When I was sorting out my notes, I saw the interview record of visiting Mr. Shi Tingcun in 1995, densely packed with more than a dozen pages, hidden in the middle of a notebook. Every time I read it, I always have different feelings and revelations. The reason why it has not been sorted out is that there are too many clues, and what Mr. Shi said is flying in his thoughts. At the age of 90, it is really convincing that a person can maintain such a wide range of ideas. It is said to be an interview, but in fact, it is more of an old gentleman talking about himself, who wears hearing aids. He took the microphone-like little thing in his hand and stretched it out in front of me. His assistant prompted me to raise my voice louder and louder, and I almost shouted. Even so, Mr. Shi followed his train of thought and paid little attention to the specific questions I asked, and then I buried myself in taking notes. For almost an hour, Mr. Shi was almost alone in his speech, and his thoughts were clear and his voice was loud. I remember that it was an afternoon in mid-May, and the gentleman was still wearing a thick cotton robe, thin, but powerful in a chair. Looking at his demeanor, I suddenly feel that this is a silhouette in the history of modern culture.

Mr. Shi said a point that is worth recalling, he said that the current "fun" of prose writing is too strong, "momentary likes and dislikes" have made too many articles, not "in simple terms", but "shallow in and deep out", shallow feeling deep writing, "very deep, very long and grand talk about a small thing", he said that these articles are not bad, but in a few years it will not be interesting. Looking back on Mr. Shi's point of view today, it is like a golden stone.

To put it simply, prose is nothing more than two kinds, the touching of daily life and the sigh from the depths of the soul, and the touching of daily life is easy to surface, which is very normal. Daily life is superficial things, daily life, travel, eating, making friends, reading, temperament, likes and dislikes, and the joys and troubles of growing up. It is natural for these specific activities to enter literature, and some people accuse it of being too superficial, and I think this accusation is inappropriate and excessive, just as we cannot accuse the leaves of the trees of being green, withering, and green for simple repetition, this simplicity is a higher simplicity, and the prose of this state cannot be regarded as a "false prosperity", they have as much meaning as the trees, flowers, and flowing air on both sides of the street. Imagine what it would be like to have the streets and alleys of a city lined with roots and carvings.

And the sigh in the depths of the soul must be serious, not arbitrary, let alone "opportunistic". Thirty years ago, the cluster eruption of a group of old cultural people and writers after they were "thawed" deeply touched so many people - people of the same age as them, younger generations and later generations. There is every reason to believe that these articles will continue to influence and guide the survival of those who have not yet suffered. This kind of spiritual posture is like the "Lingxun" of the Yellow River, with a violent earth-shattering surge, whistling, shaking, shaking the lonely riverbed, and even some mud and water. Only those who originate from the heart can enter the heart, and only those who come after the wind and frost can complain of the wind and frost.

Prose writing cannot become a barnyard grass that shows the direction of the wind of the times, and when the southeast wind blows, it is happy and contented, and it stretches out its little hand to try to embrace the whole world; once the northwest wind comes, it is indifferent and sluggish. Twenty years ago, there was a fitness machine called "hula hoop", which was very popular for a while. The kind of behavior of putting yourself in the center and making yourself happy is very funny, whether it is good for the body or not, first make yourself hot and then talk. If you think about it, "*****" is a big hula hoop, and all the Chinese people are making trouble from top to bottom. Sometimes, this kind of blind "heating" oneself is not necessarily a small matter, and if it is big, it will bring disaster to the country and the people.

Twenty years ago, there was a person named Wang Guozhen who came to the poetry scene quickly, but after a while, he disappeared with a faster pace, and there was no background left. It's a bit like a detail in a movie, someone is staying in the house, and suddenly he hears a "clang" sound of leather boots knocking on the road from a distance, and stops in front of the door, maybe he smokes a cigarette, and walks away, this person opens the door and looks left and right, leaving nothing. Then the man wondered if what he had just heard was true. I am reminded now of this burlesque from twenty years ago, also inspired by the current sporadic state of the prose world. I can't say who is today's Wang Guozhen, and it's not easy to say who is playing hula hoop in today's prose world.

The sigh in the depths of the soul should be smooth and natural, and at the same time, it should be in the chest. It's just that if you're looking for something interesting or not interesting in your heart, such a work may be okay to read right now, but it will look funny in a few years.

After all, only those who can develop can be the last word.