For a long time, I didn't understand how the west wind on the white road became a scene of ancient Taihu Lake.
I never thought about investigating Lu Xifeng. In my deep memory, there is an oil mill, a blacksmith's shop, a commune-run repair shop, and some flourishing ancient locust trees on the roadside of the intersection. When my father led me across the estuary, I passed under Ximen Bridge. The road is not deep, but it is crystal clear. The river is covered with several stone piers for crossing the river. My tall father put me under his arm and walked through it in a few steps. Then we went to a familiar family behind the repair shop for tea. Father said that this place is called Muliangting.
Bathing in the gazebo is very vague in my memory. Even a little dim. Gloomy comes from familiar houses. You have to cross a narrow alley to enter the house. There is a wind in the roadway, which makes people shudder. The familiar house in the alley is very old and the hall is very dark. I saw my acquaintance and my father talking to each other with a pipe and yellow smoke. The fireworks were obviously dark. As for me, I drank a pot of tea on the table and dropped the last few drops of water from the spout to my mouth.
It seems that I have never been to the gazebo since. I really don't know when it disappeared completely. I never heard the name Mu Liang Ting again. Walking back and forth through Ximen Bridge, I only saw that the river was decreasing year by year. At first, I saw stone piers, women squatting beside them in the morning and evening, and some broken sunshine jumping on the river. Later, I only saw a few dry riverbeds, which were covered with weeds and garbage dumped on the riverbeds.
However, on this early summer night, I was browsing a message and suddenly jumped out of the word "West Wind on the Road". It appears in front of my eyes again and again, so that it really continues and diffuses in my mind. Makes me fidget, fidget. This anxiety and anxiety continued until the next afternoon, and I had to tidy up my trivial mood. Fortunately, the intersection is not far from the new county, and it takes half an hour.
On a hot afternoon, there are noisy voices everywhere. Of course, you will never see Mu Ting again when you stand at the bridge head of Ximen. Muliangting is the name of the alley. When did this alley start and how many years have it existed? There is no textual research. The west entrance of the alley is the ancient post road and post office. Walking in, there are bluestone slabs, white walls and tiles, jingtai street shops, lattice windows and wooden doors. On the edge of the high wall, there are green vines and bamboos leaning down, swaying fresh leaves ... The alley is very narrow and short, and it will come to an end after a while. The end of the alley extends to the wide floodplain of Malu River. On the beach are thin white sands, a few clumps of grass with yellow flowers, rows of weeping willows on the riverbank, and lush eight-hairy flowers on the edge of the embankment. Slowly flowing in the middle of the beach is the famous Malu River. When the Malu River came here, it formed a wide bend with swaying plants and colorful trees. In my meditation and thinking, this river is also a river for people. It comes from high mountains and valleys, but it flows through village after village calmly, like a scholar with a peaceful heart. But in ancient times, many literati crossed the river, wandered in alleys, walked through fields and paths of cottages, listened to or personally experienced stories that had already passed or just happened, and then left a few sentimental poems. In summer, the sand on the beach in the north gate shines in the sun and burns your feet. Taihu County, Hedong, is steaming hot in summer, steaming hot, as hot as a stove. At this time, a cool breeze blew in from the west of the lane and passed through the lane to dispel the hot summer heat. In autumn, the west wind always brings a few fallen leaves, either red or yellow, lying on the bluestone board in disorder.
This short alley, literally, is a pavilion bathed in cool breeze. The name of the alley pavilion shows the intentions of the ancients. I must have a coincidence. Pavilion is a building for people to rest, mostly with a roof and no walls. The alley has only walls and no roof. Its east-west direction determines that it will always accompany the west wind and never give up. This kind of companionship is a kind of lingering, a kind of love soaked in a long time. In those years of its existence, what happened and what did you swear?
We looked in the direction of the wind ... Back in the Tang and Song Dynasties, the smoke curled up and floated among the moss and old tiles. People live in alleys, busy, thriving, handed down from generation to generation, endless. At that time, the mouth of Malu River was the most prosperous place in the west of the county, with wide riverbed, dense water flow, busy ferries, crowded boats and cars, gathered merchants and galloping horses. Many people were detained here after the fatigue of horses and chariots. As a result, many discrete stories are circulated here. Many poems were written on the wall of the alley. The most spectacular is the summer night, when a cool breeze blows gently from the west. Under the bamboo forest, endless amorous feelings and poetry grow. Residents in the county and surrounding areas gathered on roads and rivers, rocking cattail fans, boating and swimming in winding river bends or alleys, and had extensive discussions. Behind him is a willow with eight hairs, swaying like waves in the moonlight, and fresh and bright clothes fluttering on the branches. A group of children catch fireflies on the riverbank, and Huo Ran, the countless fireflies living in the eight-hairy flowers, flies like stars.
The river on the road flows day and night, and ships come and go. Some spectators, moving a chair, sit on the wooden building in the alley, watching the boats running on the water, the fish downstream, the waves with a long history, the charming river bank and different people in the post office. Guess the identity of each character. Every character has a story, so there are stories circulating at the intersection every day.
The west wind is blowing leisurely People who sail and disembark will take a look at the people upstairs and then rush on. The curtains rolled up in the west wind. Is there a woman thinner than a yellow flower behind the hanging curtain, watching them go away or return?
Post horses come and go, and the post door is opened and closed. People and horses are just passing by in a hurry. Along the way from the Tang and Song Dynasties, how many stories happened, how many clouds were written and how many historical events were collected at the mouth of Malu River. Alleys describe history and rivers flow with life. During the Wanli period of the Ming Dynasty, one day, a spectator sitting in the attic opened the door and saw the dense water curtain. The river surged, overflowed the river bank and poured into the alley. Looking around, the whole South Gate Garden is a piece of yellow water.
The audience breathed a sigh of relief after the river receded. But he found that the boat washed away by the river never came back. The river is getting shallower and shallower, the riverbed is getting narrower and narrower, and the ferry has become a stone pier. There is a mottled boat on the beach, and soon green grass grows around it, as if to lift the boat from the ground. This experienced old ferryman sits alone in the bow every day. The estuary of the highway is becoming more and more deserted. It is said that the court has led the river to the east of the city.
The spectator sighed and fell like a fallen flower on the road and river, and then no one saw him again.
The ancient road and the west wind have always been a sad word.
So, does the west wind on the road mean the west wind crossing the street in the driveway, or does it mean that people gather at the intersection to cool off at night? Or both?
But I believe that the west wind on the road must represent a kind of natural divine beauty and poetic beauty on the earth here. I like wild flowers, herbs, trees, blue sky, white clouds, moonlight, fish and clear rivers. Only by combining tangible beauty with intangible beauty can we produce a desirable realm.
When Wang Dashu, a celebrity in Qing Dynasty, rode a thin horse to the mouth of Malu River, it was already sunset, and the sunset was like fire. A thousand-year-old road leads a horse, and the west wind is slender and the yellow sand is long. At night, there are still many people taking their wives and children to the estuary of the road to enjoy the cool. Therefore, Lu Xifeng once again influenced the feelings of this talented person in Taihu Lake. He wrote the words "Lu Xifeng often smells like rain". When Li Zhenjun, the top scholar, was in the forest, he often came to Muliangting Hotel in the mouth of Malu River to sell wine. Until the sun goes down and the moon rabbit rises, he is drunk.
Extension always means disappearance. All traditional and memorable things will always fade in time. Today, the intersection is still prosperous, and the bridge on Ximen Bridge is full of traffic. But the Malu River is as small as a stream. I can't find any traces of bathing in the gazebo, such as the west wind passing by, and I have nothing. Mu Liangting disappeared, together with the woman hiding behind the door curtain, the scholar by the river, the ancient road, the thin horse and the back pavilion ... they disappeared into a wide road and a pile of reinforced concrete. Like an old fallen leaf, I don't know where it was blown by the wind. Leaving only one story, one legend. This is not a gorgeous turn. This is a reincarnation with a dull pain. And I can only use my imagination to restore the magnificent scenery of the west wind on the road again and again. So, I heard the sound of the wind blowing through the roadway in the Tang Dynasty, the sound of the rain falling on the bluestone board in the Song Dynasty, the whisper hidden behind the door curtain, the whisper of elegant soil, and the sound of a porcelain falling on the square brick. I saw the spectators upstairs looking at me with their eyes, and the woman hiding behind the door curtain was secretly laughing because of my arrival. I sat on the threshold with a woman who became a grandmother and listened to her singing childhood songs over and over again. Then I went to a hotel and poured myself a drink. When I came to the side of the road with a faint hiccup, the light of the sunset had disappeared from the treetops. I took a fan handed me by the old man, lay on a bluestone board and put my legs into the river. Soon, the side was full of people. While listening to what they said seemed far away from me, I counted the stars in the sky. I completely forgot that I was just a passer-by.