Every day at this time, the last sunset shines on the doorframe, and I will come back, driving the ox cart, driving the sheep and carrying firewood. Father, mother, brother and sister are all in the yard, and Lu Hua Chicken, the yellow dog, has not returned to the nest to rest. It's all the same dusk. A simple dinner brings the family together after a hard day's work-noodles, steamed bread, cabbage-and the dinner I can always catch is always late. The father leaned back, the mother sat on a small bench, the child squatted on clods and wood, and the empty bowl was placed on the ground without cleaning up. The family stayed quietly, and it was getting dark. Nobody could see anyone, but they stayed quietly. The oil lamp is in the house, and no one lights it. Nobody said a word.
Another evening, the setting sun was far away, covered by clouds, and did not shine on the door frame. The sky is low and heavy. A yard full of wind. Big branches and leaves, floating across the sky. As soon as the gate was opened and closed, it slammed shut. The stick on the top door fell to the ground. The family sat motionless in the yard. It's getting dark. It's getting dark We waited for this hour, and when it arrived, we were still waiting, waiting in the dark. Such as waiting for someone at home. It seems that the whole family is here. It seems that one of them didn't come back. Who didn't come back? The wind howled. Large branches and leaves drifted overhead one after another.
The wind opens the door for you and closes it for you.
Many years ago, when we were all here, we began to wait. At that time, we seem to have known that what can wait for us in the future is still ourselves who will sit quietly in the same dusk forever.
Whose shadow?
Liu Liangcheng
At that time, I liked to catch dragonflies in autumn afternoons. Dragonflies climbed motionless on the earth wall in the west, and I don't know where so many dragonflies came from. It seems that I have only seen a few in a summer, simply flying in the grass or crops, and then flying out of sight in an instant. Maybe in autumn, people cut all the crops in the field, and dragonflies have nowhere to fall, all of them fall into the village. In the afternoon, almost every family's west-facing wall is covered with dragonflies, and the sunset shines on their slender transparent wings, with different filaments on their slender tails. Sneak along the wall, press with your hand and grab one. I didn't struggle when I grabbed it. One caught it, and the others crawled quietly. If you can reach it, build a ladder and catch all the dragonflies on a wall. None of them flew away. It seems that the dragonfly is so obsessed with the sunshine at the moment, for fear that the warm time will fly away with a beat of its wings. Dragonflies fly around, and finally fly to an earthen wall in the sunset. People ran around and finally ran to a stump of a wall in the twilight of next year.
Dragonfly catching is just a child's game. Those who have grown up, sit on the wall and chat, or take a nap. Dragonflies covered the wall above their heads and climbed the brim of a yellow hat, like an elaborate embroidery. People occasionally look up a few times, then take a nap or chat, and even mosquitoes that fall on their noses are too lazy to chase. The sunset seems to be too short. Finish one action and suck it all at once. People, dragonflies and mosquitoes, under the same dying sun, have no way to care about it.
It was the same evening, a tall man came from the west field, carrying a shovel and stumbling. His back was covered with dragonflies basking in the sun, and he was unconscious. His clothes and hat were yellow by the sun. The back of his head is a little hot. He is coming down from a big slope in the west, and the shadow is in front of him. It is long and has arrived at home. His wife was cooking in the yard and saw her husband's shadow coming in through the open door, first a head-a head with a hat. Then the neck, a bent arm and a shovel across the shoulder. She told the child to wash his face: "Your father's shadow came into the room. You can eat it right away. "
The child soaked the water, put the washbasin on the ground, ran to the gate of the courtyard, and saw his father still walking in the distant field, a person, staggering. His shadow, like the water of a canal, flows home for a long time.
Whose father is that?
Her mother is cooking in the yard, and the door of the yard opens to the west. Who is standing at the door looking out? Who saw them ... He stopped, like a leaf in the wind and a grain of dirt in the dust, blankly-he recognized the yard, the man who came back with a shovel at the end of the shadow, eight empty bowls, gaps and fine lines on the edge of the bowls, delicious dinner cooked in an iron pot, eldest brother sitting against the wall smoking, and three people carrying a piece of wood against the wall.
He paused gratefully.
(Originally published in National Daily on September 20th11)
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Selected Prose is two chapters in Liu Liangcheng's prose collection Courtyard in the Wind. As always, the author, with calm and delicate brushwork, full of compassionate description and great tension and thickness, presents us with the scenery in the world he is familiar with and attached to, from the sunset mountains to the dust of insect wings, as well as the birth and death of people who live and multiply in the land that still carries his body temperature.
The framework of Liu Liangcheng's prose is often not focused on its breadth, but its thickness. Just like this article, the author's framing scope is only "courtyard gate in the wind" (of course, this "courtyard gate" is not isolated in a void, and it must have its "four-dimensional time and space"). In the sunset, dusk and night wind, the area guarded by the courtyard gate is the Garden of Eden where many lives live. Waiting at the gate is a kind of waiting for life-waiting for the return of life. "At that time, we seemed to already know that what can wait for us in the future is still ourselves who will always sit in the same dusk." What a rich implication this sentence has! Just like "Leaves Return to Roots", it is not the call of roots, but the yearning of leaves, waiting for leaves-waiting for the last day, we will blend into the earth and become a part of it.
There is also a long shadow left by people on the ground in the sunset-this image leaves readers with infinite reverie and aftertaste. Although our relatives can judge the life journey of its owner and that owner through this familiar shadow, it is only our shadow. In fact, when we think about our own life, isn't it also a shadow projected by the soul to the world? The more you get to the dusk of life, the longer it becomes, and then it fades away and disappears in the afterglow of the sunset. Fortunately, there is a courtyard door that encloses a habitat of life for us, and there is a person or a group of people who meet your life there, watching your figure and expecting your peace of mind-all these will make you "grateful". And the dragonfly climbing on the wall in the autumn sunset has become a metaphor: the more you reach the end of your life, the more you can't live without the warmth of love!
The perspective of life in Liu Liangcheng's prose is both ethereal and subtle. This undoubtedly stems from his profound and unique observation of life, nature and local culture. In particular, he observed his unique perspective as an outsider, and realized the depth and sadness of life from time to time, which made his words have an unusual charm and charm. The style and charm of Liu Liangcheng's prose are related to his life experience, aesthetic taste and knowledge, and it may be difficult for beginners to understand its essence. However, the observation, delicate brushwork and poetic description, profound experience, exploration and infinite imagination of life embodied in his prose are still worth learning from. Remember, the principle of reference is "law first"