Less for the poor children, very much love prosperity, good house, good beauty, good child, good fresh clothes, good food, good horses, good lanterns, good fireworks, good pear orchards, good trumpets, good antiques, good flowers and birds, and tea and orange abuse, bookworm poetry,
Half a lifetime of hard work, all dreams.
In the fifties, the country was destroyed and the family died, and the mountain dwellings were hidden, and the survivors, the broken beds were broken, the sick pianos were broken, and the number of broken books was missing. Cloth is loose, often to the point of breaking the cooking.
Looking back twenty years ago, it was like a lifetime away.
Please find out the family heirloom of the musty green copper incense burner, light a pot of agarwood crumbs, and listen to me tell the story of a pre-war Hong Kong. When you're done with this crumb, my story should be over.
Please find the beginning of Zhang Dai's "Self-made Epitaph", and then pick up the beginning of "The First Incense", add a layer of filter to the story, and make up a shot of sunset pass:
Zheng Wei's former ruins have old women. Seventy years old, white teeth fall, sojourn in the pass lane. I like to talk about the past tirelessly, and I also come and go to the home of the secretary of state. There are Yan Xiaoke who ask about it, the old man, the ethereal state, the rich rhyme, if not the squirrel and the holder of the staff, then when the year was not in the sky, it was not a good person. Hate the rest of his life late, do not know the practice of mi, but still see the abundance of mi is also today. Please try to say it, so-and-so is willing to listen.
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The words of the micro-son will also be told.
Please note that:
Use "find the family heirloom of the moldy green copper incense burner, light a furnace of agarwood crumbs" as the beginning of the novel;
and "Ge Weilong, a very ordinary Shanghai girl, standing in the corridor of a large house in the middle of the mountain" as the beginning of the novel;
Streets apart.
The incense burned, the smoke was swirling, and the sound was like a distant place, like a whisper in the middle of the night, a sigh in the darkness. The prosperity is over, and I am haggard. The past is a mixed bag. It was like half dreaming and half waking through the gap between the curtains, seeing the twilight rising, for a while it was like a world away, not knowing where I was.
In my life, it is all emptiness, all wind catching. My story is not what happens in front of me, but what is behind me. It is not love, not depravity, not repentance, it is the jokes of the past, and now the dynasty is coming to the present; it is this feeling that can be turned into a remembrance, but it is already confused at that time; it is ambiguous, it is ambiguous, it is lost.
In a trance, time burned to ashes, a golden paint tray was pulled out of thin air in the strange chaotic mountains, and the car drove into a dark and dull street.
Please light a pot of incense and listen to this story. You look at the bright lights, and there are faces in the darkness. It's like man day and night, but it doesn't matter right or wrong.
It also has nothing to do with love.
"I love you, what's the matter with you?" It's not warm.
When Ge Weilong said this, there were no flowers in the grass on the side of the road, no birds in the distant woods, and no red line under the moonlight.
It was the cold sky and the sea, the docks, the sailors; the light blue nose of the woman standing on the street, the green cheeks, and the large patches of rouge on the cheeks, which turned purple. It's like a ghost.
It's Georgie Joe who says, "In any case, the distribution of our rights and duties now is so unfair." Response. The fairness of rights and duties has nothing to do with love.
I love rabbit meat, it has nothing to do with rabbits. You are my prey.
We are just tools to achieve each other's goals. I am the low-grade version of Mrs. Liang, the new generation of Xiao Cixi.
Initially, of course, it was because of his attraction, but later, it was entirely for the sake of his not loving her. Perhaps, based on her past experience, Georgie has already discovered that this secret can conquer the incomprehensible woman's heart. He said many gentle words to her, but he never uttered a word saying that he loved her.
This Georgie Joe was really the magic star in her life palace, and he made fun of her several times. She used her eyes to lure him in, the bait was swallowed for him, and he was still free and uninhibited. Finally, she made up her mind, confessed to the loss, and ignored him.
The mentality of Ge Weilong and Mrs. Liang is in the same vein. Love is the veil that covers, the joy - the lyrics of the field master.
This story has nothing to do with sacrificing for love.
What do those drunken loaches think of you? Wei Long said, "Originally, what is the difference between me and them?" Georgie held the roulette wheel with one hand, covered her mouth with the other, and said, "You talk nonsense again—" Wei Long smiled and said, "Okay! I admit I said the wrong thing. How is there no difference? They are a last resort, I am voluntary! ”
This is not for love. There is no difference between Wei Long and the Street Girl, both are for life. There is a difference between Wei Long and the woman standing on the street, one is not allowed, and the other is voluntary. Whether it is forced to make a living or a drunken fan, it is not related to love.
You are a person with a tender face, a soft heart, a big temper, and no decision, and you have real feelings when you come, and you are not a first-class talent at all. Wei Long took a slight breath and said, "You let me learn slowly!" Mrs. Liang smiled and said, "You have more places to learn!" Try it. Wei Long really practiced seriously, because she was bent on learning, and Mrs. Liang was by her side at any time to help, and she actually achieved remarkable results.
Moreover, not moving true feelings is the premise of a first-class social flower.
And Ge Weilong's entanglement on the road to returning to his hometown "new life":
One day he would need her, when she had lived too long in the narrow confines of another family; and in order to adapt to the circumstances, her newborn muscles were so deeply embedded in the fence of life that she could not pull out. At that time, he asked her to come back again, too late.
It's more of a kind of self-deception, and deception. I was obsessed with him as a person, not with his Ferrari. Sacrifice is a reverse process, and there is no sacrifice of following the heart to seek benefits and avoid harms.
What kind of state is Wei Long's heart?
On The way home, There is a memory of his hometown, which is one of the few descriptions of fireworks in the novel:
In her house, the black iron bed on which she and her sister slept, the mattress on the bed, white floor, red wicker; the old dresser of boxwood; the peach-style porcelain jar that was red in the sun, filled with talk; the beauty moon card nailed to the wall, on the arm of the beautiful woman, the mother added the numbers of the tailor, the head line, the tofu paste, the aunt and the third aunt with a pencil...
This moment reminded her of all the thick, reliable things in her life. But in an instant, without any pretense, he suddenly became suspicious and fell into self-persuasion.
--- turquoise glazed tiles, green glass windows, narrow red rim frames, sesame yellow paint, red bricks on the ground, a row of white stone columns two or three feet high, emerald snuff bottles, ivory Guanyin statues, bamboo small screen stone green lacquer cloth, big red Ayako curtains. ---- overwhelming luxury is so fascinating, that dirty, complex, incomprehensible reality that people can't touch.
Like a hot soldering iron, like the peanut coat that flutters at the corner of the mouth when the eye is driven away. The description of this "peanut rice" is really a stroke of God, and the genius is wielded at will, which is unattainable by ordinary people for life. Just like a bucket of "Master Kang" instant noodles that appeared in the villa, Ge Weilong was hammered up from "a majestic white house, covered with green glazed tiles, very much like an ancient imperial tomb". However, when she woke up, she closed her eyes again, closed the curtains, and mixed in the closet for two or three months. It is better to die in daguanyuan than live in the grocery store.
The misfortune of the woman lies in being surrounded by almost irresistible temptations; she is not asked to work hard, but is only encouraged to slide down to reach bliss. By the time she found herself being fooled by a mirage, it was too late, and her strength had been exhausted in a failed adventure.
The eyes are like Qingwen (some scenes play a role in jiaoda), the eyes are like attacking people, the aunt is like Wang Xifeng, and Zhou Jijie is like a monk. With the help of Zhou Jijie's mouth, you can see the men and women in the book, in addition to hedonism, other things:
Yes! I myself am a bastard, and I suffered from this. You see, our possible objects are all bastard boys. Chinese no, because our foreign-style education cannot be mixed with pure Chinese. Foreigners can't either! Which of the Caucasians here is not very racially minded? This made him himself willing, and their society did not agree. Whoever marries an oriental, the career of this life is over. Who is such a romantic fool this year?
Not in the West, not in the west, not in the soil, not in the ocean, not in the donkey and not in the horse, just like the decoration of the aunt's home with mixed West. All kinds of irreconcilable local backgrounds and the atmosphere of the times are hard to knead together, creating a fantasy realm. In the illusion, there is a group of aliens. Like the apocalyptic carnival, there are only cocktail parties and men. Drunk and dreaming, who cares what will happen tomorrow.
Even if the crackling of fireworks will disappear, the traffic lights on the streets will be dimmed, even if people will cry in the cars driving into the dark streets. The crying person may remember the scene when she first came to the "wasteland to set off a royal palace", she wore the chic uniform of Nanying Middle School, a green bamboo cloth shirt, long knees, she came to complete her studies.
On the other side of the mountain, it is actually a mountain. If you choose another path, is there no crying? Who knows? Zhang's novels are difficult to summarize with the theme of the story, the past clouds, memory fragments, broken photo albums page by page, those black, white, good, bad, vague, clear, unforgettable forgettable, like the incense chips at the bottom of the stove, blown away by the wind. The years have turned to ashes, and I am old. Looking back at yourself, it will eventually become a dream. I'm old and not afraid of being ridiculed. Play a song, say goodbye to your son, and return alone. Is it Jephreyah? For the aftertaste of the king.
The last paragraph is a film review:
Just like the two lines of clear tears in "Color Ring" where Mr. Yi sits at the head of the bed. It can only be tasted, not sat down. Whether it is lighting, styling, or lines, once the shooting is too real, it seems clumsy.
The atmosphere of "The First Incense" is not easy to capture and adapt, it is a spectacle created by genius inspiration, not an ordinary story in the world.
