1. Narrative prose
"From Baicao Garden to Sanwei Bookstore" by Lu Xun
There is a large garden behind my house, which is said to be called Baicao Garden. Now it has been sold to the descendants of Zhu Wengong together with the house. Even the last meeting has been separated by seven or eight years. It seems that there are only some weeds in it; but it was my paradise at that time.
Needless to say, there are green vegetable beds, smooth stone well fences, tall honey locust trees, and purple mulberries; there is no need to mention the cicadas chirping in the leaves, and the fat wasps lying on the cauliflowers, nimbly calling the emperor. (The skylark) suddenly jumped straight from the grass into the sky. The surrounding short mud walls alone are infinitely interesting. The oil flies sing here, and the crickets play the piano here. When turning over broken bricks, you sometimes meet centipedes; and cantharides. If you press its backbone with your fingers, it will snap loudly and a burst of smoke will be emitted from the rear orifices. The Polygonum multiflorum vine and the Magnolia vine are intertwined. The Magnolia has lotus-like fruits, and the Polygonum multiflorum has bloated roots. Some people say that Polygonum multiflorum root has a human shape, and if you eat it, you can become an immortal. So I often pull it up, and I have been involved in pulling it up again and again. I have also damaged the mud wall because of it, but never
I have seen a piece of root that looks like a human being. If you are not afraid of thorns, you can also pick raspberries, which are like small balls made of small coral beads. They are sour and sweet, and the color and taste are far better than mulberries.
You can't go into the long grass because it is said that there is a big red snake in the garden.
My eldest mother once told me a story: Previously, there was a scholar who lived in an ancient temple and studied. At night, while enjoying the cool air in the yard, he suddenly heard someone calling him. He agreed, and when he looked around, he saw a beautiful woman's face exposed on the wall, smiled at him, and then disappeared. He was very happy; but the old monk who came to talk at night discovered the trap. He said that there was some evil spirit on his face, and he must have met the "Beautiful Snake"; this is a monster with the head of a human and the body of a snake. It can call people's names. If they agree, it will come to eat the person's flesh at night. Naturally, he was frightened to death, but the old monk said it was okay and gave him a small box, saying that as long as he put it next to his pillow, he could sleep soundly. Although he did the same thing, he still couldn't sleep - of course he couldn't sleep. In the middle of the night, it really came, rustle! There was a sound like wind and rain outside the door. Just as he was shaking into a ball, he heard a crack, and a golden light flew out from the pillow. There was no sound outside, and the golden light flew back and was collected in the box. What happened next? Later, the old monk said that this was a flying centipede that could suck the brains of snakes, and the beautiful snake was killed by it.
The lesson at the end is: So if a strange voice calls your name, you must not answer it.
This story makes me feel the dangers of being a human being. When I enjoy the coolness on a summer night, I am often a little worried and dare not look at the wall. I also desperately want to get a box of flying centipedes like the old monk. I often think this way when I walk to the grass in the Herb Garden. But until now, I haven't gotten it yet, nor have I met the Red Snake or the Beautiful Snake. Of course, there are often strange voices calling my name, but they are not beautiful snakes.
The Baicao Garden in winter is relatively tasteless; when it snows, it becomes completely different. Photographing snowmen (printing one's full shape on the snow) and shaping snow arhats require people's appreciation. This is a deserted park and inaccessible, so it is not suitable, so we have to come to catch birds. Thin snow is not enough; it must be covered with snow for a day or two, when the birds have nowhere to look for food. Sweep away a piece of snow to expose the ground, use a short stick to hold up a large bamboo sieve, scatter some grains underneath, tie a long rope to the stick, and hold it from a distance to watch the birds come down to eat and go. When you get under the bamboo sieve, you pull the rope and cover it. But what we got were mostly sparrows, and there were also white-cheeked "Zhang Fei birds", which were very irritable and couldn't be kept overnight.
This is the method taught by Runtu's father, but I am not very good at using it. I obviously saw them entering, so I pulled the rope and ran to take a look, but there was nothing there. After a long time of effort, I could only catch three or four. Runtu's father could catch dozens of them in a short time, put them in fork bags, scream and hit them. I once asked him the reasons for gains and losses, and he just smiled quietly and said: "You are too impatient and you didn't have time to wait for it to come to the middle."
I don't know why my family sent me to the bookstore. I went to a private school, and it was also known as the strictest book school in the city. Maybe it was because he destroyed the mud wall by pulling out polygonum multiflorum, maybe because he threw the bricks to the Liang family in the next room, maybe because he jumped down from the railing of the stone well... There is no way of knowing. In short: I won’t be able to go to Baicao Garden very often. Ade, my crickets! Ade, my raspberries and magnolias!...
Go east, walk less than half a mile, cross a stone bridge, and you will find my husband’s home. Entering through a black oiled bamboo door, the third room is the study room. There is a plaque hanging in the middle saying: Sanwei Bookstore; below the plaque is a painting, which shows a very fat sika deer lying under an old tree. There is no Confucius tablet, so we salute to the plaque and the deer. The first time is to worship Confucius, and the second time is to worship Mr.
When I saluted for the second time, my husband responded kindly. He is a tall, thin old man with gray beard and hair, and wears big glasses. I am very respectful to him because I have long heard that he is a very upright, simple and knowledgeable person in this city.
I don’t know where I heard it from. Dongfang Shuo is also very knowledgeable. He knows a kind of insect called "Guizai". The grievances are turned away by pouring wine.
I really want to know this story in detail, but Chang doesn't know it because she is not knowledgeable after all. Now that I have the opportunity, I can ask Mr.
"Sir, what's going on with this 'weird' bug?..." I took the exam and asked quickly when I was about to retire.
"I don't know!" He seemed very unhappy, with an angry look on his face.
I realized that as a student, you should not ask these things. As long as you study, because he is a profound scholar, he will never not know. This is often the case with people who are older than me. I have encountered this several times.
I just read, practice calligraphy at noon, and give lessons in the evening. My husband was very strict with me in the first few days, but later he got better. However, he gradually read more books to me, and gradually added more words to his lectures, from three words to five words, and finally to seven words.
There is also a garden behind Sanwei Bookstore. Although it is small, you can climb up the flower bed there to break wax plum blossoms and look for cicadas to shed on the ground or on the osmanthus trees. The best job is to catch flies and feed ants, quietly and without making any sound. However, too many classmates came to the garden for too long, and that was not enough. The teacher shouted in the study room:
"Where have everyone gone!"
People walked back one by one; it was not possible to go back together. He had a ruler, but he didn't use it often. He also had a rule about kneeling as a penalty, but he didn't use it often. He just stared a few times and said loudly:
"Read!"
So everyone Open your throat and read for a while, it's really full of people. Some people think, "Benevolence is far away. I want to be kind and benevolent." Some people think, "Laughing at a man with missing teeth means a dog's sinuses are wide open." Some people think, "Don't use the Nine Hidden Dragons above." Some people think, "Jiu Tu Xia Mr. "Shangshang Cuojue Gongbaomao Tangyou"... also studied. Later, our voices lowered and became quiet, and only he continued to read aloud:
"Tie Ruyi, commanding and suave, everyone is shocked when he sits down; Jin Boluo, upside down and dripping, thousands of cups Not drunk yet..."
I suspect this is an excellent article, because after reading this, he always smiles, raises his head, shakes it, and twists it back.
When Mr. is absorbed in reading, it is very suitable for us. A few used paper armor sets to put on their nails for show. I was a painter, using a kind of paper called "Jingchuan paper" to trace the embroideries in the novel one by one, just like shadowing when practicing calligraphy. The more books I read, the more pictures I drew; I didn't finish reading the books, but I made a lot of paintings. The most successful ones were the portraits of "Dang Kou Zhi" and "Journey to the West", both of which were large. Later, because I needed money, I sold it to a rich classmate. His father ran a tinfoil shop; I heard that now that he has become a shopkeeper and is about to be promoted to the status of a gentleman, this thing is no longer available.
2. Lyrical prose
"Farewell" Wei Wei
I came to North Korea amid the sound of triumphal songs. I saw the people here again, the mountains and rivers here. What a bright autumn, here, there is no longer scorched earth and ashes, this is a prosperous land where thousands of hills are covered with red carpets. The red pine covered with elastic skin is still alive, standing proudly on the high mountain rocks, the whistle is cheering in the valley, and the egrets are flying slowly in the rice fields. On that mountain path, by the clear water, girls wearing colorful long skirts, carrying bamboo baskets and water jugs, walked back to their homes full of cosmos flowers. Seeing all these scenes and recalling the experiences of the Korean people, it makes people indescribably excited and joyful! However, in these days, when the volunteers were about to break up with them, a deep sense of separation held their hearts. They can bear a huge war and the hardships of rebuilding their homeland, but they cannot bear such a heavy separation. The same goes for the Volunteer Army. During the eight years they were away from the motherland, they always thought about the motherland. However, once they were about to leave the people who had formed a life-and-death friendship, they were infinitely attached to it. What do you use to express your feelings? What do the soldiers have? They only have a pair of calloused hands and a sincere heart. In the limited time before parting, I saw them working hard day and night. The comrades of the People's Army were about to take over the defense. They painted the barracks over and over again. Even if there were a few mud spots on the wall, they had to be painted again. Even a kettle had to be polished. In order to beautify the camp, they almost became the legendary goddess who made stones to mend the sky. They climbed from the East Mountain to the West Mountain, and ran from the North Ridge to the Nanhe River. They collected red stones, white stones, yellow stones, green stones, and dug out moss and green velvet, and decorated each house with lace. A flower bed has been built in the center of the courtyard. It is said to be a flower bed, but it is actually a collection of paintings embroidered on the ground. There are dragons, phoenixes, lions, and tigers, white rabbits, colorful butterflies, green lotuses in the water, red plums in the snow, and Tiananmen Square and Peony Peak surrounded by white clouds. If you look closely, you will see the painstaking efforts of the soldiers: they applied red paint with electric bulbs to make the eyes of the little white rabbit; they cut the mouth of the bottle and inlaid it with flowered porcelain bowl pieces to make the The flowers on the wings of butterflies were decorated with flowers; even in the mouth of the mouth, red suns, roosters and "good morning" messages were also built. Just as the soldier's poem said, "The roads in the garden are made of brocade silk, and the flowers are arranged like sitting in an embroidery building." Every flower and leaf here is permeated with the sweat and affection of the soldiers! In addition, the soldiers also left their most beloved things to their comrades in the People's Army, showing their red hearts in every gift room.
Even I, who have been in the army for many years, have never appreciated so many secrets of the soldiers. They were never willing to use these gifts, they never showed them to others, and they always hid them in the innermost layer of the little bundle. They had kept them for many years and traveled with them through mountains and rivers, even if they sacrificed their lives in water and fire, they refused to throw them away. of. This time, in order to leave this country and for the most precious friendship, their secrets were leaked. Here are the handkerchiefs made overnight when a lover broke up, the soles of embroidered socks that he carried on his back when he joined the army, the porcelain bowls that have been passed down from generation to generation, the sisters' embroidered purses, the acacia cups for the wedding night, and the fiancée's red Belt made of wool. Even they themselves would only take out these beloved things to look at when no one was around, and then hurriedly hid them. However, today they took them out and wrote poems on them on red paper and placed them here. There is a pair of extremely beautifully made embroidered socks, with a poem attached to them: My wife made socks with thousands of stitches, and gave them to me by the river before she left. Love is as long as the river, and it always flows. This sock is loved in my heart and has been hidden in my bag for four years. I send it to my comrades to show my love. Our hearts hope to be connected forever. These touching gifts made it difficult for other soldiers to kill them. Soldier Hu Mingfu and three other comrades decided to make embroidered handkerchiefs for the People's Army. They had no cloth, so they tore off the furoshiki, found pigments, and dyed several bunches of thread. They also added alkali during dyeing to make it never fade. The enemy-killing warrior just picked up the embroidery needle and became an embroidery girl. Embroidery, embroidery, two embroidered handkerchiefs were finally embroidered. They also wrote the following poem: Thick hands embroider deeper into the night, embroidering stitch after stitch. The needle, thread, and thread are in harmony with each other. The friendship between China and North Korea is deeper than the sea. In this limited time, the soldiers also thought about how to do their best for the local elders. They thought about which streams were difficult to cross when flash floods came, so they built stone bridges and plank bridges. Which ones were too far away from the river, so they dug wells next to scattered cottages, and which wells were close to the road. , and added a manhole cover to the well. They also went from house to house to see whose house was leaking and put new grass on it, and whose roof was cracked and plastered it with plaster. They also picked up American bomb fragments, lit a fire, beat them into sickles, cut mountain vines to make baskets, and made small round tables with living legs according to the Korean style, and then gave them to North Korean Abaki and grandmothers. Ni. Other careful and skillful warriors also made small pistols, kaleidoscopes and small ice carts for skating for children, and carved dragon-head crutches for the elderly. When these old people who had experienced many vicissitudes of life took the crutches into their hands, tears welled up in their dim old eyes. They lamented that after living for several generations, they had never seen such an army, an army that made kaleidoscopes and dragon-headed crutches! They praised the Communist Party of China and Mao Zedong for their good teachings. The hearts of these Chinese children are simply hearts of gold, hearts of silver, and hearts as crystal clear as crystal stones! In Riyanli, Yangde County, I saw soldiers hurriedly repairing a Korean-style house. It turned out that there was a hunchbacked, lonely woman with four children in the village who had not had a house for ten years and lived here and there. This house was built for her. With deep love, the soldiers dyed the pillars red, painted birds, insects and flowers under the eaves, and painted pictures of the two peoples fighting side by side. Until the day before departure, they had just dried the house and framed it with white paper. It was very lively during the move. The army dispatched dozens of soldiers. Some were carrying pots and bowls, some were holding pots, some were carrying wood, some were carrying straw bags, and some were driving piglets. The piglets were squeaking and gongs and drums were beating, forming a long queue. , lively and lively, sending this family into their new home. Then, the soldiers held hands and danced around the house around the North Korean mother. The North Korean mother fell on the soldiers' shoulders and shed her tears. At this time, his old mother also came from Yangde. The gray-haired old man filled a glass of wine, held it to the political commissar's lips, and said she had a dream last night. She said she dreamed that a dragon came down from the sky. This celestial dragon slowly and leisurely floated in the sky and disappeared, and then a burst of music was heard. Amidst the music, countless volunteers came from all directions, walked towards her daughter, and danced around her daughter, just like the soldiers danced around her daughter today. She said that in the dream, her daughter lifted up her skirt with both hands, and the volunteers rushed to throw flowers and jewelry into her arms. Those jewelry also read "Longevity and Longevity". Those flowers looked very light, but when they fell, each one became heavy and made the skirt sink. ... Affectionate people, what a beautiful tribute you have given to our army! It is conceivable that when people leave such an army, how can they not be deeply attached to it! However, the departure date of the volunteers is still approaching day by day. North Korean elders, they have no interest in working during the day, and they cannot sleep peacefully at night. They repeatedly inquired about the volunteers' departure date, lest people leave quietly, and when they heard the sound of cars, they would open the doors and windows to take a look. If a soldier comes to their house, the amannies will bring out copper bowls of chestnuts, or they will hurriedly grab hot eggs from the henhouse and stuff them into your arms. They also invited familiar soldiers to their homes, killed chickens, bought wine, and watched you eat it, as if they could relax their separation. There were twenty-two old mothers in Wenjing. They collected money, prepared food and drinks, and invited dozens of soldiers to have a heart-to-heart talk. That night, they poured out their feelings to the Chinese children.
Some said, if you leave, it's like I lost an arm. Some said, if you leave, it's like there is a lack of salt in the meal. Some said, if you can carry it, your mother will carry you. Cross the Yalu River! With tears in their eyes, they pulled off the silver hairpins on their heads, took off their wedding rings that had been worn for decades, took out the small copper bells that had been passed down for generations while dancing, and stuffed them into the arms of the warriors. On the warrior's finger. They also put the vegetables into the mouths of the soldiers one by one. Some of them swallowed it with tears, and some turned their backs and quietly spit out the chestnuts that Amani had put into their mouths, wrapping them in paper. Well, put it carefully in your pocket as a lifelong memory of your Korean mother. The soldiers said excitedly: "If the American emperor dares to take action again, even if I live to be eighty years old and have a three-foot-long beard, I will bring my children and grandchildren to fight against the United States and aid Korea!" The deep love of the Korean people is such that people will never forget it. . There is a blind old mother in Wenjing. Ever since her daughter was snatched away by the Japanese, her eyes have been blinded by tears over the years. When more than twenty soldiers went to say goodbye to her, the old mother said emotionally: "You have lived here for several years, and I have never seen your appearance. You helped me repair the house, and I can't see the repair of the house." Who is it? My God, if I could open my eyes and take a look at you, I would be willing to die immediately!" She patted her heart and touched the chests of the soldiers: "Child, I can't see you. , let me touch you!" She said that she touched more than twenty soldiers from head to toe. In this moment of farewell, there is almost nothing that is not a poem of friendship, a touching poem. People composed many poems to praise this rare friendship. In Guyang De's Fenglin Chaimen, there lived an unknown poet with white hair. I went to visit him. Talking about the evacuation of the volunteers, the old man sighed with great regret, took out his pen and wrote a few Chinese characters: "It's like a thigh, it's all the words of the people." The old man also handed me five or six self-glued white paper envelopes. The envelopes were all written with the words: "We sincerely present the 78-year-old Park In-joon from Dongyang-ri, Yangde County, Pyongyang South Province." When I opened them, they were all given to the volunteers. farewell poem. One of the poems is: Returning home a thousand miles away, the geese are calling in March and Autumn. The brotherhood between the two countries will never end in the Cangjiang River. There is another song: The night frost is red deep in the thousands of forest trees, which can be used as a farewell message in the Ming Dynasty. The carriage is full of white-headed maids, and the mountain city is moved with continuous shouts of long live. In this moment of farewell, the Korean people especially have deep feelings for the martyrs who sacrificed their lives on this land. During the construction of the Dongyang-ri Jiulong River Bridge, the flowing wood was often blocked by stones. In order to clear the blockage, young Cai Dingqi jumped into the rapids, but unfortunately was sucked into the whirlpool and died. This may be the last person of the Volunteer Army who died in North Korea. After his death, he was buried in the Volunteer Army’s Martyrs Cemetery. However, the people in Dongyangli insisted on burying him in Dongyangli, and chose the best Xiangyang cemetery to rebury him according to Korean etiquette. Dear people, they want the men, women, and children in Dongyang to be able to see Cai Dingqi's grave when they raise their heads, and also for Cai Dingqi to be able to see the Jiulong River Bridge where he dedicated his life. The Volunteer Army agreed to this request. On the day of the burial, all the men and women in Dongyang attended the funeral. The weather was excellent before the burial, but during the burial, a dark cloud suddenly came and it rained heavily. At this time, an extraordinary and beautiful rainbow appeared over the cemetery. After the burial, the rainbow gradually disappeared. Afterwards, a mythical explanation was circulated among the residents of Dongyangli, saying that the friendship between China and North Korea moved the world, so such a beautiful rainbow appeared. The day of departure finally came despite people's deep feelings of separation. The luggage was loaded into the car. The cart was hitched to the mules and horses. The cannon is coated. The camp gate has been replaced by a People's Army sentry. The soldiers swept the yard for the last time, filled the water jars, dusted themselves off, and packed their bags. That night, many North Korean families did not sleep a wink, and how many families turned on the lights at three o'clock in the middle of the night. They once again arranged the bouquets, put the gifts into the bamboo baskets, and waited for the dawn when the assembly number was about to sound. Dawn, this is the dawn of late autumn, but people have already come out, wearing thin clothes. The old people wear tall black gauze hats. Women carry bamboo baskets and carry children on their backs. People are holding maple leaves. Even the child on his back holds a maple leaf in his little hand. They stood on the roadside, in the cold morning wind. The troops are assembled. The women opened bamboo baskets and distributed gifts. The children climbed onto the cannon and inserted red leaves into the muzzle of the cannon. The little Jeep was also wrapped into a float with countless colored paper strips and strings of paper flowers. The grannies, the children, the girls, none of them cried when they did these things. Last night, the soldiers told them not to cry. The village (village) cadres also told them not to cry in order not to make the volunteers sad. They were very obedient, they really stopped themselves, and they didn’t cry at all while doing these things. The departure signal sounded. The soldiers shouldered their backpacks, put on their guns, and walked towards the welcoming crowd lined the streets. "Long live" sounded, the fiery red maple leaves were raised, and the children scattered the rain of confetti vigorously, cheering: "Glory-Isda!" "Glory-Isda!" (i.e. "Glory-Isda!") !") The footsteps of the volunteers moved, and people's eyes became wet, but no one endured it, shouted slogans as hard as they could, and still did not cry. However, when the soldiers held the old mother's hand and called out "Ama Ni, goodbye!" I don't know if the old mother couldn't help it. She held the soldier's hand and was the first to cry. Then came the girls, the children crying, then the silent tears and low sobs of the men.
At this time, the soldiers were literally marching in the rain of tears sent by the Korean people to see them off. This was not a single person crying, this was the whole Korean nation holding their dearest friends with their hearts in their hands! Even a drop of my tears cannot stop falling into the rain of thousands of tears. Oh, dear, respectable Korean people! In the flames of war, you are so strong! The enemy turned your town into ruins, but you did not cry; the enemy burned your home to ashes, but you did not cry; the enemy killed your relatives, but you did not cry; the enemy tied you to a big tree and burned you You, roast you, you didn’t cry; you are really a hard bow that can’t be pulled, a diamond that can’t be burned! But today, when your comrades-in-arms, the Chinese soldiers, were about to leave you, you shed so many tears! It seems that all the tears of each of you for a lifetime will be poured out today! You are a very strong and passionate people! Please put away your tears, dear and respectable people! Your tears keep flowing like this, and they have already wetted your land. I know that you deplore the blood of Chinese soldiers and feel grateful for the little work of Chinese soldiers. Your tears today are the highest praise for the Chinese soldiers and the supreme honor given to the Chinese soldiers! I know that every drop in this rain of tears is not an ordinary tear. Each drop is a pearl of friendship that is hard to buy! In the rain of tears as they bid farewell, all the Chinese soldiers also shed tears. An hour had passed and they had not yet walked two miles. At this time, in the procession of seeing off people, someone was shouting: "Stop crying, carry the backpacks for them!" People suddenly woke up, wiped their tears, and grabbed the soldiers' backpacks. Children also Grabbing it and carrying it on their shoulders, the women held the snatched backpack high on their heads and floated beside the soldiers. At this time, the team was no longer divided into ranks, soldiers and civilians, and men and women. They were scattered and colorful, supporting each other, talking, crying, and walking. What a team this is! Maybe this doesn't look like a team, but this is indeed the most powerful team in the world. This is a huge flow of friendship that is heart to heart and shoulder to shoulder! This huge stream is marching, marching, crossing rivers and mountains. They are marching in the mountains and fields of red maple trees, marching in the east of socialism."