When a family marries their daughter, in addition to the general dowry such as wardrobe and dressing table, there is also a big flower bed to accompany her.
This big flower bed was painted by a master from other places. Looking at the master's progress, the master was afraid that he would not be able to catch up with the time, so he invited me to draw other dowry.
Master, the teacher who painted flowers, looks ten years older than me, with white skin, a pointed nose, a little foreign flavor and a wrinkled hat. Later, the tone of his speech seemed to be Subei accent.
I was surprised to see the picture he painted on the flower bed.
The flower bed is like a big cabinet, and the facade is like a bridge opening, which is half moon-shaped, so the locals call it a rolled-up portal bed.
As soon as I stepped into the living room, I was greeted by a big wave with the words "hit the water in the middle, stop the flying boat" written next to it. I learned it vividly, but it was a bit confusing.
This is painted on the right side of the shutter door of the flower bed, and the corresponding left side is a red plum blooming on the ice cliff with its head held high. The book says "She will laugh among the flowers when the mountains bloom", which is also very lively and vivid.
I was surprised because it was not appropriate to draw such content on the flower bed, and it was painted by a real painter, which made me far behind and admired.
And the couplets on both sides of the shutter door make me feel ridiculous. Most people criticize "dragons and phoenixes are auspicious" and so on with the phrase "red plums bear more fruits, bamboo bears more grandchildren".
However, this man is "the four seas are turbulent and angry, and the five continents are turbulent and thunderous". He criticized "fighting privately and approving repairs".
In private, my master asked me to talk to the teacher who painted flowers and told him to paint more flowers, birds and flowers instead of waves and ice cubes.
Although I promised, how should I tell him? I don't know him very well. I didn't say it after all.
I sleep upstairs with him at night. The floor upstairs hasn't been paved yet, only a few boards have been temporarily laid on the beam.
He and I spread the floor on a plank. There is no bed, only a mat with straw.
We'll cover a quilt.
He got up as soon as he lay down, lit a candle and said he wanted to see if there was a coffin, saying that he was most afraid of coffins. He walked upstairs with a candle in his hand, but in the end he didn't see the coffin.
When I asked him where he came from, his words suddenly became incomprehensible, and I didn't understand them for a long time. I suspect that he has taken refuge here.
At that time, the Cultural Revolution was deepening, one movement after another, and the string of class struggle was getting tighter and tighter.
He may have got into trouble and escaped. In order to survive, I went to a remote village to make a living. So I stopped asking.
At that time, there was no entertainment outside, but I usually sat there after dinner and chatted with my host family or those wooden teachers for a while and then fell asleep.
But I also met singers several times, which filled me with happiness. The lyrics are the "local products" in our area, which are a little similar to those in the north, but all the people who say big books are spoken in vernacular.
The lyrics are rhyming, basically seven words and one sentence, rhyming, like poetry, catchy. It is said to be lyrics, but it doesn't sound like singing. It's a recitation, but it seems a bit like singing. I think the accurate statement should be chanting.
There are also some props, such as gongs, drums, bamboo boards, etc., as the beat accompaniment when singing lyrics.
A lyricist is called a lyricist, but he is respected as a gentleman in person and is generally blind. But there are people who are not blind. I met them once.
That is a young man not much older than me, thin and small, with tight eyes. A dozen villagers crowded in the central scroll and stared at him uniformly.
At first, he knocked on the drum board, took a long drink, made a few opening remarks, and then said that today we will sing a song about Lei Feng, a good student of Chairman Mao.
So an uncle in the seat spoke and said that it was not necessary. They were all family members.
At this time, his eyes, which had been slightly closed, suddenly opened a little gap and swept over to me. Some people say that this is a painting teacher, not from above.
So he is not blind. But he insisted on singing how Lei Feng did good deeds and sent a lost old lady home, and then began to sing how Mrs. Chen fought against the snake demon.
Later, it was a little inconvenient to find that he had a leg, which may be a sequela left by polio. No wonder he learned to sing, even though he is not blind. I can't help admiring how he climbed such a high mountain.
2011May 7, 23: 04