Appreciation of the Beauty Text 丨 YeDu (Excerpt) Author: Ke Ling Recitation: Wang Hui

Text/Curling

Most of the people who shake the ferry seem to be old people, and the white beard and white hair come and go in the water, which looks extremely dashing, reminding people of the egrets in the Autumn River. Did they start from a young age, or were they old heroes, traveling all over the rivers and lakes, breaking through the nets of fate, and finally being defeated by time, regardless of the rain and snow, all year round this river for the world to cross the river? At one point I looked at the life of an old man on a ferry, and he seemed to be a man of great indifference.

The old man had a home, a wife younger than him, a son and daughter-in-law, and the whole family lived in the small temple of Dutou. Although life is not simple, the twilight does not seem to be desolate; in addition to the wrinkles carved by the years, his face is always hung with a frost-like chill. He was usually rarely on the boat, always until someone called for a ferry, usually rarely spoke, sometimes came to a village teenager, impatient temperament, the voice was high and urgent, and when he got off the boat, he had to listen to the old man's murmured scolding.

The living needs of the elderly seem to be supplied by the ancestral hall of the large clan in the village, so the villagers do not have to spend money as usual. Some of them had to go back and forth from the ferry every day, and at the end of the year, they rewarded him with some rice and wheat cakes. The guest helped the foot vendor, but he never owed the humble courtesy of the person who went out, and when he arrived at the shore, he smiled and thanked him, and he also took out one or two coppers, enameled, threw them into the belly of the boat, and then picked up the burden and walked with a drum. The old man did not answer, and seeing that there was no one transitioning here, he shook the boat back lonely.

Every morning is the most lively time in Dutou, the sun has just risen, illuminating the emerald cliffs and the far banks, the river is scattered with mist, the villagers who rushed to the city have come one after another, and the people have become a queue, so that the old people will carry them back and forth to the other side; the sun will return to the village from the city, and the old man will have to be busy picking them up again.

In the afternoon, the old man would mostly hide in the small temple, or sit in front of the temple and silently smoke his dry smoke, and the philosopher looked at the distant sky and the flowing water of the money for a long time.

It was late, and in the shadow of the sunset, three or five more figures moved in, lonely and empty, shouting: "Ferry! ”

The idlers, who had probably returned from wandering around the city, arrived on the boat and talked about the news they had heard in the small teahouse, with comments on the long and short, and when they talked about their pride, crisp laughter flew up from the water. But the old man was always silent, wagging his ferry, as if unwilling to listen to these vulgar things.

The general situation of Watanabe always makes me very moved. Sit idly at the road pavilion for a moment, wander around the shore for a while, look at the simple personnel, and feel that there is no shortage of places worth chewing. The old man's silence made me like it, but his indifference caused me to think. Do you think that going to the river on both sides of the river is too restrictive, so that the solemn work of attracting the world to the world also feels too humiliating to him?

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