——Excerpt from the essay collection "The Cold Moon Shines on the Canal Water" with changes
"Fumiko!"
Two times in succession, I didn't feel that these two words had anything to do with me. When the third sound hit the back of the head, there was a sudden shock: This is calling me.
When I turned around, I saw a face, wrinkled like a wave of the breeze, wave after wave, also with a smile. Recognized it as a "girl" at a glance. Childhood playmates, parents don't even bother to afford a name, just call the girl, the following sisters are naturally ranked: Erya, Sanya......
After a burst of greetings, the girl left like a whirlwind, but the goodbye waving in her ears lingered for a long time: "Wenzi, go home more when you have time!" Don't forget to go to my house to play! ”
Her back disappeared from the end of sight. I looked fixedly, and there seemed to be rows of earthen thatched huts, with gray thatch on the roofs dragging all the way to the eaves. On a rainy day, the raindrops that tick down the thatch fall in the palm of your hand. The screams of joy and the mother's reproach fell along with the raindrops, smashing the ground into small whirlpools. I flicked my wet sleeves and ran from east to west. The girl's house is next door, and we both have good voices, and when we bark, we will drive the chickens and dogs in a village to jump.
Now, as soon as I open my mouth, it is like a broken gong is striking, and her voice is still as clear as it was back then. The word "Wenzi" rolled out of the tip of her tongue, out of the water like lotus leaves, and fell to the ground, and the smell of dirt reached my ears, pulling me back to the old time in an instant.
"Wenzi" is a name that I have abandoned for nearly 30 years. When I heard it, I was amazed. All the while, I have been replaced by another symbol, so that I have forgotten these two words, and the land that nourishes them.
When I was born, my father named me "Jinwen" and my breast name "Wenzi". For as long as I can remember, the name was stuck in my heart like a poisonous weed. Other people's names are "flowers, red, plum, cui", how nice they sound, but my name does not have the fragrance of flowers and the softness of grass. After going to school, he was even teased by his classmates. At that time, there was a text called "Little Bee", and the naughty boy changed the content to "Little mosquito, buzzing, fly to the west, fly to the east...... and deliberately sang it in front of me. So, I got the nickname "Mosquito". Throughout elementary school, the aversion to names burned like a fire.
When I entered junior high school, I played with a handful of snot and tears, begging the teacher to change my name. The teacher shook his head helplessly and wrote the word "Ping" after his surname. At that moment, I was full of joy, and finally said goodbye to the "Yu Jinwen" that I hated in my heart. This scene comes to mind beautifully - in the summer, the pond in front of the door is full of drifting grasses. I sat on the wooden springboard by the pond, put my feet into the water, and teased back and forth, the water was shaking, and Ping was rippling in the water.
If you thought that duckweed had no roots and would have drifted with the tide all your life, would you still use this word as your name? At that time, I wondered if duckweed had roots, and I just felt that I could float around on the water and be free.
Everything is by no means accidental, just like why the teacher didn't name me Hua Yacao back then. I firmly believe that I am the womb of duckweed, and this half of my life has been like duckweed floating on the water, without any thoughts about life and the future. This half of my life, confused, laughed, cried, drunk, woke up. Firewood, rice, oil, salt, sweet and sour. It is the reality of life, but it is also like a vague dream. Maybe it has something to do with the trauma to my brain. All the audio-visual has been covered with a light gray, and the brush is inexhaustible. So, I looked at the world around me as if I was separated by a veil. Even to myself, even the pain in my body is much duller. As a result, the painful experiences of this half of his life have become as simple as the name change incident back then.
Friends often say that I am not old and have an old mentality. Let me correct it: people are old and their hearts are blurred. Maybe the word "fuzzy" is not appropriate to describe a state of mind, but I still like to use it. Blurred eyes, blurred hearts, blurred lines between love and hate, the edge of life and death.
Walking through the winter and summer in such a blur, on a certain day in the autumn of this life, I suddenly heard someone call me "Wenzi", and the nerves that had always been fragile and sensitive seemed to be stripped out of the numb flesh, with the smell of blood, and I was drenched naked.
Fumiko, the name is the symbol of the crazy girl who is scurrying around in the countryside. It was a girl who walked through the fields, cruising in the ponds, catching cicadas in the summer forest, and digging loaches in the winter canal. Today, the name is like the last leaf hanging on the branches of the sycamore in late autumn, which has long been dried and wilted by the wind. Half of my life has been vividly divided into two fragments by this air-dried name. One is the madness of the field, and the other is the silence of the market.
"Go home and see". The admonition of my playmates always rings in my ears, like a hammer in the dark night, knocking on the door of my heavy heart and striking my numb nerves. Unconsciously, the rural fields that gave birth to my name, the wisps of cooking smoke that yellowed my face, the cows, sheep, chickens and ducks wandering around, the white moonlight guarding the courtyard on summer nights, and the frozen river that was coldly watched in winter...... A series of symbols came into my mind. Even I couldn't imagine that my memory would suddenly become so clear at this moment, and the dusty days suddenly brightened, like fallen leaves flying in the wind, suddenly floating in front of me, tempting my footsteps away from the hustle and bustle of the city, to find a group of shots belonging to the field.
About the Author
Yili, a native of Qingjiangpu, Huai'an, Jiangsu, a member of the Provincial Writers Association, has published millions of words of prose, poetry, novels, etc., and his works include "The Cold Moon Shines on the Canal Water" and "The Daughter of Qingjiangpu". Recommended reading of previous works: Swipe up and down to read more articles 1. Prose essays
The house will hurt
Chinese New Year's Eve shattered thoughts
Qingjiangpu under the lens of the Japanese army
Show off a beautiful reunion
The soul returns
I'm waiting for you at the Jujube Festival
Where the feet go, there is home
The fan shook and shook
It was the last snow she could see
Cheng Bo Gongzhi Seal Society Yufeng Grain Bank
Grandmother incense
Fireworks deep locust tree road
The cheongsam woman, the writer who compares herself to a peasant, walks in the spring of the old village, the spring of the old village in April, the tung blossoms bloom in midsummer, go to the countryside for a walk In May, Mai Mangzha is another year of wheat harvest season, nostalgic for the branch singer, the sound of frogs, the sound of the frog is thick, the cold moon has shone on the canal, the water has not withered in winter, and the forest is idle for half a day
My dear, you slowly fly the dance of the reeds
Spring freshwater and clear lotus grow in the heart 2
Over Egypt
Tonight, how many people are sleepless on the Nile, hello you don't come, I don't open to sit into the spring light
3. Listen to it from time to time
Tonight, Youya is in Shanghai
Wu Cheng fooled how many people Gengzi At the end of the year, he happily chattered about the reality show of the two old men, and I was busy eating melons A happy residual balloon
My first lesson
Thank you for meeting 4.Life is happy for the first time, so close to you (Series 1)The first time, so close to you (Series 2)
My six · one, I call the shots
The story of Qiu Xiaoya 5
Blowing the wind of Xie Da's Pulou
A painting of amorous terroir
Today, we met Huai'an Study
【Picture description: Qingjiangpu】Tiexiaxuan Flower Pot Museum
【New Year Greeting】"Shih Tzu Ox" walked into ancient Egypt in the first year of the ox [Canal Book] The cold moon once shone on the canal water
Slightly rainy autumn, fragrant rice flowers
In July, we listen to "The Story of Sunflowers"
The "story" continues wonderfully......
Walking into March, singing about spring
The soul of poetry, the direction of walking
There's always a light above your head
2018, Mid-Autumn Festival, when I meet you, you buy books, I pay, go and plant a good seed, and harvest a spring
People have affection · Love knows no boundaries for the rest of your life for one thing
Canal rhyme
The hope of picking spring
The joy of autumn
Pick up canal text
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