The mountains outside the window passed by one after another, and then the three words "Xuancheng Station" suddenly burst into view.
Wanling Lake is like a piece of emerald, placed there, Jingting Mountain is behind it, showing a faint appearance, similar to a stroke of ink that is not evenly blended. Li Bai instantly appeared in my mind, that guy who never gets tired of seeing each other. He has been admiring this mountain for a lifetime, but I just took one look and my heart settled down.
Did I really meet Xie Tiao in Jingting Mountain?
Who says the mountain has to be very high? Jingting Mountain is only over 300 meters long, but it can contain the entire Southern Dynasty.
In the mountains, the cuckoos bloomed. The locals said that it was the "Xie Gong bird" and that it came from the changes after Xie Tiao's death. In that case, is this situation ridiculous? However, sitting on the "Taibai Sitting Alone Stone", the stone was covered with wet moss, I actually believed it. When the wind blew, the forest made a rustling sound. I couldn't tell whether it was the soul of poetry crying or whether it was just the blowing wind that made such a sound.
A child was sketching nearby and shouted to his mother: "Mom, that mountain seems to be moving!" In fact, it was not the mountain that was moving, but the clouds. What a fool, but so poetic.
The rain of Chaji and the endless spring
On the day we went to Chaji, it rained.
The stream is turbid, but the peach blossoms are getting redder. The white walls and black tiles blurred into one piece in the rain and fog. In the end, it didn't look like a village, but just like someone accidentally knocked over the inkstone, and the ink was scattered everywhere. I hid under the bridge opening of De'an Bridge. The bridge was from the Ming Dynasty, and the patterns on the stone slabs were almost worn away.
On the opposite side of the bridge, there was an old woman selling bamboo shoots. She covered her head with a plastic bag. I didn’t buy bamboo shoots. She just stared at me without smiling. Suddenly I felt that her eyes were like the water flowing under the bridge. It has been flowing for hundreds of years and has witnessed too many passers-by like me.
Peach Blossom Pond: A scam? Or sincerely?
"The water in Peach Blossom Pond is a thousand feet deep" - who comes here without carrying this poem on his back?
At that time, Wang Lun deceived Li Bai by saying that there was "Ten Miles of Peach Blossoms and Wanjia Hotels". However, Peach Blossoms was actually the name of the pool, and Wanjia was the owner of the store whose surname was Wan. Nowadays, this is a kind of clickbait, and he will be scolded to death. However, Li Bai was not angry, and even wrote a quatrain for him that has been passed down through the ages.
There is still Tage'an Pavilion. I stood on the pavilion and looked down. The water was extremely green and deep. Suddenly he realized that what Wang Lun had deceived was not Li Bai, but giving him a reason why he must come. What friendship does, sometimes requires such an excuse.
Autumn has already deepened, and the ginkgo leaves in front of you have formed a thick layer, with a dazzling yellow color and a soft texture when stepped on, as if stepping on the distant songs of the past thousands of years.
That bite, Xuancheng can chew
When you are hungry, you have to find something to eat.
Among the Three Treasures of Shuiyang, my favorite is duck foot buns. It is made of duck intestines tied with duck heart and duck feet, and becomes shiny after steaming. When you take a bite, the texture is very chewy and the aroma is so rich that it can go straight to your head. It is said that Xie Tiao developed this way of eating when he was in Shuiyang. After more than a thousand years, the literati have disappeared, but the poetry still remains, and this food still exists.
There’s also Jixi’s “Chinese pizza,” which is tart cakes. It is stuffed with Chinese toon and is held warm in the hand. People walking along Longchuan Water Street can see the crystal clear water and the mochi mochi displayed by the shops. This kind of fireworks is more intimate than any scenery.
In the rice paper, it’s time to pick it up
The rice paper culture park in winter is so cold that people shrink their necks.
In the "three-foot-three" paper fishing workshop, craftsmen rolled up their sleeves and fished paper from the water, going through one hundred and eight processes, not missing a single step. The piece of paper was so big that it took dozens of people to fish it out.
This year's Spring Festival Gala, that "three feet three" appeared on the screen. However, what I stared at was not the paper, but the hands of the craftsman, which were whitened by soaking and had thick joints. What they picked up was not paper, it was clearly time itself.
I tried to get one myself, and it was extremely ugly. The master glanced briefly, turned around and left without making a sound. After a while, he came back and threw me a piece of leftover material: "Keep it, it's better than yours."
Winter sunset, and those unfinished things
There is really no one in Jingting Mountain after the snow.
Wan Lai was silent and quiet. He shouted towards the empty mountain once, and the snow on the bamboo leaves fell to the ground. There was a man walking towards the solitary building, thinking of imitating Li Bai's "high-rise building", but in the end he was shivering from the cold, and then hurriedly ran down the mountain.
On the way down the mountain, I passed the Twin Pagodas of Guangjiao Temple. They were two brick towers from the Northern Song Dynasty. They stood diagonally in the snow. I don’t know how many years this tilted state has lasted, but it has remained tilted like this and will not fall down.
It's very much like this city. I've seen everything, pretended to be everything, but said nothing.
The days in Xuancheng are not long, but they are just a circle following the four seasons.
Watching cuckoos in spring, listening to flowing springs in summer, stepping on ginkgo biloba in autumn, and walking in the snow in winter.
I feel the craftsmanship in the texture of the rice paper, and I taste my hometown in the smoke from the ancient village.
Someone asked, what exactly is there in Xuancheng?
There are poems, wine, the sincerity of old Wang Lun in deceiving Li Bai, and the absurdity of Xie Tiao turning into a cuckoo.
Some are the duck feet buns that fill your mouth with oil in one bite, and some are the rice paper that has been fished out for more than a thousand years.
If you are tired too, come on.
Go to Jingting Mountain to relax for a while, feel the rain in Chaji, go to Peach Blossom Pond to see the "scam", and then find an old street to taste a freshly baked tart cake.
Xuancheng doesn't speak, it just waits for you.
Just like when I looked back in the snow that day, the two leaning towers were still in place.
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