still in the mirror

Cong Fei got on the train going south, and after several turns, he finally entered Hong Kong at the dusk of NO.15.

The elder sister came to pick him up. She was wearing a milky white waist dress, and she was crowded with the people at the station, which made her noble and kind. The love and affection in her eyes seemed like hope after being riddled with holes, and also like a kind of motherhood compromise.

While walking, You Ling asked Cong Fei about Beiping.Arriving next to a Buick, Cong Fei saw a blurry silhouette reflected in the rear window, his heart jumped into his throat, Dad is here?

You Ling glanced at his younger brother's expression, and said calmly: "You sit in the back with Dad, I will drive today."

The door slammed shut twice, and there were only the three of them in the car, the honey-colored leather seats giving off air-conditioning.Li Chengwu is wearing a plain black gown and mandarin jacket, and his hair is carefully cut. Is he old?It seems not.

Six years later, Cong Fei leaned against the car window, tried his best to suppress his tears, and the car drove up the asphalt road. Outside the window, a tree with purple and red flowers burned the road to the end of the sky.

Youling asked: "What's the matter? You didn't call anyone when you got in the car, but you started crying first?"

Li Chengwu smiled and said: "It must be that the young master doesn't want to see me, I came here for nothing."

You Ling sneered: "Really, Cong Fei? Who writes five letters a week?"

Li Chengwu handed over a snow-green silk handkerchief, Cong Fei looked at the silk handkerchief, then at Li Chengwu, suddenly at a loss, he simply turned his head and wiped his tears with his sleeve.

Li Chengwu moved over, pulled down Cong Fei's sleeve, wiped it for him, and said in a low voice: "Don't cry, your sister is still here, you don't feel ashamed."

With Leng Xiang in his pocket, Cong Fei was even more at a loss, he didn't know where to put his hands, tears were streaming down his face, and he cried out, "Dad...".

Li Chengwu sighed and hugged his son lightly, patting his back, just like countless years ago.

The time has come for the reunion.

Behind the huge black shadow at the foot of the mountain, the sun is gradually setting, a bird flies past, and when it comes to the end, it leaves a little black shadow in a few blushes, it almost melts into the black area of ​​the mountain, and then the light fades, it flies Entered, heaven and earth ushered in the night.

Youling sometimes looks at the father and son in the rearview mirror, and sometimes looks at the full moon rising above the east sea.That is the moon that everyone has looked up to throughout the ages. The moon is so high and far away. At this moment, the greatness is far away. The full moon is small and hazy, nestling at the top of a palm tree.

In the first half year in the United States, Youling went to study in New Jersey, met an economist, and got married again.Li Chengwu took his son to live in a big villa on the island. Because of the inconvenient transportation, he sold the villa and moved to an apartment in New York.

One winter, Li Chengwu was expelled from the party because he refused to return to Taiwan. He was very happy, as if all the grievances and entanglements for many years were wiped out. He even talked with Cong Fei about his funeral, who would come , who would not come, which person he met by chance received his kindness, and which friend who was as close as a brother hated him.

One morning, news came from San Francisco that Li Chengwu's elder brother Li Chengqi died of illness suddenly.Cong Fei couldn't believe it, and said that his uncle had written a letter to himself last week.

In the evening of the next day, it was snowing heavily in New York, and Cong Fei went home tremblingly (he went to a bank in Midtown after graduating from a master's degree), and scolded the manager of the investment banking department as soon as he entered the door: "Tell me that two jobs are like this. Difficult! Apart from being able to book a place at Club 21 on weekends, he knows nothing!"

Qingyu took Cong Fei's scarf, and with a shake, snow fell on the carpet.

Cong Fei said: "By the way, Dad, I have already asked for leave. Brother Xiaosu called me again this morning and insisted that we go to attend the funeral. He said it was the intention of my uncle before he died. As for me, my sister and I It's already been agreed, you see, why don't you save face and go together."

Li Chengwu stood by the window, looking at the snow through the glass, without looking back, just smiled and said: "You mean, you can't go if you don't go with me, there is nothing to worry about, you go, he won't go at night Come to find you bad luck."

"Bah, what are you talking about?" Cong Fei said angrily, "Uncle finally let go of his grievances, so can't you put down the butcher's knife?"

The snowflakes kept falling on the glass window. Li Chengwu saw the same heavy snow in Tantuo Temple on the outskirts of Beiping decades ago, and the morning when Li Chengqi set off for Nanjing.

At the beginning of 1912, before dawn, Li Chengqi took his hat and went out. When he came to the gate of the temple, he found his third brother quietly following behind and sent him out.He was holding a brand-new English umbrella, and walked slowly, with his usual softness on his face.

Li Chengqi turned around and walked under the umbrella, and said in a low voice, "The Nanjing government's compromise this time is not because the revolution was unsuccessful..."

Li Chengwu continued: "It's for the land of Mongolia and Tibet, for the many non-revolutionaries, to avoid civil war, and for the emperor's peaceful abdication..."

Li Chengqi interrupted: "Okay, no one wants to listen to your speech. After I leave, Yuan Shikai is very important here in Beijing. You are still young, so you have to study hard here."

A small river that was completely frozen outside the temple, the dark blue ice became thicker and thicker in the flying snow, Li Chengwu responded softly: "Yes, I see."

Li Chengqi said: "Go back, it's cold outside."

A blue-gray Mercedes-Benz was parked across the river, and it was snowing heavily. There were already early merchants and troops on the ancient road.Li Chengwu stopped across the river, and saw Li Chengqi walk across the stone bridge in the snow and got into the car, the sound of the Mercedes-Benz engine dissipating on the busy ancient road.

Li Chengwu felt that he was looking at this scene from somewhere else, so clear and gentle, as if he had been looking at Tantuo Temple in the snow after a long time—the shadows of eaves, locust trees, human voices, snowflakes and Mercedes-Benz cars, nothing else Those words are the rare proof that he recalled that he and his elder brother had lived together when he was young.

Suddenly there was a loud hiss on the river, and when he looked sideways, the ice cracked.

The brand-new era dragged the heavy remnants of the previous dynasty, set foot on the first river in Beiping City, and opened the first whip crack in the early spring of 1912 on the thick ice.

For decades, riding on the momentum, he has been entangled by power and fame, and at the same time entangled by the turbulent soul of the country. He is under the shackles of crime and self-punishment, in the dream of passion/desire, and in the illusion of politics and history In the past few decades, he had quarreled with his elder brother, children, friends, colleagues, teachers, and the chairman of the committee. Several of them were also shot dead by him with these things that entangled him.

These few people are like Li Chengqi, the closer they are, the more stuck they are, the more important they are, the heavier they are.In the end, the shadow of life does not depend on the king's form, and the soul of death does not connect with the king's dream.

There was fog on the window, Li Chengwu raised his hand and touched it, the mist melted into a small piece, the snow fell harder and harder, as if it couldn't stop, he said: "It is only meaningful to put the butcher's knife on the battlefield. There is no need for days when the flags are quiet and the drums are quiet." A compromise of meaning."

Cong Fei was silent for a while, and said: "I see, I don't mean to force you to go." His eyes suddenly turned red for some reason, and the smell of stewed fish soup wafted from the kitchen. He pinched his nose and asked Qingyu: "Today is the best time to go?" What are you cooking?"

Qingyu said: "Chrysanthemum perch soup."

"Bass?" Cong Fei muttered, "Oh, American bass!"

Li Chengwu said: "Don't leave the yin and yang weirdness there, it will be good to have you fish." He waved, "Come here, I will give you something."

Cong Fei walked over and saw Li Chengwu's hand resting on the window sill, his fingertips beating on the countertop, the white snow outside the window was reflected, and his nails were like transparent thin glass.

Cong Fei couldn't help reaching up to touch it, Li Chengwu took him by the hand, and took out a snow-green silk handkerchief from his pocket, and gently opened it, only to see a bright, gorgeous, dreamy red - three fried hawthorns in sugar.

"Where did it come from?"

"Today, I went to the Lower East District with Director Wang, and saw a food truck for sale."

Seeing Qingyu, she shouted: "Eat after eating! It's too sweet to eat!"

Cong Fei hurriedly picked up one and stuffed it into his mouth. The white sugar stuck to the palate, the meringue cracked, and the greasy flesh overflowed his cheeks, and the sweet and sour feeling spread all over his body.

He felt that he had returned to the Retreat Garden, and he was walking out of the long bamboo-patterned lacquer mirror. Looking back, there was no bustling, lively, absurd, adultery, ups and downs, gatherings and scatter , deserted, without defeat, without depression, everything in the world collapsed in the mirror, melting into circles of ripples, like a real big lake, with mixed colors and layers of waves, what can he and his stories stir up? Woolen cloth?

After gradually calming down, the mirror reflected the distant afternoon, the afternoon he named him, the thin egg-colored bed curtain, and the cold fragrance like ice flowers.Time is so fragile, alas!When they all go to the grave, that afternoon, this story will be eternal!

The author says:

After adjusting the chapters, I was tired of being blocked.Buicks and Mercedes-Benz were the cars that high-ranking officials and wealthy businessmen often rode at that time, and I thought Buicks were more beautiful.If you want to fill in a poem, you should leave me a comment after reading it! !