Dream
When she recalled her childhood life, it was just like a dream! Wearing a black military uniform with gold lines, and a short saber, he was riding on a tall white horse, and when he was walking slowly on the seashore, he felt in his heart Full of magnificent pleasure, she had never thought that she was so quiet now, holding only a pen and writing the emotions in her fantasy.
?
She dressed as a boy until she was ten years old. Before she was ten years old, her father often took her to attend banquets where soldiers entertained people. When friends saw him, they all praised him and said, "What a brave little soldier!
How old are you this year?" My father agreed at first, and then smiled and said before leaving, "He is
My son, but also my daughter.”
She can play the marching drum and blow the rally trumpet. Know the mechanism in the Mauser gun.
It will also spin very large cannonballs into the cannon cavity. The unintentional training by her father in 5 or 6 years really turned her into a very fit little soldier.
What about other aspects? Things that girls usually like, she doesn't like at all.
This is no wonder for her. There were no other female companions around her. She accidentally saw several little girls from the village passing by at the foot of the mountain. They were wearing bright red and green clothes and wrapped in Very small feet. In a hurry, she had no way of knowing their ordinary life. And she didn't take these impressions to heart. A knife and a horse can last a lifetime! Girls' affairs are so trivial and boring! When the sea-exploring electric light shines on the vast sea
, it emits patches of cold light. Under the shadow of the lamp and the shadow of the flag, there are two rows of Shen Haoyingyi
officers, Amidst the sound of clanging swords, people neatly and solemnly raise their glasses together to wish China long live. How does this scene make people burst into generous tears of joy?
It’s time for her to wake up from this dream! Is life just a dream?
When I was ten years old, I returned to my hometown and put on girls' clothes. Among the sisters, I learned
the temperament of my daughter: five-color silk threads can be made into beautiful things. For work; for fragrance,
beautiful flowers should be placed on the head; mirrors should be used to take a look after putting on makeup; sitting among
people, I want to say some very delicate and gentle words; tears will fall from time to time. Girls always have a bit of a temper and a bit of a delicate look.
This is also very novel and a very nurturing environment for her - but her father gave her a saber
and it still hangs in front of the window all day long. Pulling out the sheath, the cold light hit her eyes, and she was stunned. The white horse, the coast, the soldiers with guns... there is endless sadness in the blur
Perplexity. The sisters called her from the window, but she didn't go out. After standing for a long time, I only shed a few tears of boredom.
Does she regret it? Maybe, but who knows! How did the life of a soldier create her temperament? At dusk, isn't the sound of the bamboo pipes blowing from the camp tent even more melancholy? Is it true that only girls can occupy the soft and gentle position in the world?
Moonlight night and starry night on the sea, when I stand alone on the terrace and lean on my gun with my head raised: under the heavy sky
Under the curtain, people are quiet, and the sea is also sleeping deeply - "Home beyond the sea and sky!" At this time< /p>
Is the feeling a poet’s or a soldier’s? It is the intersection of two tragic strands!
Besides a few boring heroic tears, what else is there? She is content with her situation!
If life is a circle-like cycle, it may go from "future" to "past"
But this is boring!
The profound impression of ten years left in her current life is only of a forceful nature
She still likes to watch the neat steps and listen to the tragic and solemn sounds. of military jigs.
But rather than saying that she likes to watch and listen, it is better to say that she is afraid of watching and listening.
The sword leaping on the horse, and she writing the pen and meditating were both the same person, but time separated these things
...
Childhood! Is it just a profound dream?
October 1, 1921.
(This article was originally published in the third issue of "Yanda Weekly" on March 10, 1923, and later
was included in the novel and essay collection "Past Events".
)