Yu Xiang adapted from Han·Xian/Original - Clove Memory
Reading Dai Wangshu's poem - "Yu Xiang"
Notes on the short story
Encountering light sorrow in the rain, the gentle memories of my youth are buried in the deep alleys of the Jiangnan water town. It's like a pot of boiled old wine held in the palm of your hand in winter. The longer it goes, the more mellow the aroma...
At night, hold a cigarette and bring back your wandering thoughts when the breath is thick. . As a result, the figure that had not retreated in my mind for a long time became clearer and still aura...
The high courtyard wall squeezed the sky into a slender seam, and the blue sky lost that The parts are endless, but appear monotonous and lifeless. Clouds never stay in this alley, they float in leisurely and pass away in a hurry. The windows of each house facing the alley are tightly separated from the outside world by a bamboo curtain. The old bamboo slats are no longer fresh green, but have gradually turned yellow, like blank old photos, not Nostalgic, but it records the withering of memory. I live in this lifeless deep alley. As a student from an art college, I am lucky to be able to rent a relatively spacious single room like this. Even if my travel is not convenient, I am lucky.
The landlord is a kind old woman who plants several potted lilacs in her small two-meter-square yard. The light purple flowers are weak and peaceful. Accompanied by the breeze in the humid air, the shallow sadness ripples out in circles. And I, as if infected by this, become prone to complaining and frustration.
Art needs to be promoted, but as I am about to graduate, my future is still unclear. When my inspiration gradually ebbs due to too much melancholy, this sad mood has successfully captured me completely. . The pride and vigor that he once had have also been completely wiped away. I looked at those lilac plants all day long, feeling dazed and sighing, and then fell asleep due to sleepiness until dawn the next day.
The rain in Jiangnan has always been extremely dense, but this kind of just the right drizzle is rare. When my landlord came back from shopping for groceries, he lovingly urged me to go out for a walk. Even if I took a walk in the alley, it would be better than hunching over a book all day long.
"You didn't do anything, just think about things outside. Go out for a walk, today's rain is good!" She said with a smile, her wide navy blue clothes had a weathered look, Thick feeling. This reminded me of my mother at home. Even though her clothes were completely different, she still had a warm glow on her face that made me feel infinite attachment. I couldn't bear to brush off her good intentions, so I had to get up and step into the alley.
A thick layer of moss spreads flatly on the mottled walls, and the deep and light colors reflect a green light on the gray walls. Although the rain is small, after several days of accumulation, it has gradually penetrated into the wall. The water stains show different patterns. Where they are connected to the moss, there is a faint ink color, and the passing light green is hazy. And beautiful.
I put away the oil-paper umbrella, looked up at the sky in the gap, stretched out my right hand, and raised it upward, trying to open the edge further, but in vain.
I suddenly wanted to get out of this alley, no, I really wanted to.
I hurriedly walked to the other end of the alley, which led to the lively street market.
After turning a corner, the light yellow oil-paper umbrella suddenly appeared in front.
Under the umbrella is a white cheongsam.
The cut is perfect, the buttons are lilac, and the sleeve edges are the same color. There are no complicated patterns or decorations on the short sleeves, but they perfectly express the whiteness and softness of the arms. There is a little lavender embroidery under the collar, which cannot be seen clearly from a distance. Further down, there is an elegant figure. The hem of the skirt was ankle-length, and there were a few embroideries on the corners that were similar to those on the neckline. As she came closer, I could recognize them as lilac flowers. The embroidery work is excellent, with some reserved and shy emotions melted into it, oh, it also seems to be sad.
Getting closer, I took a few steps faster and faced her head-on.
The beautiful oval face, the curvature of the lower jaw is smooth and gentle, and upward, are the lightly pursed lips, showing a light pink without rouge, the cheeks are white and have lost some color; the nose is that of an ancient lady Typical of being small and delicate; the eyelashes are slightly drooping, long and straight, densely covering a pair of clear red phoenix eyes; the eyebrow color of indigo is curved, like the sad waxing moon in the middle of the night. The cute and thick black eyebrow-length bangs were gently stirred by the wind, blowing a faint scent of lilac. The long and straight hair is gently pulled up by a hosta, and the locks hang down on the chest, showing the easy-going and tenderness of Jiangnan women.
We looked at each other under the oil-paper umbrella, and then passed each other. Her lowered eyebrows touched my long-awaited capture of beauty. I turned around and saw her disappearing lightly like a figure in a painting. A dilapidated fence.
Like a light purple cloud, walking through the lonely rain alley in the sad song of rain, like a purple lilac, leaving a sad and shallow fragrance, giving me this beautiful, A romantic, dream-like encounter.
I walked out of the alley.
A month later, "Rain Lane·Floating Shadows" caused a sensation in the art world.
That person, that shadow, that lilac-like girl.
That rain, that fragrance, that miraculous encounter.