Hand in hand with charming prose

1. Traveling to Zhouzhuang

On this trip to Zhouzhuang, what lingered in my dreams was the Kun Opera I heard accidentally in the deep alleys! At that time, my companions all went to pick up the car and prepare to go home. I had not finished my wandering, so accompanied by my sister and classmate Tang, I walked towards the deep alley again. But they were both tired, one was busy sending WeChat messages and the other was busy chatting about Q, so they sat on the stone board next to the bridge. I stood on the bridge for a while, watching the boat girl singing a ditty. As I rowed the cruise ships under the bridge, I felt like "you stand on the bridge and look at the scenery, and the people watching the scenery are watching you upstairs." Suddenly, time and space are far apart, and we are no longer among the bustling tourists, but in a distant artistic conception of "the dawn wind and the waning moon on the willow bank". I walked along the stone road toward the depths of the alley. Facing the street was an antique shop specializing in blue and white porcelain. It was probably lunch break, and there was only an old man in the house, lying on a lounge chair and taking a nap, facing inwards, so it was inconvenient to walk in.

I just stood at the door and carefully looked at the blue and white patterns on the utensils in the room. They were strange and had no unified style. There was rice paper and pen, ink, paper and inkstones on a large mahogany table. I don’t know if this is just a display for tourists to enjoy, or if the old man is enjoying this? However, there was indeed an "artistic" middle-aged man in the tourist area who impromptuly wrote an acrostic poem for his sister, writing it on a piece of white paper. My group of friends and I also often play acrostic poems. They are not anything advanced, they are just auspicious words. I must have written them frequently and practiced them. But the handwriting is very strong and penetrates the back of the paper. It can also be regarded as a work of art. Come on. I chatted with him for a few words, but my companion had already left, and I didn't dare to leave him behind. I felt a sense of panic in a strange place without my companion. When I walked out of the house, I heard the old man's shout. Of course I knew that he was also trying to win business, but I could also see that he sincerely wanted to write something to me, but I left.

Zhouzhuang requires careful tasting and chance to truly understand its charm. It is only suitable for one person to wander or for two people to walk quietly and whisper about the history in its stone slabs and the painted walls with raised eaves. I leisurely walked alone on the bluestone. The sky was lead-colored - a bright lead color, just like the background color of the ink painting. The white walls, black tiles, bluestone slabs, and the oil-paper umbrellas of the ancient shops and Zhumen, just formed a Jiangnan rain alley. scenery. I looked at a few stubborn green grasses in the corner. A touch of green in the cool tones suddenly made the alley full of vitality, like the beautiful flowers blooming on the dead trunks of thousands of years, which made people think of despair. The feeling of rebirth. At this time, the melodious babbling of Kunqu Opera came to my ears. I followed the sound and walked over, thinking that there was a performance somewhere. Just like when I came here, I saw a teahouse where men and women hugged each other. Pipa, the love story of Lu You and Tang Wan in "The Phoenix" while playing and singing. I hurriedly came closer... The scene I saw made me smile: it turned out to be an old lady, wearing a blue cloth flower scarf around her head, sitting on a chair with squinted eyes, and there was a long and long table on the table next to her. In the past, the semiconductor radio that we often saw, that catchy tune came from there. The old lady was very intoxicated. On such an afternoon, I listened to music quietly and took a nap. All the worldly prosperity was abandoned to the tourists on the bank of the "Qinhuai River". Here there was only the purity and elegance of a paradise, peace and beauty. I glimpsed the heartbeat of Zhouzhuang in an instant: it was like this old lady, simple and peaceful. No matter how noisy the people outside the door were, she would immerse herself in her own fun, live alone, accept and tolerate all the prosperity of the world, and in her eyes Deep down in my heart, the peace I always feel cannot be affected by anyone from the outside world, such as the streets, bluestone slabs, white walls and green tiles, the withered and flourishing ginkgo trees, the ups and downs of Kunqu Opera... They have calmed down and developed a self-styled style. , without such a style, there would be no Zhouzhuang.

I stood still for a while and walked towards the direction where my sister was sitting. They were really looking around for me, and I suddenly felt that my trip was worthwhile.

2. Encountering Zuibaichi

Midsummer is here again, and every time this time reminds me of the lotus in my hometown, I took my daughter to Songjiang on a not-so-hot afternoon. Watching lotuses in Sixian Park. I have been to Sixian Park many times, and I can’t find the scenery in a place that is too familiar. My daughter said that it would be better to go to a new place, maybe there would be new discoveries. I agree very much. My daughter is a weird and wonderful girl who often speaks amazing words. She is my best partner and companion when going out. We searched in the subway station and pointed out the name "Zuibai Pond". She said that the name reminded people of Li Bai and it must be a poetic place. We hit it off right away and it was at this point that we hit it off.

We were not disappointed. When we got out of the subway, we saw the entrance of Zuibaichi Park. Behind the white wall were lush trees. There was a cool and ancient atmosphere immediately seeping out. We saw the cornices before we even entered. The carved walls are calling us. I like this exquisite thing. The scenery in the city cannot be vast, but it can be exquisite, small and orderly. Every pavilion, every corner, every scene, wherever the eyes fall, is an independent scenery. For example, a few banana trees in the corner remind people of the interest of a couple in ancient poetry writing couplets on banana leaves. The husband wrote: "Who is busy planting bananas, and it will be Xiaoxiao in the morning and Xiaoxiao in the evening." When the wife saw it, He also wrote: "You are so bored that you plant bananas and blame them." It has the charm of life.

Another example is these bamboos. When you think of the Xiaoxiang Garden in "A Dream of Red Mansions", "the phoenix tails are thick and the dragons sing thinly", the white walls, black tiles, bamboos and strange rocks set off against each other, creating a beautiful picture. It is conceivable that the craftsmen who designed the gardens had unique thoughts. While admiring the scenery, I felt grateful for their wisdom.

There are five major classical gardens in Shanghai, namely Shanghai Yu Garden, Jiading Ancient Ripple Garden, Qiuxia Garden, Qingpu Qushui Garden and Songjiang Zuibai Pond. Zuibaichi is the oldest garden among the five major gardens. It was the private garden of an official family in the Song Dynasty. When the garden was built, it was thought that Li Bai would be intoxicated and Bai Juyi would be intoxicated, so it was named "Zui Baichi" involving two people. I guess the owner must have stolen the name when he thought of it. I'm so happy, it shows that being arty was also a fashion at that time, and at least being elegant was a wonderful thing.

What impressed me most about Zuibaichi was its tranquility. The ancient trees inside are towering, and the huge shade supports a shade in midsummer. My daughter accurately said: "Mom, this is a wonderland." We strolled along the cobblestone paths, which were decorated with strange stone shapes from the roadside. Famous guzheng music played from the speakers, giving the entire garden a sense of tranquility. Maybe it was the time for people to take a nap in the midsummer afternoon, or maybe it was driven by the busy pace of urban life. There were not many tourists in the park. There was only an old man playing cards on a stone table and bench under a big tree. It was a kind of playing card with content similar to mahjong and similar shape to playing cards - the kind of playing cards my grandma with bound feet used to play when she was alive. I had seen them when I was a child, but I didn't expect to see them again here. I stood behind them and watched for a while, but my daughter finally couldn't bear it anymore, and we walked deeper into the garden again. We didn't know the direction and just followed our feelings. However, the ingenuity and exquisiteness of the garden always made us turn to the same road as soon as we turned around. My daughter said it was like a maze. Later, we followed a young man who loved photography to look for places with lotus flowers.

The place where lotus leaves are planted is "Zuibai Pond". Entering a moon gate, what comes into view is a square pool. The pool is surrounded by waterside pavilions and pavilions with hollow carvings. The carvings are exquisite. We have no intention of paying attention to these details. Our eyes greedily look at the green of the pool, which is the most beautiful lotus. period, it appears in front of us in its most abundant form. The photographer has chosen the best place to set up his stand. In fact, the lotus here is far less wild and domineering than the lotus in the lotus pond in our hometown. The lotus here is She is just a lady who has read a lot of poetry and books. She is slim and very shy, but she is still a little fragile and a little shy. We walked around the lotus pond, took a few photos with our mobile phones, and walked elsewhere.

I prefer to visit open places with ancient trees or dense shade. A gust of wind blows by, scattering bright yellow leaves from tall unknown trees like a goddess scattering flowers. Flying gracefully, my daughter happily picked up this heavenly letter with her hands. My daughter once again said that this place looks like a place where gods live. So I sat on a bench with an old tree as my back, and began to meditate in a decent manner—not deliberately, for real. Such a scene and such an artistic conception can only fit the mood expressed at this time by sitting quietly. My daughter also sat quietly on the grass playing with the leaves she had captured, thinking about the fairy tales in her mind. We were in peace until the phone rang: my husband said it was raining outside and asked us if we had brought umbrellas.

But we don’t get a drop of rain at all! The scorching sun in July has no power here at all. Does the heavy rain also pity this quiet place? The daughter exclaimed loudly again: This is where the gods live!

We haven’t fully explored the place where the gods live, and we still can’t deeply feel its essence. We can only get a quiet part of it. I think I will come here often in the future...