Xi Murong is in that distant place.

This autumn, I received a generous gift. It's a collection of photos sent by friends.

He selected noodles from his 1000 slides-Mongolian Plateau. The day the parcel arrived, it was a rainy afternoon, and I happened to have no class. After opening the kraft paper outside, there is a thick book inside. From the words "Mongolia trip" on the cover, I already know what the content should be. However, I put the book on the glass coffee table in the living room, but I hesitated in the room and dared not turn it over.

I know my friend's heart. He has told me that this is one of his wishes-to find a hometown I have never seen before.

He has been living in Hong Kong. I received his letter and knew when he would leave and come back. After he came back, I also received a phone call from him, knowing that he had suffered a lot for this trip and even fell ill and was admitted to the hospital. But he said that everything is nothing, as long as I like these photos. He said that some slides need to be sent to Australia for development, and he will send them to me as soon as he gets them. He said how eager he was to send those photos to me at once.

At this moment, the photo is in front of us, and the hometown in the distant dream soul is now hidden between these title pages, but why, why have I never been able to summon up the courage to open it?

It's raining outside the window, and the room looks darker and strangely quiet. I walked around the room alone, changed the water in the vase again, straightened the chair cushion and wiped the glass on the coffee table spotless. No one rang the doorbell, and no one called. I walked back and forth in front of the window and door several times, and finally I couldn't find any excuse, so I had to sit down on the sofa.

My heart is pounding. I put the book straight in front of my eyes. I wonder what I will see when I open it. What kind of mood will you have?

But the only thing I can be sure of is that once I open it, I will never be the same again. Then, I opened it. Then, on the first page, in the first photo, it is the river that grandma has said many times about holding her young self in her arms-under the layers of gray-purple clouds, between the layers of dark rolling mountains, the waves of the Xilamulun River are shining and making sounds, and they are mighty and endless. Then, I began to cry, in a dark and quiet room, on a slightly rainy autumn afternoon in the south of China.

That river originated in my mother's hometown-Tengqi, Zhaowudamang, Chisca.

The source of this river is hidden in an inaccessible virgin forest, where there are thousands of miles of forests, birds contend and waterfalls run. From those lonely and huge cold forests, the Xilamulun River gradually gathers, spirals around, gradually widens and flows to the endless grassland.

Mother said that it would take a bus from Mulan paddock to Chahar Duolun to cross a 300-mile forest. Mother said:

"This is really a piece of Jyukai, you can't go on forever. In summer, when I pass by car, the whole forest is fragrant, and I can tell which ones are floral, which ones are grass and which ones are trees. At that time, I always felt that even the fog and dew seemed to be left on my clothes.

Once the car just came out of the forest and reached a prairie, I saw a whole herd of wild horses running past. One of the horses is especially pure white, shining as white as snow. I wish I was riding that white wild horse, not sitting in the car. "

Grandma told me that my mother has always been a gentle and considerate child. In the years when we raised five children, she has always been a gentle and quiet woman. However, I always remember her childhood and her face when she saw the white wild horse.

It has been 22 years since grandma died, and my mother left us this spring. The deceased didn't give up day and night, only the river kept running on that land.

My friend said in the letter:

"I once walked along the Siramuren River for a while. I don't know how you will feel. It is difficult for him to be so careful. He put both things in a long and narrow box and wrapped them in silver gift wrapping paper. I'll open the heavy box first, which contains a simple, beautiful and extremely sharp Mongolian knife.

And in that very light and quiet box, there is a handful of grass, which grows on the grassland in my hometown. The grass is actually yellow, but he told me that when he picked grass near Ming 'an Banner in Chahar League, it turned out to be green.

"qingqing grasslands shake shake, grassland golden light. I drove the sheep to the pasture,

Oh, hello!

You're rushing up the mountain ... "

I've been singing this song since I was a child. I learned it with my sister. It will be nice to sing it in a high voice. On that small island in Hong Kong, under the buttonwood tree in front of our apartment, I also taught my sister in that sweet and happy childhood evening. After two people started singing at the top of their voices, they always couldn't tell who should go to the pasture and who should go to the hill. At the end of the song, two people will always giggle.

Once, I occasionally looked up and saw my father looking down from the window on the third floor of our house, as if looking at us, or not. In the twilight, my father's face gave me a strange and unfamiliar feeling.

The leaves of the phoenix tree are finely divided, and I just looked up at my father under those finely divided compound leaves. My father was born in a prominent family on the grassland. Among the five brothers, he is the youngest and the most loved by his parents and brothers. My curly hair and thick eyebrows are praised by all my elders as "children with fire in their eyes and light in their faces" My father grew up singing and riding a horse on the vast grassland shining with golden light, but many years later.

It will be many, many years until I reach middle age, and I gradually understand my father's feelings when he stands at the window of that apartment and looks down on us.

A month ago, my father came back from Germany. Besides the time for the meeting, he stayed with our family for a few days. Those days, I was anxious to show him those photos, of course, the knife and the bunch of yellow grass.

My father held the grass in his hand, as if he felt the care my friend put in it. He smiled and praised: "Alas! This child. This is really our grass! "

Father also said that this grass should be called bougainvillea or bougainvillea, and he remembered that there should be the name of this grass in the dictionary. However, that night, I looked through several dictionaries at home, but I couldn't find them. Father always said:

"There should be, there should be."

The grass is still in dad's hand. In the light, it seems that some knotted tendons have been added to the back of my father's hand. When doing some little tricks, my father's hand has begun to tremble slightly.

Decades have passed like this, and many of the original ones have been lost. Father! All we can't be sure about now is the name of a ranch. We can't even find the name of that grassland!

On today's map, of course, the grassland still exists, but it is no longer the old name. The symbol of Ming 'an Banner in Chahar League no longer exists, and that name has completely disappeared from this world with the past golden times.

In that distant place, there are only vast and silent land and some vague stories.

There are also green grass branches that spread from the front to the end of the world.

My friend is a competitive person. He told me before he left. He compared two old and new maps and found that some old place names had not changed. He's going to wait until he gets near Ming 'an Banner.

In order not to be disturbed, he didn't contact the official. Everywhere he went, he went to ask the old man alone. When he met old people, he asked them if they knew where the former Ming 'an Banner in Chahar League should be now.

One stop at a time, one person asked, and finally found his father's grassland for him. What he described to me is endless, and no photographic equipment can illuminate that far-reaching and vast grassland.

How can I thank him?

How can I thank him? If it were me, I might not be able to ask a word about this road.

If I were you, I'm afraid that when I talk to people, tears will fall before I say the name of my hometown.

"Excuse me, do you know ..."

"Visit, hometown, you know ..."

No matter standing on the long road of yellow sand or in front of a small shop in the country, I think as soon as I ask each other aloud, my tears will roll down immediately.

Tears are not entirely due to personal sadness. But at the moment when I ask each other loudly, the vicissitudes of my country for decades will pass in my heart like lightning, and I have to ask myself: How did this happen?

At that moment, it seemed that many compatriots with the same fate as me wanted to make it clear, but they never fully said it. Each of us has to bear but resist the bitter past for a lifetime, coming to me silently and meeting at the long roadside in Huangsha.

It seems that as long as I ask each other loudly and say it, it is no longer my own story. As long as I ask each other loudly, the burden of the whole era will be fully exposed, and I will never find any excuse to escape.

My friend finally came. He finally came to my studio with boxes and boxes of slides he took from Alashan Zuo Qi in the west and Manzhou in the east, as well as one story after another he met during his trip.

I put a newly nailed canvas. 120 put it on an easel to fill the screen, pull up the curtains and put out all the lights. The whole thing caught our eye. The sandstorm in Tengger desert is fierce, and the morning fog in Hulunbeier grassland is filled. The little shepherdess is wearing beautiful clothes in Phnom Penh, in that distant place ...

My friend's experience changes slowly with the picture. Sometimes his story coincides with the story I heard when I was a child. I will take it excitedly and tell him what I know about my hometown.

The whole afternoon passed noisily. It seems that they are scrambling to ask questions and speak. Finally, all the slides were finished, the curtains were opened again, and I was still telling him the stories I had heard since I was a child.

My friend smiled quietly and listened quietly. Then, when he received all the arranged slides in his backpack, he looked up at me and said:

"I think you have so many rich feelings now, you should write it out quickly. What worries me is that if one day you really go back to this studio, you may not be able to write a word. "

"How?"

I asked him in surprise.

Yes! How can it be? How can he say that about me? Therefore, there is unhappiness and dissatisfaction in the tone of my question.

My friend didn't answer, just stared at me quietly, with a flash of forgiveness and pity in his eyes. I was shocked and seemed to understand a little.

Maybe he's right.

Maybe, he is not necessarily right. But who knows?

Decades have passed like this. For decades, I have actually been standing by the long road of Huangsha, waiting to ask people about my hometown that is no longer worthy of the name.

Decades later, we finally realized that no matter who comes from China, our life experiences are the same, and whether we tell stories or listen to stories, our hearts are the same.

Because it may not be announced, but there is actually no ending. The hometown that has lost its name and trace may still be inaccessible, just like the whitest cloud on the grassland, which will only stay in that very distant place forever.

So, this is why there is such a book.

Over the years, I have written down some homesickness bit by bit. I collected some poems and essays in several books I published. Because they are scattered, it gives people the impression that …

but ...

The content of this "but" was originally wrapped in Xi Murong's book. She was vaguely aware of her experience of being displaced. ..... She is a noble in Ming 'an Banner of Chahar League, and she is more qualified to tell her homesickness. But all this is compressed in a small field in the book. If this book is a room, everything is put on the table and hung on the wall, while homesickness is put in a translucent box, which should be the natural arrangement in the author's mind, and this way of "settling down" is in line with the mentality of the new generation of readers. No one wants to be ignorant and forget the past, and no one wants to be ignorant and ignorant about what is happening, but it will be "futile" to overemphasize those things. Cherishing the present is the theme of life. ……

Thank you for your comments and analysis. Yes, under the theme of cherishing the present life, my homesickness has been locked in a translucent small box for many years, and only my heart can feel its weight.

Today, I suddenly began to understand that perhaps, for me, the whole hometown is just such a heavy little box.

What you can see and what you can't see, what you can remember and what you can't remember are all in it. Now, it is finally time to open it and cherish it.

Of course, even today, some memories are still unwilling to be fully highlighted, and some accumulated burdens are still not completely released. Who said that?

"A person cannot and will not release himself."

However, since the time has come, let me do my best. From this, I really don't know what will happen to me. On the long road of Huangsha, let me open this box locked in my heart first, and then ask aloud.

This is why there is such a book.

Thanks to Dida, Hongfan and Erya Publishing House for letting me put some of my old works here. Thanks to Shenyuan Publishing House for allowing me to publish my new works and new feelings in this book. Thanks to Li Nan's arrangement and artistic design. I also want to thank many Mongolian towns and villages for their help and encouragement in information.

Of course, I want to thank Dongsheng, a friend. His long journey and his simple and touching wish will promote the publication of such a book.

Looking at the proof of this book under the lamp tonight, the first page is still the Siramuren River flowing quietly through the grassland. I don't know if anyone is still singing that song in that distant place:

The geese flew back to the north,

My home is still far away ... "

At this moment, I released my homesickness locked in my heart for many years. I prayed quietly, never too late.

December 26th, 1987

I finished the manuscript in Bao Dao, Taiwan Province in the early morning.

Play a pop song

Please sing a song for me, and gently call out the great rivers and mountains in my heart with the forgotten old saying and beautiful vibrato.

endless flow

"The geese have flown back to the north again, and my home is still so far away ..." The ballad sung in Mongolian is particularly gentle. It is heartbreaking to think that the river is still flowing on that land.

lake

They told me that in the sky of my hometown, there are always eagles and eagles hovering and blackbirds singing in the trees. There are wild ducks and mandarin ducks with bright feathers by the stream, and there are pairs of gray cranes among the fine grass. There are bears, wolves, foxes, deer, minks, snow leopards and silver rats in the forest, herds of antelopes running on the great plains, wild horses and camels, carp and crucian carp, white catfish in rivers and lakes, and of course, beautiful geese, which always appear in the distant horizon with familiar songs.

lawn

Mongolian plateau, Changchun in winter is short, windy in spring and bitter in winter. Summer is the golden season. From May to early September, waterfalls run in the forest, and the grasslands are full of flowers. Wildflowers are in full bloom on the endless lush grass. There are scarlet memoirs of a geisha, light blue wild hyacinthus orientalis, golden buttercups and purple morning glories, as well as primroses, delphinium and lanky clover. The whole grassland is like an infinitely fragrant brocade, which has been spread to the horizon.

Grazing horses

Mongolian horse is an excellent pony suitable for plateau environment, and its physical strength is hard-working and far from being comparable to other horse breeds. Horses can't be placed near home, they always graze on the open grassland. It is the duty of adults to graze horses. They not only have to run with them all the time, especially on the night of snowstorm or storm. When wild wolves attack young animals, they need the protection of shepherds most. This struggle with nature has cultivated the brave and fearless spirit of the Mongols.

destiny

Ming 'an Banner of Chahar League, what a distant place! Father said: Ming 'an means 1000 sheep in Mongolian, which means that it is a very rich place, where there are many sheep and rich grass. And tonight, under the light, I really can't help thinking, if I could be born and raised in a vast and fat grassland, what kind of fate would I be today?

Have no regrets.

Mongolian proverb says: "If you say yes, don't say pain again." In other words, if I promise you, no matter how hard it is, I won't go back on my word. How bright and bright the blood chest is!

Aima

There are five kinds of domestic animals in Mongolia: horses, cows, camels, sheep and goats. The order of arrangement will never change, as if there were classes in it. Horses are the favorite livestock of Mongols, so they are put in the first place. On the open grassland, people can't do any activities without horses, whether traveling, nomadic, hunting, fighting or running away. In Mongolian proverbs, it is often said that the greatest misfortune in life is: "When I was a teenager, I left my father;" On the way, I left the horse. "

sheep flock

Mongolians often say that sheep on the grassland are pearls scattered on green velvet. Although the wool is thick and thick, it is extremely pure white. When shearing wool in April and May every year, a sheep can cut more than a catty of wool. Wool woven felt is the outer and inner bedding of the dome, and wool fur is the most commonly used cold-proof material for clothes. There are always some goats grazing in the flock. Father said that because goats can know the way, as long as there are goats leading the way, the whole flock will obediently follow.

god

The primitive belief of Mongols is to worship Tengger God, which they call "eternal paradise". Then they worship the earth, mountains and rivers, the sun, the moon and stars, water and fire, ancestors and souls. Every place has its own local god, and every clan or tribe has its own patron saint. Later, although Buddhism was introduced and even became the state religion of Mongolia, when I bowed down on the grassland at the end of the year, my grandmother and parents would say the same thing to me: "The ancestors will bless you." I've always believed it.

rich soil

Many people always think that the Great Wall is desolate and cold, either the Gobi Desert or the endless prairie. In fact, although the Gobi is large, it is definitely not as vast as the emerald grassland. There are also many different topographical differences in the whole Mongolian Plateau from east to west. Starting from the towering forest, Mongolians have called it "Golden Xing 'an Mountains" since ancient times. There are many mountains along the way, beautiful lakes, undulating mountains and huge rivers flowing slowly.

scenery

There is a saying among the elders of Xilin Gol League and Wulanchabu League. Kishan once said, "One day, when my children gave up their comfortable nomadic life and lived in a house made of mud, that was the end of the Mongols!"

The end of the Mongols has arrived! "My father told me that for him," scenery "should be a broad field of vision that will not be blocked in the slightest. After leaving my hometown, even the mountains and rivers in Europe are as embarrassing and narrow as being trapped in a room.

believe

Wudangzhao, located in Wudanggou near Baotou, whose Chinese name is Guangjue Temple, was built under the personal supervision of the first living Buddha, Rob Sangaracuo. Both Mongolians and Tibetans believe in Buddhism, and they never knew there was such a term as "Lamaism". Lama is only a respectful name for monks in Tibetan, not the official name of a sect. Now everyone uses it like this. Can't be corrected. It can only be said that Buddhism believed by Mongolians and Tibetans is a tribe with strong Buddhist colors and heavy tantric rituals.

The emperor's mausoleum

Ejinhoro Banner is the location of Genghis Khan Mausoleum. Yijin means "Lord" in Mongolian, and Holo is "graveyard". The mausoleum of Genghis Khan turned out to be a huge yurt, which can accommodate more than 100 people. The bag was nailed with copper nails, covered with felt and covered with yellow satin. Marui and coral beads hung on the door, wrapped in yellow silk, solemn and gorgeous. Buildings like this were added by later generations and lost their original characteristics.

Past events

Every Mongolian crossing, hearing or thinking of Tengger Desert will think of the story of King De. In every golden sand dune, in every whistling wind and sand, in the vast desert, the name of King De is still being called everywhere.

Zhong Qing

Zhaojun Tomb is located on the bank of the Black River, 30 kilometers south of Hohhot, with mounds and cages of smoke, dozens of miles away, also known as Zhong Qing. When I was a child, I heard the teacher say that it was because of the cold outside the Great Wall, and only Zhaojun's tomb was grass green, so it was called Qingcheng Tomb, so I believed it. In fact, the whole Heihe river basin is green and green, so the mountain is called Daqingshan and the river is called Dahei River, which is infinitely fat. I wonder who the teacher heard it from? Who does the teacher listen to?

search

In this world, some roads have to be faced and trudged alone. No matter how long the road is, no matter how dark the night is, you should go on silently and support yourself. Perhaps it is the innate desire of nomadic people. I am eager to find a world, whether in paintings, books or in the heart of the world. I am eager to find a place rich in water and plants, a world that should still exist in lush flowers.

vast

If there are no horses on the grassland, if there are no birds at sunrise, if it is too late, if everything finally becomes a distant past?

aobao

Mongols believe that there are gods everywhere in nature, and Aobao is often piled on the top of the mountain or on the side of the road. It can be made of stones, bricks and willows. Its size, shape and quantity are not necessarily. Aobao means "heap" in Mongolian. On the border, it is to mark the border, but it is usually used for sacrifice, which is a symbol of the living of gods in mountains and rivers. When they meet Aobao on the journey, the Mongols will dismount and worship before moving on.

aeolian sand

At the turn of spring and summer, the air pressure suddenly changed, and the whole Mongolian plateau was blowing a "Mongolian wind" that everyone smelled of. When the wind blows, it really blocks the sun. Avalanches, wind and sand blowing, huge sand dunes in the desert often change positions overnight. I asked my father, what should those travelers in the desert do when they encounter a sandstorm? Father said, "There are camels! What are you afraid of? "

vast desert

Compared with Gobi, Tengger is only a medium-sized desert. But the whole area is 42,700 square kilometers, and you can only see the endless flat sand. Further north, there are wavy sand dunes, which can only be described as vast as the sea. Therefore, since ancient times, Han people have called Gobi the vast sea.

change

How do we view the world? Nothing is still. How can we tolerate deliberately different changes day after day?

The second volume Wandering Lake

It seems that the mistake has been made, but no one accepts it. This is all I can have.

trade

They told me that in the Tang Dynasty, a northern horse could be exchanged for forty silks. Today, I have 40 years of freedom. Who am I going to exchange that grassland in the north for?

Ulyasutai

Why can't I pass by this city with a smile on a summer day at the age of twenty? After three glasses of wine, I opened the book and said, "Uriantai is where there are many willows." After my father explained, I added a new place name.

Warm fragrance

In his early years, he brought a letter from Zhangjiakou to Yili, Xinjiang, which was the only place to pass. Yang Liuzhi, the first city of Yinsan Nuoyan Khan, weaves a deep and shallow trap in summer, which entangles the hearts of many travelers. Father, why can't I make everything start over? At that time, the whole world was still full of fresh colors and there were many unknown stories.

Zuxun

-Genghis Khan: "Don't hesitate because of the long journey. Just walk. "

Go on, don't cry, don't look back. In the biography of a hero, we never talk about his weakness and sadness.

So go on. Protect the burning hope in your heart on the road of sandstorm. If you meet a place where people live together, consider it your hometown.

In this way, we have to tell our children that our children have come all the way from the source of Nanhe's beautiful mother, and no matter how far they go, we will never really leave the blue grassland.

Tangnurianghai

Far, far above the sea, the lake is as clear as a chrysanthemum lying quietly on the plateau. Under Sayanling is our lost Ku sogou Park.

We will call for taking back the gold and silver taken by others, taking back the horses taken by others, and we will ride faster horses to get them back.

Tang Nuliang Hai, who was easily taken away by others, has never heard of any descendant who once shed a tear for her?

Afternoon on the highway

The road is a river, the speed is noisy, and my car is a lone arrow shooting at the sand hunting (they say this high pressure comes from Inner Mongolia). The sun blows along the smell of grass, and many small flowers blow through Wan Li in Guanshan.

Can you catch up with me at 90 kilometers? Just meeting me at this corner makes me hold my breath.

Calling for the place where the sandstorm comes, my hometown is full of tears in the speeding car.

confiscate

Please sing a song for me. Please use the forgotten ancient language and beautiful vibrato to gently call out the great rivers and mountains in my heart. The fragrance that only exists outside the Great Wall is so sad. If you don't like to hear it, it's because there is no desire for you in the song. We always have to sing it again and again. Think of the grassland shining with golden light, think of the sandstorm whistling through the desert, and think of the heroes riding horses and returning to their hometown from the edge of Yinshan Mountain.

destiny

Deep sea and the moon

I suffocated in the blue homesickness, and Daisy had a white dream beyond the Great Wall.

Just when the grass left me, I should be herding sheep on the hillside. The man I love will see my red skirt flying while riding a horse. Tonight, Europe is foggy. I am lost in a gray alley, and the grass outside the Great Wall is leaving.

Secret pain

I don't only have memories of you, you know, I have many clues in my heart.

However, there are some things that I can't touch, just a pain in my heart, so when the moon comes out, I want to imagine how you smile, but I never dare to imagine how it shines in my hometown beyond the Great Wall.

Changchengyao

Although there has been a history of war between cities, how many customs you have passed and how many joys and sorrows you have paid, you will always be a ruthless building, squatting on the top of barren hills and coldly looking at human grievances.

Why can't you write it when you sing? You can't write a story, but if you mention it, there will be a fire burning with you. Wan Li has your face for thousands of years, your clouds, your trees and your wind.

Under the Yinshan Mountain in Chilechuan, the moonlight should be like water tonight, and the Yellow River will still pass by you tonight and flow into my sleepless dream.

homesickness

The song of my hometown is a flute in Qingyuan.

It always rings with the moon at night.

The face of my hometown is a vague disappointment.

Like waves in the fog after parting.

Homesickness is a tree without rings, and it will never grow old.

American Desperado

The place where the sandstorm came has a name. My father said, ah, that's your hometown. The grassland outside the Great Wall is thousands of miles away. Wan Li's mother said, Ah, there is only one name. When the sandstorm begins, there will be a geomantic omen in my hometown, but as soon as the sandstorm falls, there is nowhere to stop looking for clouds in my hometown. The wandering eagle waved to me not just to call, please let me cross the sky with you and fly to the vivid mountain. A place I have never seen before is actually my hometown. There is only one name. In a dark city, I can't

Xinquan

Listen carefully, the bell is passing through the dark jungle, through the muddy night, through the years when we planted thorns ourselves, as if it were the quietest moment in life. I have realized something, and I hope it is converging into a vivid image before it is published, so please forgive me for not paying attention to your sadness and hesitation in the shadow, that is, if you finally shed tears, I will regard it as the spring water flowing from the mountain after the snow melts.

Salt floating lake grass

I have been looking for a place to belong. Although floating has always been my name, I still long for a little involvement, a little acquiescence, a piece of land that can be close to each other, so that I can live and die at the same time.

In the meantime, I have no reason to use love to breed on the windward rocks, unless it is to lure you back, and show you the beautiful memories that have been hidden in my heart with this last drought and exhaustion ending.

When gentleness and heroism are both a woman's character, there is no choice from then on. This is the last wish of the lake, and it is also my life's desperate efforts.

Please pick it up as much as possible. It's not too late. After all, you finally know what I am thinking.

-A lonely lake on the Mongolian plateau "Qigenor" is near.

The sun suddenly dried up, only to find that the bottom of the lake was covered with agates and precious stones.

seagull

Bai Niao, who just started, drew an arc in the clear sky. The excited heart can't avoid the storm on the road ahead and the flying daggers heading for fate.

hawk

Writing is sometimes just a cool desire, which has nothing to do with regret or sadness. I just want to cross the secluded path again and quietly visit the pecked one in the distant and dark forest.

There are some you can see on the following website. There are too many words to type. Sorry, I can't finish it for you:: http://210.38.240.36/youth/book/weekbook/bookdata/ximu1/content.htm.