When those babbling voices sounded, the teahouse, sitting, standing, and crowded. Pen & Fun & Pavilion www.biquge.info

Most of the old people came to join in the fun and take a look, and after a while, they shook their heads and left with emotion "It's not interesting".

Jingxi pulled me, squeezed through the crowd, and leaned on the stage to watch the play with my head tilted.

The people on the stage are even more charming than they appear in the picture, even if they are men, they are wearing a thick layer of makeup, and their eyes are drawn by the brush to be slender, squinted, as if they are two ink-colored willow leaves.

I don't know if I want to turn white and red on my face, but in my opinion, it is similar to the longevity peaches steamed by the old people when they make birthday banquets. The people on the stage cocked their orchid fingers, singing the words of the play that I didn't understand, babbling, and couldn't figure out his tone, and could only read a little sadness in the play from his expression.

Jingxi's grandfather said that it was Kunqu Opera, a unique tune in Jiangnan, tactful and sad. The eyes of the singer are like water, and they sing to the deep melancholy, as if they want to turn into a pool of blue water with the sorrowful lovesickness.

Frowning, as if a feather crossed the calm lake in my heart, there were shallow ripples of sadness. In every gesture, it is charming, the beauty is soft and boneless, the talent is delicate and handsome, and a melancholy story under the moon before the flower is written.

I waited until the end of the song and after the people dispersed, I ran to the backyard to find the class master to copy a piece of singing, and in the rain alley on the way back, thinking of the lilac-like woman that the poet had sang, I frowned and sang: "It turns out that the purple and red are all over the place, and they seem to be paid to the broken wells and ruins." The beautiful scenery of the good day is a day, and it is a pleasure to enjoy the courtyard. Flying in the morning and twilight, clouds and clouds, rain and wind, smoke and waves painting boats, Jinping people look at this Shaoguang cheap. ”

Holding the orchid finger, in the narrow alley, pointing to the mottled marks of the years on the wall, it seems to count the red dust of this opera's life.

Later, I learned that Kunqu Opera is not the best opera sung by this troupe, and they are best at Peking Opera. A few days before the troupe left the town, Jing Xi and I went around to the backyard of the teahouse again, and we heard them sing "Farewell My Concubine". is different from the singing tone of Kunqu Opera, which lacks the gentle and tactful sorrow like water, and there is a desolate melancholy in the delicate and long notes.

On the day when the troupe sang their last scene in the town, a thin snow fell on the amorous land of Jiangnan. The snow in the south is not as fierce as in the north, and it is as gentle as the catkins that fly in spring, falling lightly, and as soon as it touches the earth, it melts, and the ground is only a wet patch, and the air is full of white catkins. Many people came to the teahouse to watch the ending scene before parting. This song sings the end of "The Peony Pavilion", and Liniang finally married Liu Mengmei through the corpse, like a fairy tale-like ending. The people in the teahouse shouted "Good!" Then the applause, the play is over, and it is reluctant to disperse.

The people of the teahouse dispersed, and the snow in the town also drifted heavily, and a thin layer of white cool quilt was spread on the roof of the green tiles, and the stone slabs that had faded into the moss were still wet, and people stepped on the indentations of the bluestone slabs that had time to melt in the future, and disappeared without a trace.

The children who live in the south are very fond of this kind of snow, and they run to the yard, stretch out their hands to catch the falling elf, and fall into the palm of their hand, and before they can look closely, it quickly melts in the temperature of the palm.

In the end, a pair of small hands were red from the cold, but they still couldn't see the appearance of the snowflakes. The kids want it to be bigger, so they can play like on TV, build snowmen and have snowball fights like they write in the textbooks. It's just that the expected white snow covered the sky and the earth overnight, and the sky that drifted to the south of the Yangtze River also became gentle, light as a flocculent, and melted when it touched the ground.

On Chinese New Year's Eve, the temperature quietly dives below 0 degrees, the snow falls silently, and the stagnant water in the stone slab dents changes in an imperceptible way, merging with the falling snow flocculents, reflecting a cold light.

The whole town slept in the quilts lightly covered with snow, and the people slept in a peaceful sleep, with no quarrels, no dogs barking, and the sky and the earth were silent on the eve of dawn, shrouded in deep blue.

A dull sound, a crisp note from the cracking of the thin ice, tried to break the silence of the cold night when the snow was flying, but finally died in a long, helpless sigh.

There was a loud screech, then a silent silence, and the snow fell down on the pale trail, stained with new gray-black mud. The town is still asleep in a dream, and it looks like it is safe.

In the early morning, the snow that had been sprinkled for a day and a night stopped, and the sun shone through the clouds, and before the town fully woke up, the thin layers of ice and snow on the stone slabs melted, and only the mottled snow shadows remained on the moss and tiles.

The sound of chickens, dogs barking, and the sound of spatulas colliding are hidden in the smoke and the smell of rice, and the sound of children's firecrackers crackles...... The town is waking up and bustling.

The door of Jingxi's house has been hidden since the morning, and the old man's New Year has always been deserted, just like the years when I was with my grandmother. The old man didn't get up very late, only Jingxi came out twice, and soon went in again, still covering the door. He said that the old man got up at night before dawn this morning, and the elderly people moved their muscles and bones when they fell, and it is estimated that they have to lie down for a while.

When I went to see the old man, he was lying on a carved wooden bed, and I heard that the vermilion carved bed was now an antique. The old man stood up, and Jingxi tucked two pillows behind him, and he leaned back, squinting his eyes slightly.

The carved bed, the years have taken away the luster it originally had, and the sunlight can no longer dance an elegant waltz on this stage that has lost its smoothness. The imprints of engraving are sprinkled with the dust of time, and if those stories that have been forgotten beyond the nine heavens cannot be picked up. The carved vines, flowers and leaves are entangled, like lovers in love.

Although the carving is not exquisite, the villain hidden in the bushes can vaguely distinguish the expression on his face, the talent is modest, and the beauty is gentle. The scarlet lacquer bottom, the gold-dyed clothes, and the black-drawn lines have all faded away from the flashiness of time, revealing the depth of the heart that has been hidden for a long time.

The old man tried to move his legs, but the bed squeaked hoarsely, and finally he was defeated by pain. He couldn't help but sigh lightly: "Eh, I'm really old, I can't afford to ......"

He suddenly stopped sighing, as if he didn't know what kind of words to continue later, I can only guess, whether I can't help fate to play tricks on him behind time, or I can't help the fragility left to him by the passage of time. Suddenly, I seemed to see the sad posture of the vicissitudes of life. (To be continued.) )