Classic Prose: Old Dreams on the Ancient Bridge

Rain, like a gentle kiss on this ancient bridge, a man and a woman on the river bank.

There are many ancient bridges in Sanhe, which are not dense but not sparse. Later on the road, Xiao Dan walked along the river bank and reached the end of Sanhe Old Street. Along the way, she didn't see many ancient bridges, but the age can be traced back to hundreds or even thousands of years ago.

Xiao Dan never knew the name of the ancient bridge where she and the painter first met. If in the past, if she and the painter could write a love story in Sanhe, they might give the old bridge a new name. What could it be called? Yuelao Bridge? ,? Hongqiao? , or? Shuangqiao? Wait a minute.

Of course, the story is not so romantic. I just like romantic Xiao Dan, and I don't want to be lonely on my own journey. So, looking at the man with a brush on the ancient bridge, Xiao Dan was curious? A painter's life, like those who love words, has a wandering impulse and desire. I forgot my messy hair and looked a little wet in the drizzle. Xiao Dan ran to the ancient bridge.

Ancient bridge, Sanjiang? Eight ancient? A major feature of. This is an ancient dream, across the ancient river bank. Whether new or old, this ancient bridge still passes there quietly, never complaining or leaving. Mottled moss stone surface, wet marks by misty rain, is like the life of an ancient bridge. Although the years are seamless, the vicissitudes of life on my face are still falling off layer by layer. I can't help thinking, are the old dreams on the ancient bridge the same as those left by sanhe town people more than 100 years ago?

Standing on the bridge, Xiao Dan didn't walk over. I don't know whether she is shy or timid. She is watching the painter collect oil paintings. Perhaps because of habit, she picked up the camera and photographed the painter's back in the rain. The painter picked up the drawing board, put away the brush and put it in the bag. When he was about to leave, he stayed on the ancient bridge, and the colors dotted on the bluestone looked like a natural abstract oil painting. In the painting, the man's figure is twisted in the drizzle, and he turns away with some reluctance.

? What did you draw just now? Suddenly, Xiao Dan asked.

The painter paused and turned around, but he was still a young painter. Suddenly, Xiao Dan was a little embarrassed. Looking at his back, his mature clothes make Xiao Dan feel that this man is a middle-aged painter who has experienced many vicissitudes. I just didn't expect that I was so young and looked only a few years older than myself.

? A river, a woman and a photographer! ? The painter's answer is very simple.

? May I have a look?

? It's raining, and the painting is not finished! ? The painter refused.

? Misty rain, painting on the ancient bridge. Just pack up and go home because of the rain? Don't you think you have failed God's mercy? Xiao Dan said with a smile, her camera is already hazy. At this time, what she saw was even more hazy. The small bridges and flowing water in the three rivers did not remind her of Jiangnan. Of course, the Sanjiang architecture in the late Qing Dynasty really has the flavor of the ancient town in the south of the Yangtze River. Only at this time, in Xiao Dan's eyes, there is only a bridge with a scholar who can draw.

The painter seems a little interested in Xiao Dan's remarks.

Painting in the rain, whether the result is satisfactory or not, is a sin if it fails to live up to God's kindness. The painter removed the drawing board and put an easel on the bridge. The wind on the river, some wanton, messed up Xiao Dan's long hair and wet the painter's paper. Just as Xiao Dan stepped onto the ancient bridge, she found that the ancient river did not know when two cruise ships came. Retro cruise ships smell like fishing boats. Like misty rain, the boatman steered and swayed in the wind. Xiao Dan was fascinated and watched the boat until it was far away. Then she stopped watching and went back to the ancient bridge.

? Do you know what that shabby house on the river bank in the distance is? Suddenly, the painter asked.

Zheng Xiaodan pointed to the painter's direction, and it was a row of seemingly dilapidated houses. She wiped the lens over and over again, but it was still a little blurred. As long as she unpacks her bag and finds an umbrella, she will be considered a mermaid girl. The broken house is not close to the ancient bridge, but it is not too far. There are many weeds around the house, although they are all yellow and lifeless, and there are several seemingly dry old trees with bare branches like ghosts' talons. The loneliness in the house seems a bit weird in the rain. Xiao Dan thinks this is an abandoned modern factory.

Xiao Dan was a little surprised when the painter told her that the so-called abandoned modern factory was actually the old granary of Li Hongzhang's family? How can such a precious site be ignored by history?

The mess and depression of the granary seem to have been looted by a group of refugees.

Perhaps it is the blurred vision, the wall of the granary, which Xiao Dan regarded as a wall made of mud. Just when she felt a trace of sadness and regret, the painter finished painting. Curiosity interrupted Xiao Dan's thoughts. When she came to the painting, she was shocked? In the painting, it is misty and rainy, and the banks of the ancient river are full of spring scenery. The woman was washing by the river, and there seemed to be a sound of knocking on the slate in her ear. Not far away, in a granary, there are many shirtless men coming and going, either carrying rice bags on their backs or carrying a bag of rice bags in each hand. Although it is in the picture, vaguely, I seem to hear the shouts of rice workers carrying rice and picking rice, as well as the panting voice.

The weeping willows on the river bank are reflected on the water, and the slender willow branches hang straight down and hang on the river. Suddenly a gust of wind blew, and the leaves of weeping willow branches swayed gently on the quiet water, causing shallow ripples. After a while, the water was as calm as a bronze mirror, reflecting the white walls and tiles on both sides.

Just then, a modern girl wearing a big pink scarf appeared in the bronze mirror like a dream, carrying a backpack and holding a camera. Looking at everything in front of her, the girl couldn't help picking up the camera, buttoning the button and clicking it a few times. In the hazy spring rain, the scene of the ancient river formed a picturesque beauty under the lens.

? Are you awesome? ! ? Xiao Dan couldn't help but almost say a dirty word.

? The cow is on this modern girl. ? The painter giggled.

The winter rain fell on the paper, some of them were soaked, and the colors of the pigments mixed together, but to Xiao Dan's surprise, when the two colors next to them were mixed again, the whole painting was not distorted. On the contrary, the disorderly color style magnifies the artistic conception of the contrast between the old and the new and the fusion of the ancient and the modern. The modern girl in the painting was melted in the chaotic colors, and everything was so sudden and harmonious.

? Got a name? Xiao Dan asked, thinking about the title of the painting.

? The photographer in the painting! ? When the painter answered her like this, Xiao Dan was a little surprised and didn't seem to understand. However, the painter didn't make it clear. He put away his paintings and easels and told Xiao Dan that as a photographer, he should not only shoot beautiful scenery, but also shoot artistic conception. Xiao Dan still doesn't understand, because she is not a photographer, and she doesn't understand the painter's psychology, because she is not a painter. She only thinks that shooting any good scenery is not a work that highlights the artistic conception, but a writing material.

The painter told Xiao Dan that this was the place where he often came.

Xiao Dan asked him why he didn't go to Hongcun Xidi to find information. The painter told her that in a crowded place, there is no smell of ancient precipitation. Xiao Dan nodded. She told the painter that she met a Huizhou woman on her way to Tachuan in late autumn and early winter last year. Xiao Dan said her name was Aru.

The painter smiled and took Xiao Dan along the ancient river, saying that he would show her around. The old people he met on the Sanhe ancient bridge often sat with a group of old people, but he didn't talk and liked to smoke alone. The painter said that he drew a picture for the old man, and the old man actually clamored for him to buy a pack of cigarettes. Later, when they got acquainted, the painter often came to see the old man.

Bridges on ancient rivers, whether newly built or newly built, are old and mottled, but they still can't hide the mark of time.

The bleak winter, the depression of old trees, and the weeping willows on the river bank are bare, like a naked and forgotten lonely old man. But Xiao Dan still prefers the painting that the painter just painted on the ancient bridge. She thinks it should be called? Spring under the misty rain? This painting.

Suddenly, the painter took her into an alley. Xiao Dan is a little numb, and the alley is not narrow, but it is not as good as everyone's alley. There are still several households in the alley doing business with their doors open. On the door of the brick carving, the vicissitudes of life are so great that you can hardly see the fineness of the brick carving. There are still some weeds growing on the door, which are yellow and lifeless. But the one hanging under the door says? Wine? The yellow pages of Chinese characters have no meaning.

Xiao Dan was fascinated, but the figure of the painter was not in the alley.

? Painter, painter, painter? Xiao Dan didn't know the name of his family and thought he was a painter because he painted. Therefore, she has always called this man with a brush a painter!

? This side

After running out of the alley, the painter raised his hand and shouted in front of Xiao Dan, who was looking for him, on an ancient bridge across the old streets on both sides of the strait. Xiao Dan got there. This is an old bridge. It is very wide. How wide is it? There is no ruler in Xiao Dan's backpack. She was a little surprised. At both ends of the bridge, two ancient pavilions are actually formed. In the pavilion on the left, there are two little boys. They are listening to songs and singing. The painter walked into the pavilion on the right. He put down the drawing board and easel and took a shoulder bag. Sitting next to several old people, he took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

The old man beside the painter didn't speak, but his eyes were smiling. Look at the painter and look at the smoke in his hand. He shook his head, with a lighter in his hand and a hand in his arms. The old man always seems to be smiling, but he never talks. After a while, the old man took out a crumpled cigarette from his pocket. His wrinkled hand lit a cigarette with a lighter, and suddenly a puff of smoke rose.

? Haven't you finished the cigarette I gave you last time? Asked the painter.

The old man nodded and finally answered:? I don't want to smoke or throw away when I get old. Just keep it and smoke slowly. ? The painter smiled and took out a mosaic from his bag, which was a portrait of an old man smoking. He looked at his portrait, nodded with a smile and narrowed his eyes, which seemed to be mixed with tears. He took the portrait and threw it on the ground before he finished smoking it. Get up, stumble towards the old street and gradually disappear into the crowd.

Later, Xiao Dan realized that the old man was a loner.

Because of this, Xiao Dan has a subtle feeling for this painter?