Essays describing water towns in the south of the Yangtze River

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"Jiangnan Water Village"

Article/Drinking good wine is like a spring

I was born in Zhejiang, south of the Yangtze River. Everyone says it is beautiful there, like heaven. I can't tell whether they are right because not all of them have been to Jiangnan. The legendary water town. Beautiful paradise.

Before I was thirteen years old, I was in Zhejiang; after I was thirteen years old, I came to another place. Mom said, leaving home. Before the age of eighteen, I had no concept of home. Wherever there is my mother, it is my home. After the age of eighteen, I began to miss the place where I spent the first days and nights of my life. Just because I miss it means that I can never go back.

I was a strange child. My nurse said that I could speak complete sentences when I was ten months old, but I still couldn’t walk until I was three or four years old. At that time, she was worried about whether the child’s legs were healthy. Just like ordinary people, one day I suddenly learned to walk. My nurse was so happy that she hugged me and said with tears in her eyes: My baby can walk! My baby can walk!

The school I attended was called a school at that time. Our teacher lectured in dialect and we never paid attention in every class.

At that time, I envied the young women passing by on the road. They had beautiful faces, sweet smiles and long hair. When I finally became such a young woman, with a beautiful face, a sweet smile and long hair, I could no longer find that feeling of joy. It seems like a world that has been forever sealed in a time in the past, where the sun shines brightly, where flowers bloom all year round, where butterflies wander tirelessly among the large rapeseed flowers.

In life, the closest person in consciousness is the wet nurse. The first time I came into this world was spent in her arms. When I was three months old, my mother entrusted me to my wet nurse like a load of pink meat. Busy with work. Haha I rarely go back to my hometown now, but every time I go back I always have to stay at my nanny’s house for a few nights. Let’s talk about the changes in my hometown, my growth outside the home, and even the glorious story of bedwetting when I was a child. It was with her that I truly felt the warmth of home, the warmth of a gentle breeze blowing across my face. I don’t know how attached I am that when I’m in a foreign land, I always dream about the maternal tenderness that I accompanied every day when I was a child.

When I was a child, I always liked to escape from the house in the scorching sun at noon and run around in the fields with my beloved Dalmatian dog. Everything there is filled with our joyful voices. When you are tired, just find a place to sit down and rest. The fragrance of green grass and the warmth of earth are everywhere around you. It will be unforgettable to this day and will be remembered forever.

Summer is the most memorable day. There are always so many beautiful things in summer. For example, cicadas, for example, climb onto the branches early every year at the beginning of summer and start singing happily all summer long. We always tie a plastic bag with a thin wire on a long bamboo pole, and we don't know how many of these little creatures we catch throughout the summer. Later, a brave child took these little things that screamed all day long and asked his mother to cook them. The black shells were opened and the meat inside was tender and beautiful. This bold move led to more frequent cicada hunting campaigns, but the strange thing is that this tenacious little life did not perish because of this. They still appeared on the branches on time when the next spring came to an end. While admiring their vitality, I had to think of other things that were as deep in my heart as the cicadas.

The creek has always been children’s favorite place. When summer arrives, the temperature of the stream rises enough to allow you to roll up your pants and play in the water without restraint. Fishing is of course an indispensable option. Looking at the clear and bright river water, you can clearly see the bottom. One after another, small silvery fish reflect the golden light of the sun and swim between the stones and sand. Coupled with the green water plants mixed in during the period, it is a beautiful scene. The most irresistible thing at this time is the children's desire to go into the water. They usually ignore their parents' scolding and insist on going into the water. Even if I go home and get scolded, I won’t hesitate. But it is a pity that this kind of fish is accustomed to living in streams. Even if it is carefully brought home in a plastic bag, it cannot be kept for a long time. It usually dies quickly, leaving a child to wake up to them the next morning. The little white corpse was filled with regret.

As difficult as the fish living in the stream to feed are the sparrows. The little gray sparrows are captured and locked in a small cage made of bamboo. No matter how hard you feed them, they always die in the middle of the night as if they have agreed to do so. The children who are left with infinite regret look at their little corpses in confusion, and then the sad children will build small graves for them, a raised mound as big as a bowl, with some stones and stones in front like tombstones. The little wild flowers collected accompany these little creatures who died early to fly to heaven.

At that time we didn’t know what kind of life was allowed to enter heaven. After death, all souls in our little naive hearts would be led to heaven by beautiful angels with white wings. Therefore, death, in our childhood impression, is not dark but beautiful and going to another strange and beautiful place.

I had such a beautiful impression until I witnessed the death of an adult, the death of a truly living person. He was Huahua's father, a man in his prime who committed suicide by drinking pesticide.

He was not dead when we saw him. He was lying on the bed board that had just been moved out of their house. He was spitting things out from his mouth, with a strong pungent smell of pesticides. Huahua's mother sat on the side crying, while Huahua looked at his mother at a loss. At our age at that time, it was impossible to understand how terrible things happened. We only saw the serious expressions of the adults, the hoarse crying of Huahua's mother, and the scene of Huahua's father vomiting out in pain before dying. Later, Huahua’s father died at noon that day. I still remember the scorching sun and people’s sad expressions at noon that day. From then on, we began to fear death, and in our little simple minds began to vaguely understand that death was not what we thought before, where there were beautiful angels and warm sunshine. It took me a long time to understand that Huahua’s father committed suicide because of a quarrel with Huahua’s mother, but that was already many years later.

Later Huahua’s mother recruited a loyal mountain man to be Huahua’s father. Two years later, Huahua gave birth to a younger brother. Huahua has been living in that new home and is now married. After marrying his daughter-in-law, he separated his own family.

My biggest surprise when I returned home this time was that many of my childhood classmates and friends had already married, and some were even fathers and mothers. Apart from the surprise, I also lamented that the world is changing so fast. In the blink of an eye, the little kid with a runny nose and lice turned out to be a woman, a husband, and a parent in a serious way. And I, after studying abroad for many years and wandering around for many years, still returned to my hometown alone, the place where I was born and raised.

When a person is wandering in a foreign land, he will always inadvertently touch the softest place in his heart, because there is the field where I spent the first time of my life, where there are lively fish and shrimps and crystal clear water. At the bottom of the creek, there are my dearest little friends with whom I spent happy childhood times, and my dear wet nurse. That is my home, my dear Jiangnan, my beloved water town.

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"Jiangnan Water Town"

Written by Cong Lijie

Jiangnan has always been a very feminine term to me, as The lilac girl in the poem gives rise to some inexplicable joy and yearning. Now when I walk through Jiangnan, the most impressive thing is that Jiangnan is decorated, nourished and cared for by water.

The water in Jiangnan is easy to adapt to. Sitting on the tourist bus, you can see a pool of water in the fields on the roadside everywhere, and the summer flowers are blooming. The largest body of water in Jiangnan is Taihu Lake. Wuxi, where Taihu Lake is located, is a clean and elegant city. Although it is not big, it shows the temperament of Xiaojiabiyu everywhere. The streets of Wuxi are like natural gardens, with meticulously pruned plants that make people suspect that these plants have been programmed to grow.

When I first arrived at Taihu Lake, I felt regretful. I felt that I should have seen the lake first and then the sea. Because lakes and seas always have limitations. Although Taihu Lake is very large, its boundaries are regrettable in its vastness, and it always feels like it is not enough for imagination. I took an exaggerated photo by the Taihu Lake. When I came back to look at it, I suddenly remembered the sentence "forgetting each other in the rivers and lakes". Maybe the rivers and lakes are like this. On both sides of time, there are always countless regrets.

My daughter has been looking forward to getting to Wuzhen as soon as possible, so she was a little impatient with the previous scenery. I am a little worried about her persistence. I wonder if Wuzhen will be as peaceful, remote, simple and clear as she wishes. When I arrived in Wuzhen, my worries finally came to an end. Wuzhen is worthy of being the cover of Jiangnan, China, with its inherent beauty. The beautiful river, the quaint stone bridge, and the very old and very old houses seem to take people back to the Ming and Qing Dynasties in an instant. Walking on the streets of Wuzhen, there is always an unreal feeling. Those batik fabrics and those charming fans seem to have an inexplicable emotion hidden in them, making people feel like they are in a trance about the past and present life. My daughter took many photos of the scenery in Wuzhen, and she specifically refused to let me join in the scenery, saying that the scenery would change without me. To this, I can only remain noncommittal.

It’s always a bit overwhelming to experience Jiangnan with the feelings of a northerner. When we arrived at West Lake, this feeling was particularly strong. I am not a typical northern woman, but when I arrived at West Lake, I still felt that I was too northern. The delicate beauty and talent of West Lake have always made me feel ashamed. It seems that the North has always been a strong warrior, and West Lake has always been reciting poems and painting. The cultural relics, myths and legends here permeate every bridge and every section of the road. After thousands of years of hard work, they have transformed into the soul of West Lake. We took a luxury yacht to tour the West Lake, which made me a little more regretful. The West Lake requires boating, a wooden boat. In this way, if I have another chance, I will definitely come and stay by the West Lake for a few days to fulfill my dream of boating on the West Lake.

Hope this helps.