Ji Xianlin reveals the truth of history and his own life in his prose. Below is a selection of Ji Xianlin’s beautiful prose that I compiled. I hope you will like our article. Selected Article 1 of Ji Xianlin's Beautiful Prose: Lantana
There was a long time when I lived alone in a deep and large yard. Walking in from the outside, the further you walk, the quieter you get. The sound of your footsteps becomes clearer and clearer, as if you are walking from the busy city to the mountains. When the footsteps become the sound of footsteps in the empty valley, the place where I live has arrived.
The yard is not small. It is paved with square tiles and has corridors on three sides. The patio is covered with branches, and when you go below, you will find thick shade on the ground, keeping you cool and sheltered. Judging from the momentum of the house and the thickness of the beams and columns, we can still vaguely see the wealth and prosperity of the past.
This aura of wealth has its origin. Hundreds of years ago, this was the Dongchang of the Ming Dynasty. I don’t know how many people with lofty ideals who care about the country and the people have been imprisoned here, and I don’t know how many people have been tortured or even lost their lives here. It is said that traces of the water prison from that time can still be found.
By the time I moved in, the affluence was long gone, but the gloomy and miserable atmosphere remained intact. Coupled with the Han Dynasty sarcophagi and stone coffins displayed in the corridor, and ancient stone tablets engraved with seal characters and official characters, as soon as I walked back to the courtyard, I felt like I had entered an ancient tomb. Such an environment and atmosphere bring my memory back thousands of years; sometimes I feel as if I am living in history, and I am as if I have become an ancient person.
Such an atmosphere suited my mood at the time. I never believed in ghosts and gods, so I lived here calmly.
But there are also times when I’m nervous and not calm. Often in the middle of the night, I suddenly hear the sound of the door being pushed, which is very loud and strong. I had to get up and take a look. There were frequent power outages at that time, so I could only crawl up in the dark, find the door, and walk out. It was so dark in the yard that nothing could be seen. Even the shadows of the trees seemed to be stuck together with the darkness, making it impossible to distinguish them at all. I only heard a burst of sound on the big toon tree, and then there was a mumble, and two small electric light-like eyes were shining at me from the depths of the branches.
Such a place will not arouse any good impression among my friends who often come and go. Several people who were still interested in talking to me during the day were afraid of walking into the courtyard at dusk. If something happens and I have to come, I will always ask my co-workers at the gate whether I am really at home. Only then will I have the courage to walk through the long alley and the deep yard to my house. inside. One time, when I went out, the gatekeeper didn't see me, and a friend walked into the yard where I lived. In the dim light of dusk, only the shadows of trees could be seen, and the courtyard was full of sarcophagi, but there was no light on my small window. His legs immediately started shaking, and it took a lot of effort to drag them out. When we met the next day, we laughed at each other when we talked about this experience.
Do I also feel lonely? It should be said that I do. At that time, it was an era when thousands of people were in the dark, and the city of Beijing was in darkness. When I am in school during the day, I can draw some strength and happiness from their vigorous will to fight and vitality with young classmates, and my spirit is very uplifting. However, at night, when I walked back to this so-called home alone, I seemed to be isolated and independent. There was no sound, no lights, no life at all. In the dim light of the kerosene lamp, I could only see my tall, big, and shockingly black figure swaying on the four walls, as if a giant spirit had come into my house. Loneliness sneaks up on me like a poisonous snake, tormenting me and leaving me with nowhere to escape between heaven and earth.
At such a helpless time, one day, in the evening, I walked into the yard from outside and suddenly smelled a scent that was both strong and light. I looked up and saw that the lantana flowers covering the yard were in bloom. Before this, I knew that these trees were Lantana; but I didn't pay much attention to them. Today they told me of their presence with their scent. This seems like a new thing to me. I couldn't help but stand under the tree and look up: the fine leaves densely built a ceiling, and above the ceiling was a layer of pink filament-like petals. Looking from a distance, it looked like green clouds floating up. There were clouds of red mist. The aroma spread from this green cloud, covering the entire yard and my whole body, making me feel like I was swimming in a sea of ??fragrance.
It is common for flowers to bloom, and it is even more common for them to bloom and smell fragrant. However, at such a time and in such a place, I felt it was unusual to have such flowers and such fragrance. The fragrance of flowers comforted my loneliness, and I even felt almost grateful.
From then on, I fell in love with Lantana and regarded it as my close friend.
Beijing was finally liberated. October 1, 1949 brought light and hope to all of China, and to the whole world. This day of great significance opened a gap in my life, and I seemed to have regained my life. Unfortunately, I moved out of that yard soon and said goodbye to those lovely lantana flowers.
Time flies by so fast, and now, in the blink of an eye, thirteen years have passed. These thirteen years have been the most important, fulfilling and meaningful thirteen years in the history of my life. I saw a lot of new things, learned a lot of new things, and went to a lot of new places. Of course I also saw a lot of exotic flowers and plants. I once saw large red flowers blooming on the giant trees in Cape Comorin, the southernmost tip of the Asian continent; I once saw the small gardens full of flaming red flowers blooming in Taunggyi, a summer resort in Myanmar. Famous flowers; I also saw roses that looked like small trees in Tashkent. These flowers are extremely beautiful and beautiful. Selected Part 2 of Ji Xianlin's beautiful prose: February Orchid
In the blink of an eye, somehow, the entire Yan Garden became the world of February Orchid.
February orchid is a common wild flower. The flowers are small, purple and white. There is nothing special about the flower shape or color. If there are only one or two among the flowers, they will never attract anyone's attention. But it has many victories. Every spring, when the gentle breeze blows, small flowers bloom; at first there are only one, two, or a few. But in the blink of an eye, in one night, they can become hundreds, thousands, or ten thousand flowers. It has the momentum to surpass hundreds of flowers.
I have lived in Yanyuan for more than 40 years. At first I didn't particularly notice this little flower. Until the year before last, perhaps it was the year when the February orchid bloomed. I suddenly discovered that starting from the small hill next to the building where I lived, I walked all over the garden. Everywhere I looked, there were February orchids. Beside the house, under the fence, in the forest, on the top of the mountain, on the slope, by the lake, wherever there is an open space, there is a cloud of purple air, interspersed with white mist, and the little flowers are blooming vividly and vividly. The momentum is extraordinary, and the purple air shoots straight into the sky. The universe seems to have turned purple.
In my daze, I suddenly discovered that February Orchid had climbed up the tree. Some had already climbed to the top of the tree, and some were trying to climb. It seemed that I could even hear the sound of breathing. I was really surprised: Could it be that the February Orchid has really become a spirit? When I took a closer look, it turned out to be some wisterias in the February Orchid bush, which were also blooming. The color of the flowers was exactly the same as the February Orchid. , all that is missing is the white mist. I actually find this hallucination of mine very interesting. With a clear mind, I observed carefully: except for the flower shape, the color is really the same. Anyway, I knew that these were two kinds of plants, and I felt confident. However, in the blink of an eye, I still saw the February Orchid climbing up the branch. Is this real? Or an illusion? Just let it go.
Since I realized the existence of February Orchid, some memories related to February Orchid immediately came to my mind. Things that I rarely thought of or didn't think of at all now come to mind; trivial things that I thought were very ordinary now seem very extraordinary. I suddenly realized clearly that this very ordinary wild flower actually occupies such an important position in my life. I was a little surprised myself.
The strands of my memories start from the small dirt hill next to the building. This small earthen hill was nothing surprising at first. It was only two or three meters high and covered with weeds. When the bad wind blew violently, every time the house was cleaned, everyone in the building was called out to pull weeds, not to "green" but to "green". Every time I secretly hate the amount of weeds on this hill. Later, for unknown reasons, the mountain was piled one or two meters higher. In this way, the mountain becomes quite mountainous. The green pines in the east and the green cypresses in the west seem to have regained their youth, and are lush all year round. There is an elm tree in the middle. Judging from the age of the tree, it can only be regarded as the great-grandson of pine and cypress. However, it also has lush branches and high branches that penetrate into the clear blue sky.
I don’t remember when I noticed the February orchid on the hill. The blooming of this wild flower probably varies from year to year. When I encounter Xiaonian, I only open a few sparse patches before and after the hill. During the New Year, the mountains in front and behind will bloom into large areas. Erlan seemed to be going crazy. We often talk about flowers blooming, and the use of the word "angry" is really wonderful. When the February Orchid is angry, it seems to draw a primitive power from the depths of the earth, and it must bloom all over the world. The purple energy shoots straight into the sky, and even the universe seems to have turned purple.
Dongpo’s poem said: The moon waxes and wanes, and people have joys and sorrows. This is difficult to do in ancient times. ?But the flowers seem to have no joys and sorrows. They open when they should open; they disappear when they should disappear. They are "in the middle of the great waves", where everything goes with the flow, and they don't care about sorrow or joy. This is what my February orchid looks like.
However, man, the spirit of all things, has feelings, and with feelings comes joy and sorrow. This is really unnecessary, but there is no way. People themselves are sentimental, but they transfer their sentiments to flowers. They ask the flowers with tearful eyes and the flowers are silent. Of course, the flowers are silent. If the flowers were really talking, wouldn't it scare people? I understand these truths very well. However, I still hang my joys and sorrows on February Orchid.
When my ancestor was still alive, every spring when the February orchid bloomed, she would often take a spade and a black schoolbag and go to the green grass next to the February orchid. Search for shepherd's purse. As long as I see her figure swaying in the purple mist of February Orchid, I know that the fragrance of shepherd's purse wonton must be permeated on the lunch or dinner table.
When Wanru was still alive, every time she went home, as long as the February Orchid was blooming, when she left, she always walked through the purple mist of the February Orchid on her left hand, and the green smoke of the weeping willows by the lake on her right, walking in a hurry Go and take my eyes all the way to the bend on the other side of the lake. When the nanny Yang Ying was still at my house, she also became attached to Xiao Shan and Er Er Lan. I once wrote three sentences paraphrasing Song poetry: "In the afternoon, I look for wild vegetables with my partner, and in the evening I hold my cat towards the sunset. At that time, I just thought it was ordinary." ?When my kittens Huzi and Mimi were still alive, I often saw them in the February orchids: one black and one white, particularly conspicuous among the purple.
All these trivial things are extremely ordinary. However, a long time ago, today, the ancestors and Wanru have left us forever and ever. Xiaoying also returned to her hometown in Shandong. As for Huzi and Mimi, they also followed the cat's rules and went into some dark corner of Yanyuan, waiting for death. The departure of Laozu and Wanru took away my heart. Huzi and Mimi are also unforgettable to me. Nowadays, although the sky and the earth are wide and the sun still shines, I feel boundless loneliness and desolation. Recalling these past events, like clouds and smoke, they used to be close before our eyes, but now they are like Penglai Lingshan, beyond our reach. Selected Part Three of Ji Xianlin's Beautiful Prose: Oleander
Oleander is not a precious flower, nor is it the most beautiful flower; but, to me, she is the most worthy of nostalgia and memory. flower.
I don’t know why or when, but in my hometown city, almost every house has planted several pots of oleander, and they are all placed under the screen wall inside the gate. , facing the gate. As soon as the guest walks through the door, he is greeted by a delicate fragrance, and his eyes are filled with green wax-like leaves and red clouds or white snow-like flowers. He immediately feels as if he has walked into his own home and feels at home.
There are also two pots inside the door of our house, one pot is red and the other is white. When I was young, I had to walk in and out of here every day. Red flowers remind me of fire, white flowers remind me of snow. Fire and snow are incompatible; however, these two pots of flowers bloom together harmoniously, just like snow on fire, or fire on snow. I took pleasure in it, and in my little heart I felt it was very strange and interesting.
There is only a wall, and after turning around the screen wall, there is the courtyard. Our family has always loved flowers; although there are no very expensive flowers, we have all the common flowers. Every spring, the jasmine flowers first bloom with small yellow flowers, announcing the news of spring. Then came peach blossoms, apricot blossoms, crabapples, elm-leaf plums, lilacs, etc., and the yard was full of flowers. In summer, the courtyard is even more lush. Impatiens, dianthus, cockscomb, five-color plum, Jiangxi wax, etc. are colorful and beautiful. The aroma of tuberose permeated the entire courtyard on a summer night, something I will never forget. In autumn, hostas bring a desolate chill, and chrysanthemums announce the end of flower events. In short, flowers bloom and fall in three seasons a year without interruption; although the scene is beautiful, there are many changes.
However, inside the gate separated by a wall, the oleander was there quietly and silently. One flower failed, and another one bloomed; one flower turned yellow, and another one grew. Dulu; In the warm spring breeze, in the heavy rain in midsummer, and in the coolness of late autumn, there is no time when it is particularly lush, nor is there any time when it is particularly declining. There is no day when I am not doing my best in the wind, from spring to In autumn, everything from winter jasmine to hostas and chrysanthemums accompany you. Doesn't this bit of resilience form a strong contrast with the flowers in the yard?
But the beauty of oleander doesn't stop there. I particularly like the oleander in the moonlight. When you stand under it, the flowers are a blur; but the fragrance is unambiguous, coming down from the flower branches intensely. It casts shadows on the wall. The leaf shadows are jagged and the flower shadows are blurred, which can arouse many fantasies in me. I imagined it was a map, and it turned out to be a map. This bunch of shadows is Asia, that bunch of shadows is Africa, and the blank space in the middle is the sea. It happened that a few small insects crawled across, and this was the ocean ship that traveled across the ocean. I imagined it was Nymphoides in the water, and a small pond really appeared in front of me. The shadow of a noctua flying over the wall is a swimming fish. I imagined it was a painting of ink bamboo, and I really saw a painting. When the breeze picks up, the shadows of the leaves blow, and the painting turns into a living painting. With such resilience, and the ability to arouse my imagination in such a way, I fell in love with oleander.
For many, many years, I walked in and out under such oleanders. At first I was short and had to look up to see the flowers. Later, I gradually grew taller, and the oleander gradually became shorter in my eyes. When I could see the flowers at eye level, I left home.
I left home, passed many years, and traveled to many places. I have seen oleanders in various places but was not impressed.
Two years ago, I visited Myanmar. After several days of meetings in Yangon, many friends from Myanmar enthusiastically accompanied us to visit Bagan, the ancient capital in northern Myanmar. This place is famous for its pagodas and is known as the "City of Ten Thousand Pagodas". It is said that there were indeed ten thousand pagodas back then. Today, although the number is not that large, looking around, you can see jagged towers clustering in the sky, emerging from the ground one by one, like the mountains of Yangshuo or the stone forests of Yunnan. They are like bamboo shoots springing up after the rain. As the old saying goes, the difference is even worse.
Although the flowers, plants and trees are still green, it is winter after all, and the weather is desolate and cold.
However, right here, in front of the building where we live, I unexpectedly discovered my old friend Oleander. Each one was almost as tall as a building, so I didn't even recognize them at first. There are more flower colors than those in China. In addition to red and white, remember there are also yellow. The leaves are greener than I have seen before, like green wax, and the flowers bloom on high branches, more like patches of red clouds, clusters of white snow, and blossoming yellow clouds. The lush greenery and lush greenery are eye-catching, forming a strong contrast with the desolate and cold ancient city.
I walk in and out under such oleander every day. In the evening, I leaned on the railing upstairs with my Burmese friends and talked about various issues, the history of Bagan, the cultural exchanges between China and Burma, and the Paukphaw friendship between the Chinese and Burmese peoples. At this time, the ancient pagodas in the distance gradually faded into the dusk, but the nearby ancient pagodas were brightly illuminated by electric lights, making them look like a fantasy land on the spiritual mountain. I can reach out to the fence and grab the top branches of the oleander. The fragrance of flowers floats up from below to the upper floors, seeming to make the friendship between China and Myanmar even more fragrant.