem to moan. Shi Shuo Xin Yu said that the grotesque was the main line in Han and Zhang Dynasties: Wu perished, and He Xun, a southern scholar-bureaucrat, was recruited by the Western Jin regime and went to Luoyang for the northern expedition. He Xun heard the clear piano sound on the boat through Wu, and went away, met Hans Zhang and became friends. On a whim, Hans Zhang went north by boat without even informing his family. You should know that the northern regime is in the chaos of the Eight Kings, and you can entrust your peers with a lifetime by touching a piano. You met a bosom friend and you were unprepared. It's also a trip that you just leave. Only when you leave, you will no longer see scars everywhere, and people will be warm and cold.
Walking away is the label of Hans Zhang Yisheng, which cannot be compared with Xie Lingyun and Xu Xiake of later generations. But one person is more "nervous". In the allusion of "Visiting Dai on a Snowy Night", I came back excitedly on a whim. He rented a boat, went on a snowy night, and came back safely before it turned white in Chai Men. Crazy! But even if this is not enough, there are more wonderful stories in Ren Dan: a ship with emblem is moored in Shazhu, and when it meets Yoko, "Wenjun Mountain plays the flute, try to play for me" and three songs "The two sides are silent". The beauty is that we don't meet, don't talk, and go home after the trilogy. This picture reminds me of what they heard, what they thought, and what they could not say.
Therefore, later generations revere the sacrifice and belittle it, but in my opinion, the sacrifice is better than the broken calligraphy and the emblem is better than the chaotic blade of human nature. Just like the contrast between "being a bodhi tree, my heart is like a mirror platform" and "Bodhi without a tree, the mirror is not a platform", the world sees more tangible brushstrokes than the artistic conception on paper. Then stop thinking and let the brothers start a dialogue. The emblem of Xian Zhi's works is "Xiao Suo's widowed society, and you must forget to return every wine, so you can be proud". "Pity" seems to be self-pity and a little conceited, which is the cleanliness and broad loneliness of Xiao Suo's widowed society. This description is appropriate and true. "The Scholars" said that once there was a fire, the emblem left in a hurry, and even the clogs were forgotten, but they were presented casually. Confucian praise color is not obvious, sitting in class, with the demeanor of a big official. So the old system followed, and there was the irony of "burning by ladder" in the Ming Dynasty.
That's weird, right? Strange. There is a corner in everyone's heart. No one else can get in or out. Only when they meet the most stinging pain can they leave the eyes of the dead and cry. In "Regret for the Past", it is said that the city offering the emblem was ill, and it died first, and the emblem was lost. The piano left by the offering was fondled in the mourning hall, and the strings were not in the same tune. The emblem fell off the piano and was named "Amethyst! Amethyst! Everyone is dead! " A few months later, Huizhi also passed away.
In the Southern Dynasties, death was the most innocent ending, and life was the most painful reincarnation. We parted the misty rain and saw Dan Tao's indifference to the world, the indifference and tranquility of Xiang embroidery and Liu Ling's split personality. We closed the misty rain, heard Ji Kang's Confucian shirt strike while the iron was hot, heard Ruan Ji's drunken piano mania, and heard the helpless sigh after the string-knot zither was destroyed. It has been raining intermittently for hundreds of years, and some people still can't see clearly after all.
Third, nothing is a scholar.
The taste of food, itself with the taste of time, others eat so much, I think it is full of tears. In today's developed logistics, especially in the Southern Dynasties, where materials were scarce, this is even more true. Therefore, it is said that one side of water and soil supports one side of people, and one side of humanity has also achieved one side of water and soil. There is a superstitious saying that when the soil is not acclimatized, wash the soil in your hometown with water from other places and drink it to recover. This practice has no scientific basis, but from the point of view that the ancients could not leave their homeland, it seems to be a distant sustenance. People who are far away from home will always bring a bag of hometown, think about the people in their hometown, eat the soil silently, and the picture is sincere, but there is a sense of joy.
Unfortunately, this kind of happiness can't span the thick history, but a frivolous ride home has always been talked about. Zhang Hans mentioned above is the protagonist of this chapter. The first story told by Jiang Xun in Chronology of Southern Dynasties is "When the autumn wind started, I missed the bass in Wuzhong, so I was ordered to drive home". A few strokes are simple but not indifferent, so "water shield bass" has become a cultural symbol because of Hans Zhang's story, and Hans Zhang has almost become a model of redemption for literati's seclusion, and this story can be circulated because he narrowly escaped the chill of autumn wind.
It is very clear in the Book of Jin Zhang Chuan that there is chaos in the world and disaster comes from the mouth. Zhang Han used "it's hard to go back" to describe this situation that you can't go back if you want to go back. If you don't go back well, you will be convicted and suffer. So Hans Zhang advised caution, respectfully took his hand and said sadly, "I also picked ferns from Nanshan and drank water from Sanjiang." Finally, a person lived in seclusion and was exiled, so there was no way to pick the EU and drink * * *, so the thinking of the perch became more dignified, with a kind of luck and a sigh.
From time to time, later literati "exhausted the west wind, and Ying Ji did not return?" It has become a world-weary and disease-free groan, which can be summarized by a "bitch melodramatic". What's more, when you ask Zhong Nanshan, it's like a gilded returnee, singing the slogan of high-end talents returning to China. After all, you can't afford some pen and ink.
The delicacy of perch has been praised by countless poems, but the taste of water shield has never been tasted. If we only say water shield, we can know its position in the hearts of Wu people through a sentence from Lu Ji: "There is soup from a thousand miles lake in the south, which is better than no pickled lobster sauce before!" In Shi Shuo Xin Yu, this is the first encounter between the "goat cheese" of the northern rich and the "soup" of the southern literati, and it is also the homesickness and sadness of leaving people for the north. When sentimentality accumulates to a certain extent, a simple question will explode with great energy. Sensitive? In order not to be looked down upon by others! The old country has passed away, and the old land has changed hands. In this situation, there is always a struggle belonging to the literati. Not much, one word is enough, you'd better respond with a smile, and then you will be beheaded.
I came back from Chongqing that year. On the plane, I thought about the salty, fresh and fragrant taste of Ziyang Street fire biscuits, but I didn't give up the spicy stimulation deep in the mouth of the porcelain. This is going home, and it may not come back for several years; I'll be back. Maybe I've changed since I came back. The whole person is torn apart by different ways of eating. Have you loved your taste since you were a child? Or a moment of passion? Is your step home light or heavy? It is growth to become a hometown in a foreign land, and it is vicissitudes to become a hometown in a foreign land.
Occasionally, I think of Hans Zhang on horseback or Hans Zhang on a raft. That's the real him. Maybe it's all true. Eating water shield bass, thinking about the roughness of northern mutton cheese, sighing for the rest of my life, thinking about being careful when I started writing, I slowly fell down. How to write this greeting! When will this greeting arrive? What happened to the kings in the north? That's a thousand miles away. We are in a different world, and the Jianghu is at a loss.
It's been years. A grave is long and two people hurry back, replacing six generations of kings. In the coffin, did you hear Yuan Di's own mourning, or the wild hope of Huating Crane, or the desolate song I came to bid farewell to? Do you dream of dense vegetables in spring and plain soup in autumn?
Hey! Gentlemen, take your time and wait for me on the bridge.
Fourth, the thinking of perch
Five, screw him.