Qingming Bridge in Winter

In the winter afternoon, the sunshine caressed my face gently, the smog was hard to find, and the sky was blue in Ming Che. I walked slowly on the street of Qingming Bridge in Wuxi, and pedestrians passed by in twos and threes. The street is paved with small square bricks, dense and dense. The ancient buildings on both sides face the street, mostly two-story buildings, side by side, one next to the other. The herringbone roof is covered with blue-brown tiles, white walls, and old doors and windows are inlaid with hollows, which is quaint. Parthenocissus tricuspidata leaves only dead vines, quietly clinging to walls and windows, as if waiting for something.

Most of the leaves of the buttonwood trees on both sides of the street have fallen, and some dead leaves are still hanging on the branches, but as long as the wind blows, they will say goodbye forever. Although some branches are slightly green, they can't resist the invasion of winter and look decadent. Most of the branches of the buttonwood tree have been sawed off, like a few fingers missing from the hand, which makes people unable to bear to look closely. Red lanterns are hung on the remaining branches, and the words "Qing, Ming and Bridge" are written on the lanterns, dotted with quiet street scenes. Not far away, the bells of nanzenji slowly floated into my ears, and the whole Qingming Bridge looked clean and leisurely in the winter sunshine.

On the left side of the street, an older man sat in the sun, crossing his legs, taking off his shoes with one foot, revealing red socks, holding a small round mirror in his left hand and a nail clipper in his right hand, facing the mirror, sideways, leisurely cutting or dragging his hair on his face. On the right hand side, an old man in a red hat sat on a bench, absorbed in playing mahjong on the table, grabbing a few tons here and adjusting a few pieces there. The mahjong tiles slammed on the table and muttered something. I think he must be a mahjong lover, and his fingers itch, but there is nothing he can do. If he is short of three, let's have fun first.

Qingming Bridge has a long history. It is said that it was first built in the Wanli period of the Ming Dynasty. Taiqing and Taining invested in the construction. According to their names, it was originally called "Qingning Bridge". During the Daoguang period, it was renamed Qingming Bridge in the name of Daoguang. I wonder how the emperor, whose name is taboo, felt when he signed treaty of nanking. It's just that the ancients went and let future generations comment.

After visiting the Qingming Bridge, Japanese composer Daisaburo Zhongshan wrote the song Qingming Bridge:

The ancient canal flows through the Southern Zen Bell from ancient times to the present, from winter to autumn.

At sunrise, the river is full of flowers and the spring scenery is like blue. Who is the fisherman girl waiting for on the boat?

The ancient canal flows through Qingming Bridge, and after the peach blossom boat apricot blossom storm in March,

You swim in the boat and I stay by the water. Is that beautiful girl waving to me?

Spring comes and goes again and again. Don't let time and tide wait for no man, the peach blossoms are white.

When the willow tips are good on the moon, people will make an appointment with lovers at the water's edge to hold your hand after dusk.

I don't think this great composer came to Qingming Bridge in winter, otherwise how could he write such a beautiful song? Or my imagination is lacking. At this moment, I can't imagine the graceful girl who wants to say goodbye in spring.

At night, colorful lights are reflected on the river, sparkling, and it feels like Monet's masterpiece Impression of Sunrise. At night, the Qingming Bridge became lively. At this time, the lights are swaying and the music lingers in the bar with the door half closed during the day. People who work during the day, ushered in a relaxing moment, or listening to music, or drinking and chatting, or shaking violently. ......

I just walked quietly, letting my thoughts fly, remembering that scene, forgetting the troubles of life and the secular pressure.

Suddenly the phone rang. Put it through. The receiver said, "Hello, this is xx real estate, which is of great investment value. Would you like to think about it? " I hung up the phone silently, and the trouble and pressure came again.