Hurried through the flowers, lazy to look back; This reason is partly because of the ascetic monk, and partly because of who you used to be.
-Yuan Zhen's Lisi
Last night, I dreamed of you again.
In your dream, you are standing under the pink peach tree closest to spring and wearing your bride's red dress. I can't see your face clearly, the face I stared at countless times later. But I can see your shyness and expectation, just like me.
In fact, when I knew that I would really get you, I could hardly believe my luck: you are the youngest daughter of my family and the apple of my parents' eye, but how can you marry such a useless scholar as me? Maybe God is too kind to me, and the unimaginable happiness has become a reality. That spring, you stood under the pink peach tree, and your warm red dress was among the pink flowers. Reminds me of the "Peach flies away and burns its flower" in the Book of Songs. Later, I learned that at that moment, what you were thinking was "Is it appropriate for your son to return to China?"
However, have you ever thought about the consequences of marrying a poor scholar like me? Maybe you have, but when you become my wife, I can't see any hesitation and regret. You just turned 20, and you showed amazing tenacity and strength in front of me. You said I had no clothes, so you searched your dowry to buy clothes for me. But when there is no money to drink, I will pester you for money. I can't believe you pulled out the golden hairpin on your head to change my wine ... Now that I think about it, the only thing left in your memory for seven years with me is poverty. When you have no money, you said that you would like to eat chaff and swallow vegetables with me in order to save firewood.
Do you remember the legend of Korean poetry I told you? When I talked about "the tree wants to be quiet, but the wind will not stop, and the child wants to keep it", you said very seriously: When our conditions are good, we must provide for the elderly. But at that time, where could I have thought that you were the first person to leave?
Can you hear me? I think you can hear me, because I see the candle in front of your spirit nodding slightly. Are you telling me something? After you left, I often sat in front of your spirit and talked to you like this. The servants said I was talking to myself. Actually, I know I'm not talking to myself, because you can hear me, and I can feel you in front of me, just like those unforgettable days and nights in seven years, listen to me quietly, right? Even over the years, wherever I go, I can feel your presence and feel that you are by my side, standing side by side with me quietly.
I think, as you can see, I finally have a position. I am no longer the poor scholar I used to be, nor the little official who was bullied by eunuchs. I finally got the generous salary I dreamed of before. But, what's the use? It has been a long time since you left. The only thing I can do is to spend more money to make a ceremony for you to comfort you.
Last night, I dreamed of you again.
In my dream, you are wearing that simple green dress, leaning against some books in my study and chatting quietly with me. At that time, you said that if I left you early, you would not be able to bear such a blow, so you'd better leave early. I blocked your mouth and didn't want you to say such unlucky things. Your laughter flows through my fingers, crisp and relaxed. At that time, we didn't expect that a joke in those days turned into a prophecy! At that time, my fear has become a reality that torments me day and night today!
According to the custom, the clothes you wore before your death have been given to others one by one, but I can't bear to give them any more, because there are fewer and fewer clothes that still smell like you. Those clothes that have worn your shoulders, tied your waist and caged your body are about to be given away. I'm afraid those memories will leave me with those clothes. I'd rather leave them in front of my eyes, even if I can't bear to see them, even if I cry. Only your sewing box has been kept by me, but I can't bear to open it. Every needle in it will sting my heart, and every thread will bring out an unbearable memory, including memories of years' body temperature and sad memories.
Last night, I seemed to see you tell me again: be kind to your servant and forgive you. I remember at that time, I laughed at you for being a soft woman. My heart was tempered by the sinister officialdom, and I didn't know your kindness until you left.
I dreamed of you again last night, telling me to be kind to my servant. I gave them some money. I remember when you were around, you were often ashamed and couldn't give them more. At that time, we only knew that this was our sorrow. But now I understand that this is the sorrow of many people! Poverty makes us humble for survival and miserable for survival.
Today, I sit in front of you again and talk to you. Just like when you were here. I always talk too much and you talk too little. You are a gentle and quiet listener, and you never get tired of my rambling. After you left, I rambled a lot, and they all bothered me. Are you bored?
The candle in front of your spirit burns as calmly as you do. I don't know how long this candle can burn, just as I didn't know how far it was forever before. Now I know that forever is seven years, the seven years that we have gone through together, the seven years that I once had your life, and those seven years are my eternity, my eternity. If life does not have these seven years, even if it has a hundred years, what can it represent?
Remember that Deng You I told you about when I told you about history books? He escaped with a son and a nephew in the war. He abandoned his son to save his nephew. However, he never gave birth to a child again. At that time, people said "God doesn't know", but does God know? Otherwise, how could he be so cruel as to take you away from me, and even fail to leave me one of our children, so that I can still see your flowery smile when touching his head. In a blink of an eye, you have been gone for more than 20 years, but in my heart, you will always be 27 years old, the woman who will always stand under the pink peach tree, you know? I can't remember how many poems I have written for you in the past twenty years. Actually, what's the use of these? Pan Yue also wrote three mourning poems for his dead wife, but the deceased is long gone! It's better to write to yourself than to you!
I had hoped to be buried with you in a hundred years, but even if we can be buried together, can we really meet again? If you look forward to the afterlife, it is even more uncertain! You have disappeared from my life forever, and I can never call you back, even though I have called you for more than twenty years, even though I have been calling you from young to old in Zhihu!
Today, I sit in front of you and chat with you, as we often did more than twenty years ago. You're sitting opposite me, leaning on several cases and listening to me. I remember at that time, we often talked like this until dawn. Do you remember? The candle in front of your spirit is still burning quietly. I heard the cock crow from the village. Another sleepless night. You told me to go to bed and take care of myself. I heard it, but I couldn't sleep. Even lying in bed, my eyes are wide open, looking at the beams and the cobwebs on them. Dusty memories spread from the center of the spider web, crossed the dam of years, crossed the vicissitudes of life for half a lifetime, and floated all the way under the bed, bringing me endless sadness. So, I opened my eyes and wanted to see your red skirt, your shyness and your strength like water through this vicissitudes. However, I can't see the pink peach tree closest to spring. My life has been in winter, and there is no cycle of years.
Don't talk to me again. Tonight, you have advised me too much, just like when you were here, advised me not to study too late and advised me to go to bed early. However, I can't sleep, just keep my eyes open. Even if I can't see you through the fog, it's your regret, the regret of your eyebrows that have never stretched in the seven years you walked with me, and the regret of your heart that has never been light in the most difficult seven years of your life. You gave me more than two thousand days and nights, every day and night, like a vast sea, with too many memories and past, and spacious.