The village where Duanxi River flows through
If it were not for a pile of stones related to the Tang, Song, Yuan, Ming and Qing Dynasties, this mountain would not be so famous.
If it weren’t for a clear and sweet stream, this stone would not have been transformed into a Duan Inkstone.
When this stone became a royal possession and a desk treasure of great poets such as Ouyang Xiu, Duanzhou's reputation spread throughout the country and abroad faster than a gust of wind.
This mountain has a very unpleasant name: Lanke Mountain. There is a very nice stream in the mountains: Duanxi.
The place where Duanxi River flows not only nourishes the stones, but also nourishes the flowers, plants and trees inside and outside the mountains, and the people at the foot of the mountains. The grass sparrow flowers are in bloom, and even the tits in the forest know that spring is here. When the branches are covered with wild persimmons, like red clouds falling from the sky, the autumn wind will run down the village and tell the villagers: Autumn is here.
This village has a very common name: Dakeng. The village population may have been very small originally, but due to thousands of years of wars, Duanzhou was a refuge behind Guangzhou, and the population was like weeds, growing more and more. Today, Dakeng has a population of more than 7,000, divided into four major surnames: Huang, Chen, Liang, and Liu. Wading from the bank of the creek where Duanxi River flows, I reached the entrance of the old village. Along the way, the ancestral halls of the four surnames came into my sight one by one. Next to Chen's ancestral hall, there is a private school. The plaque on the door reads "Yanfeng Private School". In those days, there was a great reputation for books here. How many children of Dakeng folks were admitted to the Jinshi Examination and bid farewell to the clear Duanxi water. Become the pride of the village.
Leaving the private school and walking through a winding, deserted alley, a fish pond as big as several acres appeared. To the south of the pond, there are all modern new buildings; to the north of the pond, ancient blue brick houses and pot-style ancestral halls line its banks. The water in the pond is as clear as a mirror, trees and houses are reflected in the water, and the green mountains in the distance are poetic and picturesque, and the scenery is intoxicating. It turns out that this is the place where the Liu family lives.
On a sunny morning, even though it was a weekend, the village was sparsely populated. In the old village behind the village, except for a few old people living alone, there are almost no young people. In the old days, the alleys were overgrown with weeds. If it weren't for the hot sunshine, I would have lost the courage to walk alone. I guess in a village of 7,000 people, perhaps more than two-thirds of the people go out to work, right? Otherwise, if it were a big village, why would it be so sparsely populated? If the village is compared to a forest, the old village is an abandoned bird's nest. The locked door not only closes the spring scenery, but also countless winters and stories.
A few years ago, as a native of Dakeng, you told me a story about a bird's nest. Now, has your new bird's nest been completed? Is the house filled with your laughter?
Duanxi brings outstanding people to a village. You are one of the people who have been admitted to a key university. Like your ancestors, you left the land where your ancestors shed their blood and sweat and became a shining star in the night sky.
Today I revisited the old place in your village. I became rational and deep. The hesitation and sadness of the past are no longer visible in my eyes. I came not only because of the complex that I couldn’t let go, but also because of the urge to explore your village. This time, I went further. If I could find a slender stone path leading to Lanke Mountain behind the village, I would You will even step on it without hesitation, walking up the mountain along the path your ancestors used to collect firewood and dig inkstones. I can’t expect to meet you in your village, just as I can’t expect the stream to flow backwards. Your old words and smiles are a poison that poisons my feelings. Although the poison often relapses on the cold and windy nights, I still live without regrets. For a previous encounter.
The clear stream flows like a lingering song year after year. Listening to it, visitors from afar suddenly burst into tears. I don’t know when such unforgettable memories will end! Or one day, even if we meet each other, we don’t know each other, how can we be so embarrassed!
Farewell and wave gently to your village! The lens is heavy, this early autumn has been fruitful, but because of you, this day is a bit cold.
Gaoyao Ancient Village, a stream of clear dreams
In the season when the new crops are green again, I visited an ancient village called Dakeng with awe.
Some people say that the ancient villages in Zhaoqing are like the stars in the sky. As long as you walk into any village, behind the new buildings, there must be old houses with blue tiles and brick walls.
The excellence of Zhaoqing people is that the old houses are not demolished. The ancestral foundation is preserved, which not only inherits the hard work of several generations, but also retains the children’s childhood dreams, and allows the rural people to Humanistic history can be completely preserved.
Therefore, it is not unreasonable for me to describe my respect for the village as awe.
The village in Zhaoqing is not my village. A wanderer from a foreign land visits other people’s villages so abruptly and presumptuously. I hope the souls wandering in the village will not blame me for disturbing their clear dreams. , it should be noted that every time I pass an ancient house, I must put my hands together and bow to express my piety and awe. I arrive only with a lonely and helpless heart. The stream in Dakeng is so clear that it seems to be flowing from a prose called "Dreams Are Hometown Waters".
Of course, its source is a continuous mountain with beautiful mountains and clear waters, which is destined to have outstanding people and places in Dakeng. It is destined that the women here are smart and virtuous. Women who have poetry and calligraphy in their belly are even more admirable and admired.
The stream sings moving songs and flows through the village. The village has as long a history as it has. How many elders of the village walked on the stream, faced the sun, went to work in the fields, went to the mountains to collect firewood, and returned under the watch of the setting sun; how many women washed away the lead by the Huanyi stream. In the Huang family, is there a delicate and pretty girl who came out from here and studied hard in a poor life, but in the end she became as talented as Zhuo Wenjun? I once thought, before you are married and I am not married, we will meet and smile, and we will be married. He and I read together and watched the moon and stars together every night.
The dream from the ancient village is a bit lonely and desolate. It would be better not to tell it, but it would be a bit sad to tell it.
This is the ancestral hall of the Huang family. It is very grand, indicating that it is a famous surname. It is a custom in Guangfu that when a son marries his wife, he or she will go to the ancestral hall to hold a wedding banquet, which is very lively and bustling, not only for relatives, friends and neighbors, but also for the ancestors in the ancestral hall. There is no such custom for marrying a daughter. Daughters belong to other families. If they marry, they will throw away the water. They have no right to inherit the old house at home, but raising parents requires no less responsibility.
As a daughter, you should always hold a willing heart and pretend to be very happy when you go back to your parents' home. Of course, you can't miss out on the big and small bags. It would be better if you can marry a golden turtle son-in-law. As soon as the luxury car stopped in the village, my parents’ faces lit up. Therefore, people with high education and low education want to marry a rich man, and a very obedient rich man. The sun is shining and the weather is good when setting foot on the village road.
What do the two old people in the picture think? I didn’t talk to them, so I don’t know their inner thoughts. But from their figures, what I read was a feeling of loneliness for many years.
At that time, young people were chasing glitz and longing for the feasting and feasting. They were left behind in the village, and their hearts were full of vicissitudes and calmness. Or, there is not much time left, but they are so calm. Maintaining this state of mind in their twilight years is a supreme state. They have also had love, they have had flowers blooming yesterday, they have the memory of surfing on a boat on the Xijiang River, and they have the turbulent youthful passion. Now, they only savor the rest of their lives in a book, and all the things that pass by the door. Strangers, please go your own way!
The road is paved with grass and stone, and the weather is windy and rainy.
Grass and people have a dialectical relationship. When you come, it hides; when you go, it grows.
How many footprints have walked through this ancient alley? The once noisy days are now gone forever, like a wanderer's forgetfulness.
Everyone has a period of forgetfulness that is true or false, whether intentional or not, such as a love that does not last forever, and becomes a stranger as soon as you turn around, and you will never meet again in life or death, and you will no longer care about it. , miss you no more.
Every time I visit the ancient village, I feel that I am not hunting for novelties and admiring the scenery, but a painful practice.
I am not a psychologist, and I will not dig into the love history buried deep in the village.
I am an ascetic, I touch the soul of the village from its dilapidation and desolation, suffering or abandonment.
I was sweating profusely and trembling, walking through every deep alley alone, facing the gloom and desolation that many people don’t want to face.
Only when these little lives appeared under the banyan tree at the entrance of the village, I breathed a sigh of relief. I love life, love the sunshine, and love the potential torrent in my heart, which is the endless river of love and beauty.
Through my trips to ancient villages again and again, I have learned to understand the emptiness and mistiness of life. All prosperity is nothing more than the blooming of spring flowers, and all love is nothing more than the fragrance of flowers that once existed. Whether you are willing or not, you must go on the long road of life resolutely, put down your inner baggage, and move forward lightly, waiting for the front and for the still cool breeze.
July, repairing defects
I got involved in painting during my youthful years, and later studied under Professor Li, who was a disciple of Li Xiongcai. From then on, I fell into a dream of landscapes, and the ink painting enveloped me. life path.
A few years ago, I followed Professor Li to Gaoyao, Zhaoqing, to sketch from life. He visited Li Xiongcai Art Museum, Shangqing Bay, Hebian Village, Xianggang Village and other places, but the teacher did not take me to his hometown. , which is Li Xiongcai’s hometown, Kengwei Village, Baitu Town, Gaoyao City.
This little regret is like a fish that has slipped through the net. On the lake that time travels through, you have to catch it yourself. In order to put an end to this regret, I walked into Kengwei Village in such a turbulent July.
Oh, here I come, the hometown of the great man!
Under such a tall gatehouse, villagers were drying grain on the road casually. The harvest of early rice had begun, which became a scenery in the countryside in July. On the village road leading from the gatehouse, old trees were seen from time to time. The branches are vigorous and powerful, as if they have stepped out of Teacher Li's paintings.
At the entrance of the village are two huge ponds with sparkling waves, but unfortunately the wind does not bring fresh breath.
Arriving at the entrance of the alley in the village, the scenery gradually becomes better. There is also poetry in front of the new house, with bamboo fences and vegetable gardens, melon sheds and bean trellises, and cars parked under the trees, a leisurely and relaxing afternoon.
The old well is located at the entrance of the village. The villagers still use the well water. Those who do laundry and peanuts, and some people are washing a large handful of whooping flowers. On the young leaves, the feeling of spring is still lingering, and the round flowers are stained with The branches were full, and the woman said that Bainianhong is a herbal tea that can be used to make medicinal soup. It has the effect of relieving heat and detoxifying. This is the first time I have heard of this. A small but cute child was sitting by the well railing. He was quiet and frail. He must be a descendant of the Li family.
Above the ancient well, there is an alley with several flagpole stones erected. Judging from the text on the stone tablets, they are all inscriptions about the official status of the ancestors of Kengwei. Someone was happily introducing the glory of the ancestors of the village, but I was silent and speechless. No matter how many officials there are, they are still just officials, but Teacher Li Xiongcai is a master of art, and he has a place in history books.
Teacher Li Xiongcai passed away in 2001. He left behind priceless art treasures. If a penniless homeless man on the street got one of these paintings, he would be able to live without food and clothing for the rest of his life. worry. As the heir to this wealth, Teacher Li's son donated a large number of his father's works to the National Art Museum of China, which shows that Teacher Li had a kind and honest family and his descendants were knowledgeable.
The old house where Teacher Li lived in his youth is located high up in the village. There is a courtyard in front of the door. The sun shines in the courtyard, making it appear warm and quiet. During his lifetime, Teacher Li must have returned to his hometown every year to offer a bouquet of fragrance to his parents and grandparents in the house. Then he would sit down in front of the stone table in the yard, make a pot of tea, and chat with the passing neighbors. Teacher Li is loyal, kind and approachable, and the farmer's blood flowing in his bones allows him to walk closely with the people. But his life was so extraordinary. When he was young, he studied painting with Gao Jianfu, the founder of the Lingnan School of Painting. Did his ink spill on the peony and begonias at the Spring Sleep Painting Academy? He also studied in Japan and learned the unique art knowledge of the island country. Did the Japanese cherry blossoms ever fall off his painting tools? Throughout his life, he took teaching and educating people as his own mission, and his talents were all over the world. When my teacher was studying at the Guangzhou Academy of Fine Arts, I studied painting with Teacher Li and formed a deep friendship between teacher and student. Time flies, so many beautiful past events have gone as far away as the flowing water in the east, life is like a song, only the white clouds linger in the sky for thousands of years.
A woman said to me, do you want to go in and take a look? You have to buy a ticket to go in. I declined, maybe it would be more interesting to leave it to my imagination.
As soon as I set foot on this land, I realized how special and extraordinary the village is. The village raised Li Xiongcai and can be described as a geomantic treasure.
I stayed at the door for a long time.
Appreciating Teacher Li’s works is like stepping into his mind and experiencing the majestic mountains and rivers in his heart and a touch of nostalgia.
I have also copied Mr. Li's paintings, and I feel that his paintings are rich and majestic, and his emotions are delicate and simple. The paintings are like the people he is, which are valuable qualities of a painter. Nowadays, I am also writing on a piece of rice paper for landscape painting. I use my own pen and ink language to talk about life, express my dreams, and express my respect for Teacher Li. Today's painting world is no longer so sacred, just because the wind of utilitarianism has disturbed the banners on the altar. My original intention is to be myself and be able to maintain my loneliness.
Walking along the long village road and coming to the pond, I found that the sun-loving flowers were blooming in full bloom. This kind of flower is called noon flower, and it will close after noon. At noon, the hard-working people are going home to escape the scorching sun. Noon flowers bloom most beautifully at this time! Why do you think?
An old woman invited me in for tea in a restaurant in my hometown. Compared with the indifference in the city, I was moved by the warmth and friendliness of the folks. I simply had lunch there.
When the autumn wind blows, you might as well come back next time, bring a brush and a drawing board and rice paper to depict the splendor of Xiongcai’s hometown.
Bagua’s deeds
During last year’s National Day holiday, the expressway was free, avoiding the peak traffic jams. I finally traveled in four days and benefited from the country’s favor.
There is a wish that has been hidden for a long time, and there is a relationship that is so fragile that when I walked into the ancient village of Gaoyao, Licha, under the guidance of the navigation system, the Mid-Autumn Festival wind had been waiting for me under the banyan tree at the entrance of the village for a long time. , eager to walk around this winding ancient alley again and again, accompanied by the autumn wind.
There are so many wooden signs with the names of lanes, wells and banyan trees in the ancient village nailed to the outer wall of an old house at the entrance of the ancient village: Shangrenli, Xingrenli, Chunheli, Roushunli, Juheli, Yuxiuli, Sanxingrong, Zhoujiajing... these words contain Confucian thoughts. They are antique and their connotations are enough to make people think about them for a long time. But is this wooden sign pressed in the wrong place? It was more like Jesus being crucified. The pain was not only the sign, but also the ancient house and my mood coming from such a long distance.
Licha, Licha, this village planted in the land of western Guangdong has been growing for hundreds of years without even realizing it.
Over the past few hundred years, how many people have grown old after their lush youth, like new leaves on a tree turning into yellow leaves, falling in the autumn wind, and then new life comes out! There is no reincarnation in life, only new life, baptized by the sun, moon, wind and rain. Everyone thinks they are very important when they are alive, but when they look back, they are just a grain of yellow sand in history. Even if they work hard like Li Cha’s ancestors Jinshi, so far, there is only one well where people know his glory, but how many people remember his name? How many people are willing to ask for his name?
The Jinshi Master is enshrined in the ancestral hall set up for him by his descendants. There are many ancestral halls in Licha. Entering from Sanxingrong is Suiyuanli, which has a nice name. Passing Suidejing, you will reach the center of the village with dense ancestral halls.
The ancestral hall is almost the most beautiful building in the village. There are large pot ears built on both sides of the roof, which is a typical Guangfu cultural building.
In the back alley in the autumn, the sun was shining brightly, but it could only shine on half of the walls of the houses, so it seemed lonely and deserted. I put my palms together and looked up at one of the ancestral halls, and saw that the main hall was neatly enshrined. The dead grass rustled in the wind at the ancestor's memorial tablet, and one or two sparrows flew by, leaving behind a string of chirping sounds.
Will you come to the village where sparrows often visit? Of course, tourists are not as attentive as sparrows. This is for sure. Even though there is a Bagua platform high up in the village for people to transfer, there are not many visitors. This is not a bad thing for the ancient village. The precipitation of history requires tranquility. Those who are willing to turn around You can enjoy this time alone while strolling through the winding ancient alleys.
Many people in the world like liveliness and glitz, but how many people know how to appreciate scenery as quiet as a river flowing under the moonlight?
When I felt tired, I found a place to sit and rest under a banyan tree, next to a pond. The water in the pool is like a big blue scarf, surrounding the Bagua-shaped village. Near Xingrenli, there should have been a suspension bridge in ancient times, which was the only way in and out of the village. In the turbulent years, it was a life-threatening barrier. , now replaced by a small cement bridge. No matter how history evolves, the bravery and unity of the villages cannot be forgotten. What remains of those blue brick houses are more than just the echoes of peasant children crying about hunger and cold?
The people of Licha today are doing very well. They not only know how to apply for an ancient village sign from the above, but also set up a card to charge. Maybe this small ticket can not only support a few people, but also manage the village. The sanitary environment of the ancient village. They also made inkstones, rice urns, dishes, pottery pots, wind cabinets, stone mills, rakes, gongs and drums, and bronze wash basins used by the ancestors of each family into a display hall for people to visit. If you are interested , you can also buy one or two pieces to keep forever.
I once had the idea of ??buying an inkstone, maybe it was used by Master Jinshi, but if I think about it carefully, what if Master Jinshi is unhappy? The cultural relics in the village should stay in the village.
Yanzhou Dreaming
This is a land of blossoming flowers. History is a monument among the flowers. After being wiped by the eyes, it is not stained with even a particle of dust.
The inkstone thrown down by Master Bao turned into this island. I have no doubt that it is as thick as a historical record. Its bones are the hard texture of inkstone, and after being moistened by the water of the Xijiang River, The thick sandy soil covering the inkstone has nurtured the creatures on the island and has been passed down from generation to generation. Those who fly in the sky, walk on the ground and swim in the water have completed their historical mission and blended into the air of the island. The body that becomes the flower forges the spirit of the island.
Walking into the streets and alleys, pastoral streets, river embankments and swamps, ancestral halls and old houses in deserted villages, I encountered this spirit everywhere. I put my palms together to express my sincere admiration.
And to you, how can I thank you? We met in a virtual garden, so we met and walked into the spring island.
This is an appointment from spring. What was once a vicissitudes of life is now intoxicating. Along the alley paved with bluestones, there are roses blooming quietly on the lonely wall. Your voice is like the spring breeze quietly blowing through my heart. At this moment, my eyes are moist. Because of you, I discovered that spring is like a lovely girl, charming and sunny. The clear river water flows through the beautiful land of Duanzhou. The daughters raised by the water and soil are passionate and lingering. Their smooth skin color is like the fish of the Xijiang River.
I have never concealed my love for the fish in the Xijiang River. I walk along the river again and again. Even if I am riding a majestic horse, I often cast my eyes on the river like a green belt, imagining that it is in the wild. On a moonlit night, a carp would jump up onto the river and turn into a beauty. Holding my delicate hands, we walked together along the long beach, with two pairs of deep and shallow footprints clinging to each other intimately.
I told Carp that if I could own a house with a brick and wood structure and a vegetable garden at the door, I would spend the rest of my life working and studying here, teaching a few primary school students like Mr. Chen Baisha. , turning his half-life knowledge into a pile of charcoal fire in the cold night, illuminating a strange land. However, after saying that, I was a little confused.
In this era of exam-oriented education and utilitarianism, who would like Xiaoxiao Muyu’s elegance in reciting scriptures? Perhaps the ancestors who are sleeping beside the pastoral stream still have an endless spirit of learning, but are their figures still wandering around in the dilapidated academy at midnight? At this thought, I suddenly lost my courage. I must know that the hope of the future lies in the flowers under the spring sunshine. When the flowers wither, the full fruits wander around, and some seeds go to other places. Those vacant ancestral homes have become a stop for migratory birds during the holidays.
I didn’t see any migratory birds. At the pier and in a simple little restaurant, I met a group of birds from the Pearl River Delta. They wore the red vests of newspaper reporters, with rosy cheeks and crisp voices. In spring, I am jealous of the flowers. Will they be like you and me when they go back, typing on the computer keyboard and writing a poem dedicated to the spring of the island?
I may not have the chance to read the poems of the little birds, but it is fate to meet them. In the fate, there is spring, there is you, there is every plant and tree on the island, and there is the memory of my distant Duanzhou. A story without a carrier is as hazy as the distant mountains at this moment, with all kinds of twists and turns. It’s hard to say goodbye, and the tears are endless. It’s nothing more than a spring dream tonight. Because of you, I am willing not to think so much. I just want to plant my poor dreams on the island, throw away all the worries that life has imposed on me, put away half of my old worries, and in this quiet time, read, paint and write. If crisp footsteps sound at the door, it must be you who are gentle and pleasant. I will collect the clear springs on the island and make you a pot of Dancong tea from the mountains in eastern Guangdong. Because of you, I will open the door of the farmhouse, let in the spring breeze that knocks on the door, and send you the fragrance of rape flowers.
From now on, there is a fate that will be deeply rooted in my memory. Because of the warmth of spring and the blooming of flowers, because of your ancient and warm chivalrous feelings, I was in the arms of my mother in Duanzhou, which made me happy and warmed my eyes. This life will last forever. Don't forget.
Shangqing Bay
Ever since I visited Shangqing Bay, I couldn’t let go of the ancient riverside village and its slender stone path. In the dream, the work scrawled with a brush is the old house in Shangqing Bay. Along the peaks along the Xijiang River, it twists and turns like a clear and clear flute. It is lingering and euphemistic, bringing the style of Shangqing Bay into the heart. The veins of my heart are gentle, and my heart flowers bloom in the winter after autumn.
Since I couldn’t remember the path under the bridge that day, I had to park the car on a slope near Shangqingwan Primary School. I was afraid that the car would slide when I left. I was careful and padded the wheels. stone.
Going down the stairs, life will give you many surprises. I saw a majestic stone wall. The lines of the stone are sharp and fresh, as if they were drawn with a brush. Take a look at my recent work "Cloud Viewing" Just know.
At the corner, a dilapidated gatehouse suddenly appeared. Entering from the gatehouse, you can see that the tile roofs of the houses on the lower floor have been covered with tough and drought-resistant weeds, and the roof of one house has collapsed. The owner must have left his old residence and lived in a higher place with more beautiful scenery. However, I really want to untie the many knots in my heart. Are the aboriginal residents who sleep at sunrise and sunset with the sound of waves and wind on their backs every day, also full of illusions about life like me? When I type poetic words on the keyboard and use pen and ink to render the beautiful scenery from life, are you using fishing nets to express the hymn of life? On a calm day, take a boat out to catch the delicious fish and shrimp on the Xijiang River? Have you ever felt a touch of sadness like me, melancholy for a bird that has gone far away or a white cloud that has flown away?
Perhaps, the simple and hard-working aborigines will not be people like me. I am so addicted to the fragrance of flowers that I can't help myself. They are more using their hands and feet to create a well-off life. How much sweat has this stone road shed on the Aboriginal people? They let happiness wear on their children like clothes, and accidentally turned into a pair of wings and flew to the big city opposite. On the weekends, they might come back again, bringing a group of colleagues and friends with them. The camera traced the traces of the history of Shangqing Bay and was attracted by the beautiful Catholic church, leaving behind photos of youthful spirits.
Unlike them, I silently stopped on the walkway of a gatehouse, spread out rice paper, and expressed my emotions with pen and ink. An old man with a back bent into a bow approached my sketchbook. Unfortunately, her eyes could not see clearly. She said she was in her eighties. Watching the old man slowly leave, I think one day I will be this old, but when that day comes, what will I think of? Who do you think of? Which scenery comes to mind?
After painting the old house, I came to the riverside. The sun was shining brightly and the scenery was brightly colored. Several small boats were parked quietly on the shore, and an old man was sitting leisurely under the big banyan tree. Not far away, at the Xijiang Railway Bridge, a train passed by with "clanging" and "clanging". A very poetic morning, suitable for sadness, lovelorn and dreaming. If you don’t have a dream, don’t deliberately knit. Look at the shrimp pots on the boat. They are empty now. Happiness is not so easy to find. It requires your labor and dedication, investment and luck, as well as fate.
I drew two more pictures and followed the stone path before leaving Shangqing Bay.
Shangqingwan, will you remember me? This loner who comes again and again, filled with confusion and helplessness?