This year's Nagoya Cherry Blossom Festival is in full bloom on March 27, three days before March. Yesterday there were still more flowers and bones, and the warm wind blew through the night, and the trees were full of flowers, and the early flowers were lost, adding a touch of beauty.

Under the bright sun, the five-story corniced building of Furuya Castle is surrounded by cherry blossoms. Coming to Nagoya without seeing Furuya Castle is like going to Jingbei without going to Tiananmen Square, and it is definitely a must-visit.

The Tokugawa family's hereditary castle is now a popular attraction for tourists. The cherry blossoms are in full bloom for a short time, and during these two days, there are even more tourists. There is a Japanese haiku that says, "The red dust is bitter, and the cherry blossoms bloom by themselves." ”

In the culture of the Yamato nation, there is always a little gray color, which is very different from the Chinese people's joy of red. When the cherry blossoms bloom, that is, when the flowers fall. The red dust is rolling, in the eyes of these cherry trees, the red dust is all passers-by, you come, I am here, if you don't come, I will open myself.

Travelers walk on the path leading to Furuya Castle, and the cherry blossoms wither silently and gorgeously, satisfying all their perception and recognition of beauty—the so-called "death and destruction" is the destruction of beautiful things for people to see. This kind of consciousness is vividly displayed in their literature, songs, calligraphy and paintings.

I don't know when,

An ancient song sounded leisurely.

It's a very old song, and when you stand on the verandah and listen to it, you realize that the cherry blossom song, a folk song that may have been widely sung since the Edo period.

****

桜桜

Noyama も里も

See 渡す限り

霞か云か

朝日に匂ふ

桜桜

花ざかり

****

Many people were attracted by this familiar melody, stopped in front of the cabin, admired this childhood memory, and even whispered along with the song:

sa ku ra

sa ku ra

ya yo i no so ra a

mi a ta su ka gi ri

ka su mi ka ku mo ka

ni o i zo i zu ru

i za ya

i za ya

mi ni yu ka n

***

The sound of the guqin is very special, very simple, it can't achieve a clear and beautiful timbre, but it is so ethereal, so desperate, just like this cherry blossom, whether it is blooming or withering, it is so beautiful. Nagoya Castle in the distance is even more distant......

Gu cheng.

Cherry blossom.

Piano music.

Many weathered old people snuggled up to the pillars of the verandah, closing their eyes and enjoying the beauty of this moment. Perhaps only by closing their eyes and relying on the auditory memories evoked can they remember the piece of taiyaki from their childhood.

Although I don't know who is playing the music, the one who can play the music so excitingly with the guqin must be a music master.

The piano fell.

The jade finger on the strings paused, looked up at the green tile high-rise building, and the cherry blossoms outside the window floated in and landed on the piano wood. The eyes were smart, looking out the window.

"It's really beautiful......"

She picked up the guqin, walked out of the back alley on the side, and hummed in a low voice:

Peach blossoms

Peach blossoms

Under the sunny sky in March

Endless peach blossoms

Flowers are like a sea of clouds, like colorful glow

The fragrance is incomparably picturesque

Come on

Come on

Come and see the peach blossoms

……

……

The pen in Zhong Yue's hand was still hanging. He remembered sitting on his father's handmade bench that night.

That innocent little girl, staring at the bare branches, fantasized about the spring in March, the peach blossoms blooming all over the mountain, now the time is just right, but what about people?

In another half a month, I may have to go to the mountains to see.

The dangling tip of the pen stood in the air, like a sharp blade, ready to strike at any moment.

Bloomed......

A little ink peach falls on the paper.

In Chinese painting, there is more ink color used to paint plums, and more pastels are used to paint peaches. The peach petals falling on the paper can't be seen by Jin Yinglie on the side, and Jiang Boheng who came over can't see it, only Zhong Yue can see it in this still heaven and earth.

The ink color gradually thickened, and the paved stone road extended to the end of the calligraphy hall, and the peach forest around it was like a scruples, growing on the table, growing on people, and growing on ...... on the trash can.

Zhong Yue's eyes were staring into the distance, and he was silent for a long time, the bonfire on the side had been extinguished, and the smoke was rising from the ground.

He still waited, letting the peach fall on the paper, on his shoulder, on the ...... Heart.

"What is he looking at?"

Jiang Boheng stopped and followed Zhong Yue's gaze to look over there.

"Is it borrowing from Yan Zhenqing's "Self-Written Confession"? Is it a little late to borrow it again? Or are you looking for inspiration?"

Many people's works have been completed one after another.

Since the Korean Dynasty de-Chinese, the original self-feeling of good law, penmanship, in those symbols in Korean, has become a joke, especially many calligraphers who start with the Chinese stele culture, in these horizontal and vertical circles of the symbols, no matter how to evolve, it seems to be half the effort, Jin Yinglie and other old calligraphers, still use Chinese characters to write, but once the country's text and calligraphy are separated, then it means that the meaning of calligraphy disappears.

Rather than this, it is better for the Yamato people to simply admit that their writing contains Chinese culture.

What about people......

I'm waiting for you.

Zhong Yue looked at the space where ink and matter intersected, and he was looking for the girl who played the piano.

I have something very important to look for you, people......

Time seems to stand still. Zhong Yue looked at the ink spots in the sky, and in an instant, the ink peach turned into sharp strokes again.

Three petals and two petals folded, like a silver hook.

The old branches of the tree resemble hanging needles.

In Zhong Yue's eyes, a book is a painting, and a painting is a book.

You don't come,

I'm the only one to find you.

The pen touches the paper.

This piece of paper comes from a 200-year-old shop in Nagoya, Japan. They made paper in their time, and their ancestors have made paper for generations.

The tip of the pen falls, and the whole world of ink is twisted and sucked into the pen.

Zhong Yue's wrist was steady, hanging his wrist and writing, and his hands were no longer as shaky as they were at the beginning. The strokes are tactful, like nine curves of the Milky Way.

Japanese calligraphers believe that the law is the main culprit that imprisons the freedom of calligraphy, but they do not know that once the law becomes their own law, then they become the master, and as for freedom, it is all natural.

"Destiny is such a thing, born to be stepped underfoot. Come back, the sweet potatoes are baked, I'm waiting for you. ”

If words can speak, then the text that Zhong Yue landed on the paper was like a whisper, the kind of voice was magnetic, gentle, like the attraction of gravity, and he wanted to get closer to him every minute and every second, but there was a kind of ascetic worship, wanting to reach out and hand it to him.

"Is this the text?" Jin Yingmu looked at the work, unable to take his eyes off it for a long time.

He is resolutely opposed to de-sinicization, because the Chinese script is flesh and blood, but the pile of symbols, like the Arabic alphabet, is lifeless.

He clearly saw the thickness of this work.