Hunter and Hussar

Chapter 31 The Passerby of History

what can fall from us,
We all let it turn to dust:
we arrange us in this age
Like autumn trees, one by one
Leaves and some belated flowers
Leave it to the autumn wind to relax the tree
Into the harsh winter; we arrange our

In nature, like a molted cicada moth

Throw all the shells in the mud;

we put us on that
future death, like a song,
The voice falls off the body of the music,

After all, the body of music remains
The green hills that turned into one vein are silent.

——Feng Zhi[1]
Again, I was like a child playing hide-and-seek, not knowing what I was afraid of, nor what I wanted most: to stay hidden, or to be found.

—George Perek
"You are back. I haven't seen you for a long time. You have changed, but you are still the same as before." When I passed the old man on the wicker chair, she spoke.

"Grandma, are you talking to me?" There was no one else around, so she could only talk to me.

I don't know her age.If it is a child, you can probably tell whether it is a primary school student or a middle school student by looking at their tone of voice, walking posture, and degree of hunchback.Not so for the elderly, whose bodies have been sculpted by time into various poses without leaving an explanation for the bystanders. Ninety years old may be vigorous, and seventy years old may be old.This grandma is quiet, showing the serenity of ancient wood.

"You're back."

I didn't want to leave, but I didn't know what to say.The hot summer sun seems to have weakened a little in the alley, and it is warm for the old man.She looked at me and repeated the same sentence, as if I had indeed had some connection with her.I don't remember, there are too many facts that I can't remember.Maybe we never met, she took me for someone else.

"Child, don't be afraid." There was a sound of crutches hitting the ground from the door behind her, and another old man came out from the dark door. Her movements were quite flexible, and it could be seen that the long distance There is still a long time to lie in the wicker chair.

She motioned for me to walk over, with her back to the wicker chair.It was so quiet that only the two of us could hear it.

"Have you ever talked to my mother before?"

It's a strange feeling that children can also become so old, so old that they are almost the same as their parents, with the same wrinkles on their faces.We all hope that our parents will live a long and healthy life, so they will no longer grow old when they are old, and we are constantly catching up with them and growing old together.

"I can't remember." As if I was the old man.

"She may have seen you wearing a jersey. If you are not busy, talk to her. Is it okay? Mom is almost 90 years old, and she has suffered a lot since she was a child. There is no one left in the family, and I have suffered a serious injury. , It was hard to survive, and I had endless nightmares every night. Later, I met my father, and he was with her all the time, and she gradually came out. After liberation, my father joined the workers’ football team and played as a striker. My mother often Went to his game. Dad died 30 years ago. Since then, mom has become more and more forgetful. She always sits on the street with a rattan chair, takes medicine and sees a doctor. She seems to be waiting Who. In order to make my mother feel better, we occasionally take her to watch the game. It seems that only when she sees someone running and running, her eyes will suddenly roll. She looks at everything, middle school students, college students, careers Yes. You go and have a word with her, okay? She will be very happy. But don’t mention things that happened too long ago. Just talk about your own life. The old man is very willing to listen to the children.”

I saw something flicker in her puckered eye sockets.

"You're back."

I did walk back to her side.There is a wind in the alleyway, which is cool and pleasant to me.Will she be cold?In the hot summer.

"Yes, I'm back."

"You've changed. But it's still the same. I recognize you."

"I recognize you too."

"It's been so long, what are you doing?"

"I'm playing football, football."

"You're still kicking."

"Yes, I'm still kicking."

"How is the family?"

"Okay. Mom and dad are fine. Brother... is fine too."

"My parents are dead. My younger brother is also dead." She suddenly raised her branch-like arm and made a downward movement, like a player who is dissatisfied with the referee's decision and throws the ball to the ground to vent. Behavior that requires a yellow card.She smashed fast, and despite having nothing in her hands, she had the scariest expression of any player I've ever seen.

"I am so sad."

"How long will you stay this time?"

"I don't know, what do you think?"

"The last time you came back was three years ago, and you said you would visit me often. It's been three years, and you haven't been here once."

What the hell is she talking about?Maybe it was thinking of me as her long-dead husband.On a certain day three years ago, she thought that the person she would never be able to return to was back. This is a common imagination of the elderly.Perhaps it was the reappearance of her past memories. The grandfather really separated from her for three years when she was young, and she had been waiting for him to come back. Now her memory has faded, and she only remembers that she was waiting for someone.Waiting forever, forever three years.

Or, instead of seeing me as her former young lover, she mistook me for someone else?Maybe one day three years ago, Xianxian once passed here, walked on the stone road I am walking on now, met this old man, listened to her story like I do today, and tried to talk to her like I am now, And promised to see her often.However, Xianxian didn't think at that time that he would no longer be able to run with his feet and breathe through his nose. He might have met the person she had been waiting for for a long time earlier than this old man.

If only there was a photo I could show the old man and ask her if a boy who looked like this talked to her three years ago, if she could remember.It's unlikely she remembered, she probably still does.She said I'm back, changed, but still the same.I have indeed changed, I am no longer the person I was three years ago, and Xianxian is still three years ago.

"You don't seem to be him." She spoke again suddenly, and I saw her blinking dry eyes, as if she saw something, "You are a good boy, but you can't lie. You are not him, you are always yourself. "

Who am I not?Her husband is still Xianxian?If she really treats me as Xianxian, I will be very happy, and I will be willing to visit her often instead of Xianxian, and help him continue the previous agreement.

"Who am I not?"

"You are not him. You are yourself."

"Who is he?"

"He wants to come back. He hasn't come back yet, you are back. It's also very good, you didn't lose yourself."

I don't know what to say.

"I have a little granddaughter, she is very similar to you, she can also play football..."

I asked her what her name was, but she didn't answer and continued talking.At the end of the story, it seemed as if she had gone through the four seasons, she forgot everything that happened just now, and started staring at me again, saying that I was back.

Maybe it's time to leave.I told her that I would visit her again in the future.Maybe Xianxian really did the same thing as me three years ago, I don't know, just like I don't know if I will die suddenly in a while.probably not.It is more likely that Ye Ruiyang complained that I have been buying water for almost 30 years.He managed to find an indoor court during the summer vacation and pulled everyone out of the air-conditioned room, and I was so slow to buy water.

[1] Feng Zhi, (1905-1993), formerly known as Feng Chengzhi, was born in Zhuozhou, Zhili Province, a modern poet and scholar. In 1923, he joined Lin Ruji's literary group Asakusa Society. In 1925, together with Yang Hui, Chen Xianghe, Chen Weimo, etc., he established Shenzhong Society, and published "Shenzhong" weekly, "Half Monthly" and "Shenzhong Series". In 1930, he studied in Germany and studied at the University of Berlin and Heidelberg University. In 1935, he received a doctorate in philosophy from Heidelberg University.Translated Rilke's poems. From 1936 to 1939, he taught at Tongji University.He used to be the director of the Institute of Foreign Literature of the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences.Lu Xun once praised him as the best lyric poet in China.He is the author of poetry collections "Songs of Yesterday", "Northern Journey and Others" and "Sonnet Collection", as well as academic achievements such as "Biography of Du Fu" and "On Goethe".

(End of this chapter)