Wuzhen, a prose once familiar with the scenery.

"Jiangnan is good and the scenery is old. When spring comes, the sun rises from the river, the flowers on the river are brighter than red, and the green river is greener than the blue grass. Can you not remember Jiangnan? " This is the drunken poet Bai Juyi recalling the beautiful scenery of Jiangnan in his later years. I don't know whether the poet has been to Wuzhen, but I stubbornly believe that the soul and spirit of Jiangnan have long been quietly stationed in Wuzhen's misty rain dream.

First, Wuzhen, my Jiangnan complex

Bo Er said that our ancestors once lived somewhere south of the Yangtze River. Because our family name is "Tuisitang" and because of the famous "Tuisitang", my fourth brother and I have been searching in Tongli with our remaining wings, looking for the water and soil that our ancestors may have rested on, which is the so-called "root" pulse.

I don't know why we are looking for it. Maybe it's admiration for the water and soil here? Maybe it's some kind of lingering emotion Maybe it's the traction of past lives? Maybe ... I don't know. I just keep thinking.

Jiangnan, the mysterious Jiangnan, is as close as a mystery. Maybe from the day I knew, the symbols hidden in my blood began to call. Although those ancient Egyptians scattered in the long river of time have long since disappeared.

Jiangnan, I have only been to Suzhou, Nantong, Shaoxing and Tongli. Hangzhou, missed it. But I stubbornly believe that they are not the Jiangnan in my heart.

What's Jiangnan like?

In my dream, Jiangnan is a small town full of green. It's wet bluestone roads and ticking eaves; It was sketched by Wuwa and Liu An's family in ink and wash. It is a girl wearing blue calico, walking through a long rain lane with an oil-paper umbrella; It is the uncle on the side of the small bridge who carries the burden and a bowl of steaming soybean milk at fifty cents; It is a slow time when the autumn wind shakes off the fragrance of osmanthus. ...

Sometimes I have to believe that a million years is not a myth. You have never seen a person, an object or a place, but you can't look at it at a glance, such as the people you knew in your last life, the things you owned and the places you have been.

In the slow music with time like water, an ink town, a quiet town in misty rain and fog, and a town that can run freely came into view, throbbing and deeply rooted in my heart. Wuzhen is out of place with Jiangnan in my heart. Jiangnan should be such an ancient and lively water town. Do not change for the glitz of the world, still black and beautiful.

Wuzhen, only with the people you love, here, watching the clouds roll and relax, let the years be quiet. Wuzhen, where it is appropriate to walk hand in hand with friends through one stone arch bridge after another. * * * Old. This is the voice of countless men and women who love Time flies. It's mine too.

"Miracles are every moment that people who believe in miracles see, hear and feel. Our miracle is that I walk towards you and you walk towards me. "

"I hope the earth is flat, so that I can look at you without obstacles."

"Why doesn't that tower have a top?"

"If I can't see you, I will always cover it, as high as the sky."

"So, the purpose of my coming here is to build a tower top, so that you will never think of me again."

"There will be no miracles in life. A gaze that once stayed in my eyes was just an accident. There is no miracle in life, and the dead leaves falling in a windless world are just an accident. "

……

Looking back at this TV series, the film has been blurred, but it still tastes like lightning after more than 20 years.

Lin wrote: Who doesn't have one or two graceful flowers on the twig?

Who can say that young and short-lived love is not love? Although it has long been lost in time, although it is only a dead leaf in a dream, it is alive and should have roots. Wuzhen in the south of the Yangtze River is most suitable for this background.

Wuzhen, a water town in northern Zhejiang, is not only the Wuzhen where Miss Ying and Wen are supposed to be, but also the Wuzhen where Mao Dun was a generation of literary giants and was once a slow Wuzhen. What a magical and rich land is this?

Dreams are not real. Life is a truth that can be seen, heard and touched. I also want to build a tower for myself.

Second, Wuzhen faces the evening.

In the golden autumn of 20 16, I took my daughter Yi, who had just been admitted to the university, all the way to find it, and arrived at Wuzhen Bridge at three or four o'clock in the afternoon. The sun shyly hid in the clouds and refused to come out.

Wuzhen Bridge, spanning the northern and southern rivers of Wuzhen. Wuzhen Bridge is different from most bridges in China. Its bridge railings are all made of wood, connected by wood carvings and prints, and the handrails are also engraved with patterns. The content of woodcarving is the Confucian doctrine of propriety, righteousness, filial piety and honesty. Obviously, you can only see "Dunyi Jiaozi" and "Joy of Bamboo Valley", and the other handwriting is too vague.

Urban river is also called "Chexi" or "Tiaoxi" among the elderly in Wuzhen. I prefer the name "Chexi". It's beautiful, elegant and human.

Looking from Wuzhen Bridge, you can see the water in this area and the east and west gates on both sides. In the old Wuzhen-Dongzha in the east of the bridge, rows of black tiles overlap on the roof and cornices of the powder wall, casting large shadows. Shadows of black and blue.

Unknown trees by the river and behind the house are covered with lush crowns. Hand in hand, shoulder to shoulder, they outlined the soft lines of Chexi. The emerald line, at the extreme of the eyes, was cut into two beautiful arcs by the distant bridge. The dense shade falls on the river bank. At first glance, it seems to give the traffic a heavy color and outline the edge. Black and blue edges.

The bright river in the middle is like a clear lake, clear and bright. There is a small round oasis in the center of Bihong. Occasionally, the boat paddles around the oasis, and the paddle rises and falls. For a time, ripples broke the silence of Yishui, and then the water waves were quiet.

"Wuzhen is Wuzhen because its background color is dark."

If there is no crowd and noise in the background color of Wuzhen, it will always be a white wall and a tile locked on the painting axis, indifferent to the quiet ink painting. How nice!

The shooting scene of Time flies is mainly in Dongzha. Dongzha dwellings, waterfront dwellings, small bridges and flowing water, pavilions on the bridge are wonderful. Push open a wooden lattice window. You are watching the scenery on the bridge, and the people watching the scenery are watching you upstairs. Here, as long as you calm down and your eyes automatically screen out too many people like mirror images, then every wooden window and stone slab bridge here is a broken chapter.

The encounter between Miss Ying and Wen originated from that thrilling visit to Wuzhen. Since then, two lonely souls have been trapped in Wuzhen, one wandering on the covered bridge forever, and the other frozen in front of the wooden lattice window.

Love is a tormenting dream. "Time flies like water" gives Wuzhen a milky white dream covered with gold gauze on an inky background, like a light fog floating at the end of Chexi, with gold in white. Even sometimes this dream, it is struggling and sobbing.

Isn't this white fog covered with golden sunshine a portrayal of our struggle with reality and ideals? This reminds me of my friend Gu Kangning's painting Sunshine in the Jungle. Sunshine is warm and gives hope to lonely people. Walking in this reinforced concrete world, there is no despair. Wuzhen, in a sense, is the sunshine of the jungle.

Most of the buildings in Dongzha are built by water, with dignified and beautiful double eaves; The high horse head wall stands tall; Uva is row upon row; The wind and rain covered bridges are winding; Narrow street slabs and potholes; The white walls were mottled by the wind and rain. This is a glimpse of the world and a trace of the years.

Some people say: Wuzhen repairs the old as before. I said: it is natural to be old. Naturally and safely.

Under Wuzhen Bridge, it is the periphery of Dongzha Scenic Area. Many aborigines in Dongzha still live here today. Shops, wooden two-story buildings, wooden doors and wooden lattice windows on both sides of the strip bluestone road have been eroded by time, revealing the original color of wood. Open. A dazzling array of things.

Iron bars, anchors, shovels, and many other tools I can't explain are listed in the blacksmith shop. There are screens, baskets, brooms, bamboo umbrellas and blue and white cloth shoes in the grocery store ... I looked at the plain faces and was in a trance. This is a group of people who live outside modern civilization and guard the old times. They are forgotten people and don't care about the word "forgetting" itself, because forgetting is someone else's business, not their own. They only care about their ordinary days. Their eyes and open cocooned palms clearly show the simplicity and persistence of the "artisan spirit". Even though there are few tourists in their shop, they still insist on their desperate industry. How many years can these old workshops and crafts last? Ten years? Twenty years? This reminds me of the curator of Zhaoming College. His sigh scattered outside the bustling world touched me again and again.

Here, there are more characteristic handmade food workshops, garment shops, teahouses and restaurants. ...

When the decline of tradition and the prosperity of tourism have become a trend, is this surge of people also a contradictory sorrow in Wuzhen?

Let me think about finding the smartest person in the world and enjoying this dark town.

If water is the blood of Wuzhen and the bridge is the skeleton of Wuzhen, then the wind and rain corridor is the arch of Wuzhen and the most fascinating place. The promenade is built around the river bank with Uwa as the roof and logs as the columns, and it is winding. There is a railing seat near the river bank in the promenade, which is called: beauty depends. This name is quite interesting, and it sounds very lazy. Walking and sitting here is not afraid of the wind and rain. It's best to listen to the sound of rain under the eaves on rainy days and watch the wind blowing and the waves rippling. The best interpretation is Lin's lyrics: it's better to hide from the rain with you than to rain.

Bridge is the biggest feature of Wuzhen. Wuzhen without bridge is not Wuzhen. I looked out from a stone arch bridge, and the beautiful images of one arch bridge after another in the east were reflected on the river, like May and like a broad bow. There are over 70 bridges in Wuzhen. There are seven bridges on Dongzha River. Yingjiaqiao, the westernmost bridge, is said to have sold glutinous rice balls here by Lv Dongbin, and Mao Dun, a writer, often played here when he was a child. The easternmost Fengyuan Shuangqiao is near Caishen Bay. Fengyuan Shuangqiao is a covered bridge, which is divided into two rows with a lattice fence. Walking on this bridge, men left and women right, walking on both sides, said: Yingyuan is very festive.

Not far from Fengyuan Shuangqiao is Mu Xin's former residence. It is also a must for my trip.

It's getting late and there is no sun. No sunset glow. There are fewer and fewer tourists. Otherwise, this is the most beautiful moment of a day in Wuzhen. At this time, there is a faint fog floating on the river, reflecting bright lights, which has a trance-like meaning. It's hard to leave.

It's just that the weather is still sultry. Will it rain tomorrow? I hope so.

Third, the sky is blue and so on.

In the early morning of Wuzhen, the sun is still hiding in thick clouds. You can feel the water vapor dripping in the air with your nose. Today's rain seems indispensable. It seems that it rained in the blink of an eye.

There are three roads and a river at the entrance of Dongzha. The river is surrounded by green trees on the island, which is quiet and calm. And the island is like a lotus leaf floating on the water, which withered the summer capacity with the vegetation and jungle on the island in winter. Pine trees on the island, with tower-shaped arrow tips, stand half in the sun, and Shimada Hanzo is in the mud and overflowing water waves. The most beautiful thing is the high and low green, which seems to be floating around in different degrees this autumn, deep and shallow, and yellow. Still water flows deeply, and the shadows of trees are dark and light, which is very oily. The wind is blowing from the south and the river is rippling gently.

A ferryman in a white tunic stood at the bow, waving his wooden paddle and coming from a distance. There is a ferry not far away. Next to the ferry is a street that is not very wide, and the street porch is crowded. Turn around and look west, too. There is a one-meter-wide green slate bamboo road in the middle, which extends into the distance step by step.

On both sides of the path, there is a bamboo fence more than a foot high, surrounded by two narrow and exquisite bamboo forests. "Looking forward to the Olympics, bamboo is embarrassed." The bamboo in the book of songs is what I look like before my eyes, tall and straight, green. The wind is coming, and the leaves are stubborn.

At the end of the bamboo path, at the intersection of the paths on both sides, people are dark and daunting.

Turn around, buy tickets, take a boat. Eight people fight for a boat. The swaying man is very calm when he advances and retreats. It seems that the whole world is in his palm and in his eyes. Sailing on the blue waves, people are traveling in a picture world. Listening to the slow paddle sound, we began to appreciate the taste of Wuzhen, which is full of deep blue history.

The boat took us around the Woods on the island, and the oncoming wide waters were Fortune Bay. The rivers in Wuzhen are generally narrow and cross-shaped, making it difficult for ships to turn around, so the villagers widened the rivers here. Because it is close to the God of Wealth Hall, it is named God of Wealth Bay. Convenient transportation has naturally become a bustling place where villagers gather. Fengyuan Shuangqiao is here, because it means auspiciousness, so it is bustling and people come and go almost all year round. I don't want to join in the fun

When Fortune Bay turns around, it is the narrow Dongshi River. Water vapor permeates the air. The blue sky seems to be lower, attached to the top of Uva in the distance.

The rain is still stingy, but it has lifted my appetite. I saw one or two small shops selling blue and white cloth umbrellas in the corridor south of the river bank, so I slipped past my eyes. Sisao, who is a few years older than me, left a message on WeChat, telling me to remember to take photos with my umbrella. It turns out that Wuzhen is not just my personal complex, but the "moon" with "water" in thousands of rivers.

To the north of the river bank is the residence of Dongzha residents. The cornerstone of the house is a stone pillar, above the river. Under the cornerstone, there are dark green ripples. These houses on the North Shore are called "Shui Ge". Some people in Shui Ge have three windows facing the water, most of which are closed with blue and white curtains. Blue and white flowers spread out on the curtain, facing the dense crowd separated by a river, and the flowers are winding and quiet, so quiet that people can't bear to disturb them. Others, at the gate facing the river, there are layers of trapezoidal stone piers. For these families in Shui Ge, it is the most natural thing to open the window or go directly to the dock, draw water with buckets, and chat with acquaintances on board.

Mr. Mao Dun wrote in "Mountains and Rivers on Earth": "I heard that there is a river outside the back door. Standing at the back door (the county is the gate of the villagers), you can draw water with buckets. When you wake up in the middle of the night, you can hear shouting and bullying. It is always a bit difficult to form an image."

This is the academy that Mr. Mao Dun yearned for when he was a child. Two-story wooden building with carved beams and painted buildings and pink walls on the first floor is very conspicuous.

The awning boat wobbled, and from time to time, big trees slanted out from the shore. Gonggong took us through one stone arch bridge after another, and some bridges were covered with exquisite patterns, auspicious clouds and swastikas. The nameless grass is stubbornly embedded in the cracks between stones, and it is a fluffy green.

Small bridges flow, old roads lean horses. This is Wuzhen in the south of the Yangtze River. My thoughts are everywhere. Except for crowds as crowded as ants.

I looked greedily at the pillow people on both sides of the river and couldn't help but close my eyes and listen to the gurgling sound of paddles. The expectation time is getting slower and slower. This trip is too hasty.

The ship docked at the south bank of the river, and the wind and rain corridor on the shore was crowded with people. To visit Qian Jie, you must cross the Wu Peng Promenade and the Stone Bridge. There are seven bridges on the river. These seven bridges are connected with Qiaojie, and each bridge leads to Guanqian Street, the old street.

When you get off the bridge, it is the old street. The old street at the door surprised me a little. We have almost nowhere to stand, so we can only stand by the side of the road and decide where to go when there are fewer people. For a moment, I thought Wuzhen Old Street was "dead". The doors and windows of the people on both sides are closed, and the people moving in the narrow streets are moving slowly, which is more like paying tribute to the last family that exists in the world. Here, there is no slow pace, full of leisure of life. It is even more impossible to be Wenhe Wuzhen, running silently and willfully.