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The temper of Xue Feng Mountain

by SondJam 3 months ago in Excerpt
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He walked out of Xupu high-speed railway station, he looked up to the Chu sky, to watch the clouds, whether there is a white-clad tall man standing on the banks of the Xushui, that must be his long-cherished Qu Yuan, but unfortunately the sky is cloudy, black clouds locking green mountains, like rain, white Qu Zi is missing, but there are a few egrets quill in the rice fields, Qu Zi does not wade river Ruoxi, where to go white shadow fairy trail. A group of literary figures squeezed into a small bus that picked up the station and drove to Xue Feng Shan Thousand Village Yao Village.

That afternoon, he sat in the back seat of the bus, the car is stuffed full, there is a sense of suffocation, exhaustion, has been sitting for four and a half hours of high-speed rail ride, people are a little tired, only hope to arrive at the place to stay sooner. The car walked along the riverside, walking, cold rain flying in the sky, he was too familiar with the rainy season in Hunan. Look at that icy rain, listen to that cold rain, feel a little icy rain like Lian. Listening to it, he could distinguish the weight of cold rain, spring rain and autumn rain in Xuefeng Mountain.

I have left Xiangxi for a long time. Counting on his fingers, it has been thirty-eight years. The man will be old, but hesitant to write a paragraph for the place where he was a soldier at the age of sixteen, let alone a masterpiece, not because of talent, but life is like a vat of old wine, pre-buried time is not long enough, not brewed into jelly.

In the late spring of Xinchu, I went back to the south of the colorful clouds, and my old home was in the east of Kunming's city wall, Dabanqiao Stage. Wandering in the spring rain, the ancient stage morning rain moistened the stone road. Looking around the world, called the Panchiao people dazzling, but his memory of the map of China, the hometown, there is a place name, the ancient name of Yingzhou, in fact, is the night of the rooster post store, traces of the Panchiao frost, the extension of the bridge ark ferry, a bridge to people, a boat to carry all beings, the ultimate place is the other side, ferry themselves, ferry people, ferry all beings, the canonical scriptures are in the Baoxiangan and the ancient Tang temple Longquan Temple, only the heart knows, he knows, I know. From a distance, I can see the flowers blooming on the other side of the river. However, the summer heat wave rolls in northern China, only Yunnan weather this side of the good cool, hibernate here, dive into writing Tibet double concentration of retirement, raising young long "Tibetan mother". The love has been held by the Hatha, the Macropolis is not far, Tibetan love mother charity voyage and come, again and again dream back to the Naqu River, the Lion Spring River, the sacred lake clear waves, the reflection of the sacred mountains, but rarely dream back to his sixteen-year-old soldier Yuan and Drainage River.

Chu Shan did not come into the dream, but he persistently look out over the snowy region. That day, Yu Ning brother sent a WeChat, inviting him to participate in the famous writer Xuefeng Mountain red line, he gladly accepted. Snowy and snowy mountains, separated by 108,000 miles, but the man went to the snowy mountains for dozens of years, it is time to go back to the sixteen-year-old soldier to see the place, that is captive to his teenage soul mountain wilderness. Think back to the year, all the heroic complex and literary dreams, all in that snowy mountain breeding. But the young man returned to his hometown sideburns like snow, should be for themselves, but also for that Chu although three households, to resist the Japanese invasion of Xue Feng mountain, write a majestic article, sacrifice youthful fame will not return.

However, from Kunming Changshui Airport, there is no flight to Huaihua, unless you fly Changsha, and then take the high-speed train back to Xupu, the system for a convenient trip, but a look at the strategy, or take the high-speed train is the most convenient, four hours and fifteen minutes to the destination. When he was a soldier in that big mangrove forest, he had to travel back and forth many times.

Departure time is scheduled after the "May Day" holiday, Kunming city Guo even rained for ten days, the night rain still look Chu mountain, Chu mountain is not far, waiting for a wanderer to return.

Two

The car arrived at the foot of Xupu Yaozhai, the mountain road curves, need to change the car up. At that time, an old comrade working here drove a Honda mini car and asked him to get into the car with the poetry editor of October magazine and a woman from the Southern Newspaper Group, he stepped in and sat in the back row, the car was very narrow and behind the driver, he could not stretch his feet at all, so he had no choice but to sit curled up with his chest against his knees. The car in the rain, the mountains, circling upward, around one beam after another, will be a spiral-like mountain range around, mountains, mountains, mountains, water, fog, finally reached the top. The lady in the passenger seat got out first, followed by the editor of October magazine, and finally it was his turn. One foot was stretched out from the narrow place in the back, and the other foot was actually hooked by the seat belt of the Honda, and his body was tilted forward, a horse lost its hoof, prostrated forward, and fell out more than three meters, actually landing on his knee, which was so painful that he thought it was broken. A young man saw this, rushed up, helped him up, full of ice and rain, face, body, all.

Is this Xiang Yu?! He had a nameless fire bubbling up in his heart, floating Ran rain curtain, the rain is really heavy, does it mean that this is the snow peak mountain to give him a downfall.

Looking around, there is a strange bird flying across the sky, is it a white heron, or a sand gull, he does not know.

Chirping doves tune, it should be the spring calling birds.

Looking for the ferry, the cuckoo sounded, the big board ark carrying the youth sailed to where? No boat, no ride, but there is a divine dragon across the Kyushu, waiting for him. Early that morning, my brother drove him to the Chinggong high-speed railway station, out of the door is the icy rain such as Lian. Smoke and rain Yangmeishan, turn into the highway, usually an hour's drive, only half an hour to get there, board the car, north, towards the south of the big mangrove forest, listen to the mountain rain, sitting in the car, fake sleep. Last night, he lost sleep again, early in the morning to sleep, but was woken up by the alarm clock, can not delay the 10:00 train ah, not to mention the night rain after the end of the morning is most likely to traffic, so he woke up early, will pack the bag, will wait for the little brother to send the station, boarding the car to put down the heart, the car sped, towards the back of the Baoxiang River, a leap of the mountains, lost, he thought of forty-seven years ago, the autumn frost board bridge in the early morning, he The first breakfast in Shuicheng was bush rice, just a little more rice, and he ate it especially well.

In those hungry days, when he signed up to be a soldier, his mother said something that he would never forget, "Go on, eat a full meal in the army! It was a mother's inescapable response to a barren year. But he jumped with a teenage ambition, went in a boring car, visited his family for the first time, had to return to his hometown in a sleeper car, that meant he had to be promoted to become a platoon leader.

The train stopped in Guilin in the drizzle of smoke and rain, and the leader of the receiving squad shouted a password, backpack, get off! He was a bit stunned. Didn't he say he was going to the South China Sea? How to get off from Guilin, this is far from the sea ah. Unexpectedly, the azure sea did not enter, but he entered a sea of forest, is the year after the Red Army crossed the Xiangjiang River, the channel to turn soldiers far away from the mountains reckless.

In the morning rain, a group of recruits climbed into a soldier car, sitting in a large carriage, heading to Longsheng, he approached the remainder of the Xuefeng Mountains for the first time. The line of soldier wagons, meandering in the smoke and rain, crossed the mangled mountains. One moment from the big longitudinal valley circling up, around a spiral bun-like mountain top, turn to the top of the mountain, and a moment from the clouds, winding down, into the valley floor. The sea of clouds, rain and mist, wooden buildings, cloudy mountains, the river, Dong, Yao and Miao families one after another. At this point he realized that going to the sea is just a dream, the mountain wave wind to come, such as drums, such as Tao, wind into the ear, in fact, from the big forest blowing over, the mountain wind blowing old age.

The day will be twilight, soldier car drove into a hammock covered villages, still smoky, cattle hair fine rain, such as silver needles, like spiders weaving webs, blocking the view, the sky is really small, is the sky of the back carriage of the carport phase mask. 9 o'clock in the evening, finally got off in a river valley, flowing water, cold streams who fiddle, distant villages with dim lights dotted, dogs barking long. Along a muddy path, all the way up, finally in front of a row of thatched houses, found his youthful resting place, the camp of the recruiting company. Put down the backpack, then to the mess hall to eat, actually a cedar bark covered up the dining hall, perhaps hungry, that a meal of white rice, pumpkin soup, fried peppers with hollowed vegetables, let him eat a very good ah.

After dinner, back to the hut, it was already more than 10 o'clock at night, sleeping in a large bunk. The good thing is that the training squad leader of the new class is a veteran of Yunnan Lunan County, speaking Mandarin, Yi Yi thick horse street tune, the old country see old country, two eyes tearful, no tears, only the curiosity and throbbing of youth, the hometown is far away, but also close. The big bunk was very crowded, recruits one by one, outside the house freezing rain and ice, the house coal smoke curling, the stove burned red, that night sleep very deep, iron clothes and ice rain into the dream, dripping to the dawn.

At dawn, the shrill wake-up call, woke them up, this is his first morning as a soldier, the rallying cry of fate blew. Assemble, go out for morning exercises, climb down the hill along the road for three kilometers, then return to a modest playground, step and march in unison. But it was in a mud and rain drill. The dawn is dawning, the east is white, a big daylight, but the sun is hidden by the snow, no matter how loud the shout of one, two, one, the morning sun never called out of the cloud gap.

Rooster crowing, rooster a long roar, he followed the sound and went, only to see the far village, dark house, in the shape of a hammock, in front of a small river, and then in front of a piece of harvested winter rice paddies, leaning back on the mountains, cedar bark pavement roof ridge, the mist curling, a long time away from the village of imagery. Drill class break, he stood under an old orange tree, looking around the Cang Mountain, the scenery here is excellent feng shui, so that he was a little relaxed, the morning fog floating Ran, a moment of cloud cover, a moment of rain cover, the countryside wild old man, straw hat lonely boat, so that people do not know the age of this morning, the clock hand of civilization in this moment stopped. Mang Mountain, faraway village, the camp of the hut, the underground Great Wall project of hidden lightning, so that he infinite longing, secretly determined, how also have to mention an officer back, not negative green mountains not negative Qing, more not negative this teenage flower season, the heart of the sacred mountain to reveal the rain and fog, occasionally reveal the lofty, but the sun of the rainy days in western Hunan, but more than two months did not come out, no matter how resounding the drill troops. Locked in, fog, rain curtain lock heavy mountain, ice rain, frozen rain such as Lian, he gradually read the character of the first acquaintance of the snow peak mountain, half mountain cold rain half mountain fog, six months of rain and fog, fog and rain to see the snow peak, I do not know which is true, which is false. Ice cones hanging down from the grass hut, ice condensation Chu Mountain, a piece of ice heart in the lock, in Shuangjiang, in Xushui, in Yuanjiang, in Qu Zi wading river, Wang Changling chanting a piece of ice heart in the jade pot of Hibiscus upstairs.

A teenager from the army, to that mangled forest covered missile base, did not know that this is also a kind of mountain edge, literary edge, strange edge, because at the age of sixteen he passed all the green mountains, cross-boat Shuangjiang, Yuanjiang, Xushui, several degrees of sunset red, from the base to Beijing authorities, and later became a writer, in the dark, is a kind of literary fate of heaven, all the experience, for a writer, will not be excess.

Because of reading through that landscape, at the age of eighteen, he encountered Shen Congwen in the library of Hunan Daily, it was a moment when the fog was over, the rain was off, and the sun would come out. He was surprised to learn that a Miao boy who had the same dream as him of being a company clerk had become a world-class writer, and that his half-white, half-written pen of the landscape was so familiar and close to him, and that the tracks of his youth had been measured and touched by every river street. That year, he was eighteen years old, and at this moment in China, what time is it tonight?

Three

After both knees were bruised and sprayed with white medicine spray, there were a few stings, but he squatted up and down a few times and his knees didn't hurt. Fortunately, the meniscus did not shatter, all the good body of the soldier? Also yes, also no. Later, he thought carefully, thanks to the rain in Kunming, it was cold, when he went out, he wore a pair of outdoor pants, a little thick, a fall, the role of protection, save his knees.

In the evening, the sudden rain began to rest, high friends gathered in the mountain pass restaurant, sitting watching the clouds rise when the Xue Feng Mountain mist, white clouds floating around. Floor-to-ceiling windows all the West Ridge painting, rain and fog around the pen, a kind of beauty, scroll-like into the eyes, people in the mountains, the scene into the heart. It's just that the season is nearing the end of spring, and the flowers are dying in Xue Feng Mountain. Half of the fog drowning, half of the rain to come, the sky will fall, sitting watching the clouds evening, pushing a glass of wine, people into a slightly drunken realm, the night falls, will be a majestic landscape scroll indecipherable into ink.

That night, he went to bed early, listening to the cold rain on Mount Xuefeng, gradually into dreamland. The wind of the river remained the same, Qu Zi did not come into the dream, and Wang Changling, the sage of the Seven Wonders, did not come into the dream.

Night lying in the icy river, the mountain ghosts of the snowy peaks of the heroic spirits in the walk alone. A night bird called strangely in the forest outside the window, the teal bird jumped between the cedar woods, phosphorus fires dotted, cuckoo birds singing spring, will be those long-sleeping on the snowy peaks of the majestic souls woke up. The last battle of the war against Japan was fought on the top of this snowy mountain, with three Japanese divisions, from Changde, Hengyang and Changsha, pouncing on Shaoyang in three directions. Hundreds of thousands of Chinese troops, equipped in layers, fought a final showdown with the Japanese invaders. The officers and soldiers deployed at the forefront were determined to die for their country and fight the enemy to the death. If the Japanese invasion of the position, the loss of my Xue Feng Mountain, the accompanying capital without color, the fall of the rear, the hump route Zhijiang Airport was occupied, Guiyang, Kunming is in danger, Chongqing is also difficult to protect. Xue Feng, the last battle, not only about the fate of the Chinese nation, but also about the fate of the Japanese in that Fushan Island, although the Japanese invasion to Xue Feng Mountain, like locusts to the top of the mountain, but the Chinese men and women to fight to a soldier, even the sacrifice of the entire company and battalion, in exchange for Xue Feng Mountain stands firm, the military flag does not fall, to withstand the rounds of attacks, the Japanese invasion forces in the capture of local positions, casualties are too heavy to retreat without a fight. Xue Feng mountain majestic pass is difficult to cross, became the last fate of the Japanese invasion army and nightmare.

He joined the army in Xiangjiang for several years, from a company health clerk to the regiment's reporters, at the age of nineteen, was promoted to the regiment's political office secretary, the rank of second lieutenant platoon leader position, and later transferred to the base organs as an officer. One year, he went to a position in the hinterland of the great mangrove forest to cover, and for the first time, he appreciated the majesty of Xue Feng Mountain. The Xue Feng Mountain, which is located in the western part of Hunan, stretches for thousands of miles and carries mountains and rivers. In the sunset, the smoke of the mountains was rising, and the mountains were like blood. He stood in a highland, the wind into the pine, the sea of forest stirring, as if thousands of troops woke up in the sound of military trumpets, the sound of horses' hooves broken, the sound of military trumpets swallowed, long whistling in the forest and the sea. He looked at the green hills, the rest of the snowy peaks, the battle of Changde seems to be in front of his eyes, Hengyang defense battle is still in full swing. This hot land, bloodshed and sorrowful songs, only the 800 Huben strong mountains and rivers, the Division Commander Yu Chengwan, in the Yuan River in the city of Changde fought the blood of Chinese men, but in 1949 in his hometown of Kunming, east of Dabanqiao, a central army was Lu Han security regiment of the rabble blocked in the chicken street sub-hill, a small mountain difficult to cross. Jiangshan both down, defeated like a mountain, Jinling residual dream, the people's hearts back, 800 Huben is actually lost to themselves, lost to corruption, so that the blood of the year Xuefeng Mountain eclipsed the glory of fading.

However, the iron horse autumn wind snow mountain, the sound of rain, the sound of the river, the sound of the waves, the sound of guns, roar fall, those wisps of white bones at the top of the snowy peaks, into the mountain phosphorus fire, jumping, stars, dots, into a heavenly waterfall, a giant river of time, in his dream turbulence, Chu although three households can die Qin, not dead is the blood, is the heart of the brave to die that moment, he really read the snowy peaks of the foothills, this is a mountain of blood, the mountain of ice and snow The mountain of blood, the mountain of ice and snow, the mountain of masculinity.

So the wings of his youth, swept through this pale and vast, all turned into a monument to the memory of youth. In the small county where he lived, witnessed too many sacrifices, in order to prevent foreign invaders in this land to find the opportunity to merit, his comrades with flesh and blood hollowed out a mountain, built a missile position. I have a long sword can cut off the clouds, thunder in the hands. There is struggle, there is sacrifice, the construction of the Great Wall underground, a large collapse, a mudslide, surprisingly, the eighteen-year-old life of the body, covered at once, the most once, a class of soldiers, seven wounded and eight dead. But the funeral is in the midnight, a coffin into the cave, silently born, silently go, gently, not to alarm the residents of the small town. He wondered why they were not allowed to blow suona, firecrackers, in broad daylight, and send them on their way with a bang? For this reason, he went to the old chief to reason, but was scolded. The old captain asked him why he became a soldier. He said to protect the country. Then what are we doing in this small town? To build a nest for missiles and to forge the sword of a great nation. Good point, but we die every now and then, not to spoil the peace of the small town ah.

At that time, he really read the lightness of the life of Taishigong in the lightness of the feather and the weight of the tarzan sigh. Born in the ordinary, what enough to sigh, returned to the silence, what enough pity. But the heart is still indignant, resentful not in the silence of death, on the long night of rebirth, he wanted to write, he wanted to write, at that moment, he decided to write a book, for himself, for the sixteen-year-old soldier years, but also for the life of the snowy mountain, the moment of the collapse of the mountain, his youthful dreams in the transformation into the soul of the mountain, flying out an immortal bird. At the age of thirty-six, his debut full-length novel "The Long Sword of the Great Nation", a sword three awards, won the first Lu Xun Literature Award, the Chinese People's Liberation Army Literary Award and the Ministry of Propaganda Five One Project Award, he held a new work "A Bird's Eye View of the Earth", the book of the blood sacrifice missile engineers, back to that small county, the martyrs' cemetery, looking up at a peak alone, is the soul of his comrades clanking iron bones like the upright. So, he lit a candle, his book, chapter after chapter, page after page, burned to his comrades. At that time, the wind rose, the dome grew dark, the mountains were about to rain, black clouds fell like a rebellion, a rainstorm drenched him and his comrades. Paper boats bright wax shining sky burn, at that moment, he knew, he was a soldier of this Xue Feng mountain foothills, in fact, is a divine mountain, masculine mountain, with extraordinary Chu people character of the mountain.

Four

As dawn was about to break, he was awakened by the partridge birds in the forest behind him.

The partridge, the buko, a bird calling for spring, was calling for his long-gone youth. He got up, hurriedly washed up and went downstairs. Then, along a wooden ladder, picking up the steps, to watch the sunrise on Mount Xue Feng, walking a little too fast, panting, the mountains turn around, suddenly appear a scene. There was a splendid view of the rain and the morning sunrise ahead. At the top, standing on a glass platform, many of my writer friends were waiting for the sunrise, sweeping away the gloom of his half month of continuous rain in Kunming Chengguo.

The sky cracked the big cloud gap, the morning sun first dawn, from the eastern canopy sieve down, pale and turbulent, reckless wilderness, climbing high and looking into the distance, finally let him feel a kind of shock, Chu mountain majestic, not the least bit lose Daiyue half, snowy peaks lofty, also not lose Kunlun a millimeter, after all, this is a cultural mountain ah. The clouds open sunrise, he seems to see the clouds traveling to the snowy peak mountain Chu State great Qu Yuan, white robe, official bun high crown, stepping on the clouds, sleeves and bo belt, the gods of the free, floating down, Qu Zi wade through the snowy peak mountain the first river should be Yuan River, right, is the upper reaches of the Yuan water Xushui. The Xu water is like a practice, green and blue, a piece of ice heart to the Chu Mountains, to Ying City ah. But the old country can not see Ruoxi, but have to cry, cry family temple, the capital is not bright moon, how can express Qu Zi to the Chu country and the king's thoughts? The question mark above the sky is straightened, the road is long, I will go up and down and seek; ask the ground, the snowy mountain full of orange flowers, in vain, in the sacrifice of the people of Ying's death. The country's grief, advice, no one will, only "Ode to the Orange" in the earth.

The ghosts of the mountains are far away, and the article on the death of the country has become an endless song, the death of the state of Chu, the six countries are not intact, all united in the great Qin. He saw in the clouds the Qianzhong County next to the Yuan River, which is the establishment of the Qin Dynasty, a system of a thousand years, so that the Chinese civilization has been passed on from generation to generation, as the Xushui water down, into the Yuan River, into the Qiancheng, the Furong building.

A boat is approaching, coming from the clouds, coming from the Yuan River. He saw the man who looked at the river with his sword, the dragon standard lieutenant, a small official. Wang Changling, the seven great sages, is also the world's fallen people, chanting where the long clouds of the Qinghai Sea, drifting to the Yellow River on the old road. A farewell to the Bayan Khara, Dajiche grassland, reverse drip river, time flowed back to Chang'an, the court bitter advice, who listened, relegated to Qianzhong County, a thin horse dusk, dead trees and crows, to the south, there is a cuckoo call, the stage road meanders. Change into a flat boat, against the Yuan River, out of Dongting, to Changde, to Yuanling, and then down to the main peak of Xue Feng Mountain Hongjiang, to the boat ashore, into the post house, at this time, the fragrance of plum as before, a night to see all the flowers in Chang'an, he wanted to Luoyang family and friends. In front of him is the ice condensation Chu Mountain, all mountains are white, so cold ah, wet cold. He missed his family and friends in Luoyang, so he sang a piece of poem "Luoyang family and friends are asking each other, a piece of ice heart in the jade pot".

The heart of literature is the first heart, and the first heart is the heart of ice. The next day, I got up and went out from the windy night, boarded a boat and clouds, went to Qiancheng, where he was a Longbiao lieutenant.

The clouds scattered, a big sky light, the sun Ran, shining touching the dragon ridge of Xue Feng Mountain. The afternoon trip is into the Xupu County, to visit the new China to establish a blood of a thousand years of a woman warrior to police to, her voice, her lowercase essay, he had already read, but he still want to see what kind of family she actually came from, with such a good education, but to get off the boat, and the system completely broken. When I entered the county, under a big banyan tree, I walked into the house of Xiang Xiangyu, I saw a woman from a wealthy family, desperate for that society and the world, so I embarked on the road of rebellion, a road to explore the freedom and liberation of the nation.

That day out of the Xiang family compound, walking past the big banyan tree, he walked to the Xushui waterfront, clear waves, the vast soup, a literati seem to pass before his eyes, he suddenly felt that the character of the Xue Feng Mountain is elegant, gentle, is a cultural mountain, the mountain of the spirit.

Five

I went to see Huayao, and stayed in the Sky Realm for a trip to Longhuai County to see a large singing and dancing performance of Huayao's wedding and to eat a wonderful banquet.

That morning, get up close and personal with the actors, both as an audience and as an actor. After the bride is married and enters the bridal chamber, a wedding banquet begins. When the guests were seated, a group of dancing Huayao women, surprisingly, came with large bowls and wine jugs. Six Huayao women, one by one, terraced the large bowls in their hands, from low to high, with the lowest bowl opening to the guests' mouths, and the uppermost wine jugs began to pour wine ...... high mountains and flowing water to fill the yellow soup, and wine to intoxicate their relatives, becoming Huayao women to guests from far to This is another kind of friendship that the women of Huayao have for their guests from afar.

The high mountains and flowing water of Huayao women, the high mountains and flowing water of Xuefeng Mountain, the mountains are clear and clear, the water is blue and blue, and Xiang female Xiao Xiao meets her soulmate. At that moment, the character of Xuefeng Mountain was decoded by him, from the wetness of misty rain, to the mangled turbulence of the hero without words, to the high chanting of Chu, the inexhaustible culture of the seven extremes, and finally all into a smoky and misty amorous and affectionate, the character of Xuefeng Mountain, surprisingly so complex.

This is his forty-four years of interpretation, decryption, a lifetime of reading only one mountain ah.

Excerpt

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SondJam

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