There was the sound of footsteps approaching, and I pressed my ears to the door, trying to hear the tone of each step, and to put this step into the most secret corner of my heart. Pen & Fun & Pavilion www.biquge.info

"Autumn ...... Goodbye......" Through the door, Jingxi's farewell pierced deep into my mind.

Leaning against the door and listening to the footsteps of the distance, I suddenly felt that all my thoughts were empty, and tears fell out of my eyes unconsciously. I opened the door and faced the emptiness of the courtyard alone.

After Jingxi left, I sat in the courtyard and stared at the old man's closed room all day. The sun was slanting to the west, and the stone steps were not in the gray shadow, and the sunlight hit the potholed walls and the vermilion wooden doors that had been repainted, suddenly reflecting an old scene.

Looking through the crack in the door, the room was empty, and only the sunlight filtered through the hollow wooden window, casting a fence-like shadow on the ground, as if to separate and rearrange the old things one by one. The dust dances in the light, accompanied by the silent song of the years, and if you can rest in the old time, you can hear it singing.

After Jingxi left, he never came back, and the old man's house was always empty. Sometimes I peek through the crack in the door to peek at the empty house covered in dust, and I can't find that sense of déjà vu anymore. The familiar people are old and gone, the familiar houses are old and empty, the old things are like dust, and the empty houses are all over, and the wooden doors creak and close, binding the shackles of time.

Outside the door, I watched those old things settle down, and suddenly felt that the place I was in was unfamiliar like never before.

After a few years in a trance, at the time of graduation, my father tore up my transcript and smashed it on me with the junior high school diploma. Shattered confetti fell to the ground, and the shameful scores were torn apart, lying on the bluestone slabs and gasping.

White confetti was scattered all over the ground, paying tribute to the best years of my life.

"Look what you're doing!" was the first time I had seen my father so angry. He flipped out my homework book, pointed at the little people painted on it, yelled at me, and then angrily tore up the homework book and threw it at me. The lines that were repeatedly drawn were broken alive, the gentle smile on the paper was shattered in the piercing tearing sound, and the corners of the smiling mouth became a kind of complaining arc. At that moment, I felt like what little familiarity I had was gone.

My father yelled at me, and I looked down at the shattered scraps of paper and fell silent. Four-year-old Frost was so frightened by her father's appearance that she screamed and ran around the house, and her mother couldn't stop holding her and yelled at me.

"Smack!" I reflexively looked up, and the porcelain vase beside the bed had turned into shards and scattered all over the ground. The second crunch of breaking, only I could hear, it came from the bottom of my heart.

Frost's fingers were scratched by the shards, and she stood on the edge of the bed and cried, her mouth wide open and she made a piercing sound. My mother scolded and went over to pull her, and my father took a look, turned around, and continued to glare at me angrily.

I pushed him away, ran to the edge of the bed and squatted down, picked up the pieces one by one, and placed them on the white cotton cloth on a blue background that was laid flat at the head of the bed. Tears rolled down her face.

My father came and kicked me in dismay, and I threw myself on the pile of broken porcelain, the shards cutting my cheeks and staining me with a blush.

I wrapped the shards, looked up, glared at him with the most resentful eyes, and he glared at me, and then raised my hand. I tilted my head, dodged his slap, and rushed out the door with the cotton-wrapped piece of porcelain.

"Run, run, don't come back!" the father's voice fell behind him.

I ran all the way, like I was on an escape, and I didn't dare to stop. Ran out of the deep alleys, ran across the old stone bridge, ran to the field behind the town, leaned on the stone monument, looked at the high sky, and gasped for breath.

I tore off the dead vines that were climbing on my grandmother's tombstone, knelt down beside the grave, dug a shallow pit, re-wrapped the porcelain pieces, put them in, and covered them with earth. Pick up a piece of bamboo and insert it, and use stone to carve out three twisted fonts on it: "Autumn Tomb".

I looked at it and cried very sadly, and all of a sudden, I didn't know who I was, and this woman named Qiu was really buried here. As I once thought, this wilderness is the final destination of life in the town, and so am I, and I will eventually return to this cold land.

As the twilight grew thicker, I sat on my knees, numb my legs, struggling to stand up, dragging my heavy shell back, leaving my soul on the ground behind me. The door was closed, and a dim light was leaking through the cracks, and I pushed the door and it was locked from the inside. I banged on the door, but no one came to open it. I sat down with my back to the door panel and sat in the cold night all night. Once again, I forgot who I was, Jiangnan in the dark and cold, terrifyingly strange. Wrap your arms around yourself, tightly, and feel that loneliness is such an intense presence.

I don't know how long it took, but it was already light, and the door behind me was slowly opened, and the creaking voice brought me out of the cold dream and into reality. Frost poked her head out of it and looked at me, blinking innocently as her father was behind her, with a deep sigh.

In the future, I can't see the end of the voyage at a glance, it feels too long, and the time that has passed away always disappears too quickly, and I can't see the way it came from. The best years of my teenage years are not so much too short as they are too fast. Like the fireworks of that year, gorgeous but short-lived, fleeting.

The winter when my aunt arrived, my father said to me, "Autumn, you don't have to go to school. ”

Perhaps, in the next light years, I will be depressed and resentful of this man because of this sentence. Such a cold sentence cut off my flowering season and pushed me to the other cliff. And I have no qualifications to resist, like a young eagle falling from a cliff, on the verge of death, learning another kind of flight.

This winter, the strangeness is so strange that people can't help but want to escape. The familiar door had been closed in dust, and it had become a distant memory, and after I left, it might never be opened again.

The wooden door, which has been patronized by rain and sunshine year after year, has faded its dark red paint, and the Spring Festival couplets that have been sleeping in the old days have faded their bright colors, and they are so broken that they cannot be seen in their original handwriting. The knocker had become patina in the years of rest, and the brass had fallen short of the brass ring on the other door, and the rusty iron lock was still hanging there, and the key had gone with its owner. Through the cracks in the door panels, it seems to see the silent old time.

When I left, Jiangnan was the same, but the only familiar feeling I had was about to disappear. Wander between alleys and stone bridges, around the clear, eternal meandering river, through the seasons behind the town to the barren land. I saw the clips called the past, shattered into fireworks under the gray-white sky. Walking through the mound where the cat that had died in the past winter had been buried, the land had long since been wiped out by countless footsteps, and I only had vague memories left in my mind. Walking past my grandmother's sleeping place, the stone tablet still clings to the dead vines that had died in the cold air, and with a slight pull, it broke apart. Walking through the land where the old man who was obsessed with antiques was buried, the black and white photos on the stone tablet were a shallow smile that had been sealed in the dust. I saw my "Autumn Tomb", the fragments buried in the dirt, as if it was predicting my life. And the boy who accompanied me through the fireworks season, Jingxi, after a long, long time, I think, I will not remember you again, just as you can no longer draw my outline clearly, those memories that were so nostalgic and lingering, in the broken sand of time, gradually faded away.

I finally left Gangnam in a way that went against my expectations. Sitting in the car, through the window stained with rain and dust, bid farewell to the hazy retreating scenery of Jiangnan. There was still no emotion on his father's face, and his mother set her eyes on the barren winter wilderness on both sides of the road.

Only Frost waved her little hand at me, and she read something in her mouth, and it seemed to be "sister" from the shape of her mouth.

She suddenly cried as she read it, and my heart was shocked, and I began to understand the subtle feelings we had before, the kind of blood and family relationship that was still in the rainy years in the south of the Yangtze River.

Perhaps, long after a long time, I will still miss the scenery I once hoped for. Swaying away in the sparkling water, candlelight, fireworks, red silk, the reflection reflected in the water, cut into pieces by the ripples of the boat, rippling in the water. The scenery of Jiangnan, the people of Jiangnan, and the dream of Jiangnan are integrated into a melancholy and hazy picture, which is the smoke and rain of Jiangnan.

The mist hazy the landscape and the towers, like a vain dream, can't see clearly, and if the ethereal fairyland, it is also illusory and real. The mist also hazy eyes, hazy the world, hazy melancholy emotions, in the sky and the earth, into an old dream. I don't know honor and disgrace in my dreams, no joy or sorrow, only the past, like smoke and dust, as soon as I stretched out my hand, it scattered and faded. When I woke up from the dream, the clouds and mist dissipated, some were just nostalgia, and all that was left was the two lines of tears that slid down my cheeks.

After the car turned the corner, I said goodbye to Gangnam. Say goodbye to Jiangnan, say goodbye to the past, say goodbye to those familiar, and say goodbye to the woman who only belongs to the smoke and rain of Jiangnan.

After all, I still left myself in the smoke and rain of Jiangnan, no matter how Yunnan Pei is displaced in the future, Qiu is just a quiet woman in a small town in Jiangnan, tossing and turning, the soul is still unable to take away, she stays there, as if waiting for a distant reunion.

I turned my head sideways and looked out the window at the unfamiliar scene that was rapidly receding and blurred, and the face reflected in the window turned into a dim shadow, and my expression was indifferent.

The south of the Yangtze River is good, and the scenery is old.

The sunrise river flowers are red, and the spring river is as green as blue.

Can not remember Jiangnan. (To be continued.) )