The Complete Works of Xu Zhimo's Classical Prose

Chapter 10 Catching Duckweed on the Edge of Autumn Dream (9)
A grand bell flew down from the bell tower, and the empty mountain vibrated in the majesty of the sound waves.The sound of the bell stirred my thoughts.No, the word tide is too exaggerated; just talk about thinking.The Christians say Amen, and the Hindus say "Om". Like the buzzing of the bell, it is an infinite fluctuation from the opening of the mouth to the closing of the mouth; it is clearly expanding, but it is also hidden ; everything is at its periphery and yet at its center: skin and core at the same time, axis and outline at the same time.This great and mysterious "om" makes people feel movement and stillness; see movement from stillness, and see stillness from movement.From abiding to flying, and from flying back to abiding; from the realm of reality, transcending into the wonderful space, and from the wonderful space to become reality:
"Hearing the Buddha's soft voice, it is profound and subtle."

What a strange power!What a revelation!Inclusive of all conflicting phenomena, expanding the field of vision for a moment, this simple sound is a kind of spiritual purification for me.Blooming and falling flowers, meteors in the sky and fireflies in the fields, green pines in the sky above, rocks in the sea below, love between men and women, the light of jewels, the molten liquid of volcanoes: just like a baby in its cradle sleep well.

The bells on this mountain are ringing day and night, with an average of 5 minutes. The monk who rings the bell lives alone in the bell tower. It is said that he has been ringing the bell without interruption for 11 years. His wish is to beat him until he can’t move. That day.The Bodhisattva is enshrined in the bell tower, and the bell ringer puts his "seat" on one side of the big bell. He sits and calms his mind every night, holding one end of the bell with one hand. From a long-term habit, sleep will not be delayed. his job. "This monk," I thought to myself, "must have a reason! Monks are much more unreasonable: just now, the Zhike monk wanted to fill the seven orifices with six senses, but after all, he had an extra nostril or ear hole; the speech of the abbot master There are many embellishments of a certain governor and a certain governor; the monk in charge of Banshan Pavilion is the embodiment of greed and hatred, and broke two innocent tea bowls for no reason. But the bell-beating monk, he must not be mediocre. Look!" He is about fifty years old, and has been a monk for more than twenty years. This clock tower, yes, he is in charge of this clock tower, and he is the one who strikes this clock (he went over and bumped it). Every night, he It's not bad, it's to sit and calm the mind, but other than that, poor thing, I can't see anything unusual with my ordinary eyes.He wiped the shrine, the seat of worship, and the worship mat, replaced the incense candles, poured a bowl of water, washed a handful of vegetables, twisted a handful of rice, dried his hands and accepted the offerings from the pilgrims, and then turned around to ring the bell.There was no trace of heaviness in practice on his face, but he was not tired of insomnia, but he was full of smiles from time to time; what sutras he recited, but Amitabha, he might not know how to read. "What is that mountain in that area, and what is it called, monk?" "This is Tianmu Mountain," he said, "I know, I mean that area," I asked, pointing my hand. "I don't know," he replied.

There is another monk on the mountain. He lives in the former site of Prince Zhaoming's reading table in Genghang.But it's not like the real huts on Pudu Mountain. The scary-looking monks sitting or leaning against each other are all ghost-like things with dove faces.They don't open their mouths much, you put whatever you like to donate in the basket or plate in front of them, they don't open their eyes, they don't make a sound, and what you give is gold bars or iron bars.People say it is even more strange, some haven't eaten for half a year, haven't moved their nests, but they still don't die, they just sit like this.They are probably not far from becoming Buddhas, just looking at their faces, they are no worse than rock flakes and mud, the same black thorns, dead and stiff. "A few of them," said the pilgrims, "have become living Buddhas. Our grandmothers have seen them sitting like this for 30 years!"

But the huts in Tianmu Mountain and the monks in the huts are not so romantic.The thatched hut is a house that can shelter from the wind and rain, and the monk is also a lively person, although he does not detract from the interest he gives us.He is a tall, dark-faced, slow-moving middle-aged man; he has been a monk for nearly ten years, and he sat in the Zen Guan three years ago, and now he comes to practice in this hut on the mountain; he was a businessman when he was a layman, and he had parents, brothers and sisters , and maybe his own wife; he never stated the reason why he became a monk in his middle age, he only said that "the secular karma is too heavy, it is better to become a monk and follow the Buddha", but from his calm voice and solemn demeanor, it can be felt that Not only has he been tortured in personnel affairs, but he is also a person who can distinguish between black and white ideologically.His mouth, his eyes, all reveal the traces of his inner self-restraint, the battle between the devil and the Buddha; it is credible to say that he is a confessor who let go of fire and killed people; it is also credible to say that he is a prodigal son who turned his back. .He is no more colorless than the people on the bell tower, and he is not showing twists and turns: he is clearly a prisoner who escaped from the world of sex.Three years of meditation, three years of thatched huts, have never been overwhelmed, never extinguished, the fire of his flesh. "The secular karma is too heavy, it is better to become a monk and follow the Buddha;" Doesn't the heart of repentance tremble in these words?I feel curious; how can I know what is going on in his mind when he sits in the middle of the night?

The Buddha said in the crowd that I am a Buddha. Hearing the sound of the Dharma, all doubts and regrets have been eliminated.

When I first heard what the Buddha said, I was shocked and suspicious, and I was disturbed by what the devil said.

But this may seem too esoteric.Those of us who have been baptized by the Western outlook on life tend to be too positive about being a human being, and our requirements for joining the WTO are too strong, and we are too unwilling to give in. We put our whole body and heart into the bed of life, and don't ask him to keep a little bit of it. Juicy to go back; until the end of the mountain, he will never admit defeat, retreat, and accept the banner; and even if he admits the expression of despair, he often makes decisions directly on the survival itself, and takes back his steps without coming or going halfway: Would rather commit suicide, the severance of the sweet and fragile life, and not come to become a monk, that is the denial of life.It is true that Westerners also became monks and nuns, such as Apera and Heloise, but in them there was a change in the emotional aspect. The original love for people was changed to the love of God. The activity is still unambiguous; in the East, this renunciation is to seek the elimination of emotions, to take refuge in Buddhism or Taoism, and the purpose is to liberate all traces of the self.Besides, the origin of the concept of renunciation or worldly birth is India, not China, and it followed Buddhism. Scholars have various philosophical and even physical explanations for why this kind of thought occurred in India, which is also very interesting.How can China tolerate this kind of thinking, and in fact there are no fewer monks and nuns today than before (a friend of mine recently almost became a junior monk)!This question is worthy of study, because it is clearly not just a question of the depth of knowledge or consciousness. Perhaps this situation has the possibility of very interesting explanations. I have little experience and don't know what our scholars think. I am willing to learn.

15 September

The original issue was "Morning Supplement" on September 1926, 9, included in "The Scale and Claw of Paris"

"Too thick to melt" (Singapore)
It's strange that there is a sound of copper pans when heavy raindrops hit plantains. "Red Heart Banana", what a beautiful word, it is so red.If it needs to be red, hot, and strong, it must be thick, too thick to melt, and it is interesting to be like a gum. "My heart is like a plantain's heart, red..." No! "Tightly rolled, my red plantain heart..." Not to mention.Don't make any more poems as soon as possible.Natural changes, as long as you have eyes, are wonderful poems anytime and anywhere.It's completely natural, and nothing can be done for nothing.Look at the torrential rain, the rushing momentum of thousands of raindrops, the mist, the exaggeration, look at this small square of grass under the torrential rain, whipping, acupuncture, kicking, poor grass, innocent... But Wait a minute, you said if the grasses could talk, they would cry out in pain and be wronged?It's hard to say that they love this kind of surprise, brute force, and too hasty, of course, but this is just like passion, who said that this fierce appearance is not love in disguise.Some people love this eagerness!
Besides, did Xiaocao'er suffer a loss by letting Jiyu's wolf-like Hu kiss for a while?Needless to say, they are really showing joy, the green is shining, the green is full of oil, and the green is shining.They are so happy!
Mmm, an obscene poem.The banana heart is red, and the green grass is oily.At the end of the day, it is naturally prostitution, and the expression of its never-ending desire to create and transform is not prostitution: prostitution, anything.Not to mention anything else, the mud grass room after the rain is the womb of thousands of small creatures, such as mosquitoes, beetles, long-legged insects, green springtails, small creatures that admire Guangming, and are the enemies of mankind.The nature of the tropics looks thicker, more rampant, and more obscene, and the stars at night look more exquisite, like half-open mouths that want to speak to you.

But it's desolate enough for this person to stay in the hostel and watch the rain.I don't know where to turn when I go to the street, I can't see a familiar face, I can't make any sense, the sky is getting dark, the ground is wet, where are you going?have to. "There is a lonely king..." A small voice sang from Lian Feng's voice. "Sit until Zaimei..." What's wrong!Are you humming the Beijing tune?When I think of being single, I turn to Westgate, and if I turn again, it should be Sister Li Feng, huh!Alright, from a superb poetic thinking to a corrupt drama!But Beijing opera is not necessarily corrupt, so why do you have to learn snobbery from modern people?Emperor Zhengde was in Meilong Town, and Lin Lianfeng was in Xingjiapo.He has Sister Feng, but I am ashamed that I don't.In front of Lian Feng's eyes was the beautiful figure of Sister Feng on the stage, dragging her scarf, holding a tray, and stepping on stilts. "Since toddler"...fuck you!But the boredom is real.After the rain, the sky darkened even faster, and the black shadows covered one scene after another, and the sparrows all went home.What are you doing?What can I do?This is called the taste of loneliness.This is called boredom.No wonder Tang Minghuang listened to the sound of rain on the plank road at the entrance of Xiegu and was sad. His conscience came to him, thinking about Yuhuan... I have betrayed Qing, I have betrayed Qing... Turning to the memory of the deserted tomb, oh, it's another play!I'm not a movie fan, so I hum left and right!go out.

Lian Feng jumped into a factory car, and without saying a word to the Malay who brought back the hat, he made a throwing gesture with his hands.The Malay fully understood, turned his head slightly, and the car drove away.Shops like burnt peach slices, streets like black sesame pancakes, cars like beasts, rickshaws like kowtow bugs, trees like tall people, and people like short trees.In the fast-moving car, Lian Feng was watching the blurry video like a fast mirror, and at the same time, the wind blowing directly on his head made his neatly combed side-parted hair go straight back, and a few of them stuck to his eyelids and licked and licked. Going up and down again is very uncomfortable.The wind is so cool, it works on the skin, in the pores, it feels like swimming in the gentlest water waves.The joy of being a fish.The airflow seems to be a little denser, and it looks heavy.A loose arm is pressing on your heart...there is indeed a smell of minced meat, too thick to dissolve.Quick, quick, the giant palm of the plantain, the flag head of the coconut tree, the white bulging eyes of the rubber tree, the hairy thighs of the palm tree, the safflower dysentery of the silk tree, the beggar of the fig tree, squat neck, bend arms... …Quick, quick, the flower sheds of the Malays, the lanterns of the Chinese, the milk bottles of the Westerners, the hats of Huizi, the black flowers all over their faces, they look like a cat simmering on the stove...

When the car suddenly stopped at the famous Zhushui Pond, Lian Feng's happy heart wheel seemed to spin faster than the wheels, and it was only this pause that brought him back from his fantasy.At this time, the travel difficulties were completely blown away by the wind.The wind also blew away the clouds in the sky, the big dog star opened his eyes and occupied the eastern half of the sky, the hunter only saw two legs, the pegasus only showed half of his body, and the Turus cow only raised a small tail.Hey, there is actually a Huxin Pavilion.Whose idea is this?The red-haired man has become more elegant, alas.Not bad, the twilight is not dead, the reflection of the jungle by the lake, the bright red lights among the trees, and the thin and narrow embankment bridge connecting the lake pavilion.There are faint ripples on the water surface, and a few scattered stars on the zenith.Not bad at all.But not halfway up the embankment bridge, he found a toothed handle in the pavilion. It turned out that this was for measuring the water meter, but this was not enough. Anyway, the outline is a lake pavilion, the autumn moon on the flat lake... Well, someone where!This time, what he saw was a pair of figures leaning against the pavilion. They were originally a paste, but he disturbed them as soon as he approached. "I apologize for disturbing Qingxing, but I am not just a wandering cloud, what am I doing?" Lian Feng silently recited his playful thoughts, looked roughly at the lake, turned and walked back. "Gou..." He got in the car and thought at first, but he remembered the cigarette, and was busy drawing fire on the tip of the wind. As it happened, it disappeared in his first dragon cigarette.

When Lian Feng went back to the hotel door, he seemed to have fallen into the trap of dizziness again.A burst of heat and a burst of annoyance pressed on his heart, which had been refreshed in the evening coolness.He was about to breathe a sigh of relief and go upstairs, when he suddenly felt a stream of light rush over from the table by the window on the right.A subtly sharp stimulation, a rich warning, a not unaesthetic bewilderment.Only when I walked into a new art shop on the dark and blind streets of Paris did I seem to feel a similar fear.A wild view of flamingo, a window view of Matis, or a face of Franz Marc.Or an old greengrocer by Mark Chagall.But what's the matter, there is no futuristic painting hanging by the window, what Lian Feng first felt was a ball of bright red, like a flame, followed by a piece of black, thick like black crystals, but also like whiskers of flowers Gentle; first-class honey again, golden rippling, chocolate again, the most delicious chocolate full of cream.These colors appear chaotic due to their concentration, but the recognition of lines and outlines in an instant envelops the vigorous waves of colors.Lian Feng took a deep breath. "A black woman, what's the matter!" But what a coquettish black woman, this dress is really amazing, the artistic wrist deified the natural material, good!The black sleepy hair is her hair, the red one is the flower arrangement on one temple, the honey color is her delicate hanging shoulders, and the chocolate is the bright color of the girl's skin. The admiration that stopped by the stairs unexpectedly flowed into a new rhyme.

"There is a small but indispensable embellishment missing, and she still wears a small gold ring on one wrist." Lian Feng went upstairs and entered the room, still turning this wonderful poem full of color and fragrance. Butter chocolate, Naisuer's old brand, two pennies a thick piece, put the copper into the rolling seam, one, two, then pull the iron ring, hello, a piece of Naisuer cream chocolate wrapped in red paper with gold letters.tasty!The earliest black painting was probably Meng Nei's "Olympia". Lian Feng, a scheming painter, lay on the bed and flipped through the history of modern painting in his head.A scheming and courageous painter, he not only dares to use black, but also dares to use black to set off black. Alas, isn't there a flower on the temple of the reclining Olympia?The bottom one is a bit like the Olympian manuscript, except that the white ones have turned black.But the first person to pay respect to the color of Zhu Guru’s flesh has to be given back to Gao Gen. By the way, it’s that smell, so strong that he can’t dispel it. He discovered the color and fragrance of Zhu Guru’s skin and flesh. From the "new life" of the twentieth century to the semi-civilized and barbaric climate, discover the authenticity of culture and open up a new sense of literature and art...

But what does that Zhu Gulu girl below do?What are you doing, idiot!She is a humanitarian, a boat of kindness, he is a special commissioner for disaster relief, and she is here to comfort the loneliness of travelers.It's a pity that I didn't see her eyebrows clearly, and I only felt thick, too thick to melt away.Who knows whether she has clear eyebrows or beautiful eyes.Beautiful features!Think backward!There is no such corrupt word in the Aesthetic's new dictionary.Regardless of her facial features, her posture is indeed touching, timid, and she is simply beautiful, her clothes are well cut, and her fluffy black hair is intriguing. "The beautiful flowers come out on a remote island!" Lian Feng closed his eyes and hummed again. ...

"Who?" The sound of the door startled him from the bed, the door slowly opened by itself, Lian Feng's eyes lit up, red!a flower!is her!Come in!How good this is!Calm down, fool, what are you afraid of?
Sure enough, she came in, red ones, honey ones, black ones, gold ones, chocolate ones, Naisuer, cream, all came in.You won't let me in?Zhu Gulu sang in a low voice with a smile, and closed the door behind his back.This time the eyebrows are clearly recognized.Delicate, beautiful, and beautiful; if it doesn't work, I really have to look up another dictionary, but "beautiful" always fits.In Lian Feng's mind, the two characters of "demon" and "yan" are hung.Miss Zhu Gulu didn't wait to be invited, she had already sat on the edge of Lian Feng's bed.You seem to be afraid of me, and I am not a tiger on the Malay Peninsula!The dense color and thick incense of the chocolate law envelops the half-heart-beating passengers.Too thick to melt!Sister Li Feng, Sister Li Feng, this is not the flower you wanted, come here yourself!A wrist with a golden ring was placed on his body, and Zi Jiang's small hand grabbed his hand.Lian Feng never knew that his own hands were so white. "Wait for your brother to come back"... Lian Feng felt that he had turned into a grass under the sudden rain, and he didn't know whether it was good or bad.The black shadow of the pancake on the pavilion in the middle of the lake.The creative desire of nature.Do not you love me?Zhu Gulu's voice is also crisp, quiet and charming.A frog jumped into the pond, slap!Is it time for the hunter to come out of the woods?Do not you love me?I know you love me, I knew it just now when you looked at me by the stairs, right?Purple ginger is hot on his face, help!It's almost hot on his lips.Poor child, it’s not too deserted to live alone. You see, this fat Dutch wife makes you cringe, aren’t you ashamed?Lian Feng saw that the Dutch wife was crushed by him, and he couldn't help feeling a little hot on his face.Let me be your wife, okay?The dark clouds of Zhu Guru have all come down. "There is a lonely king..." No way.Zhu Gulu, Gai Suwen, green-faced and long-toothed..."Aunt of the Ganmi Family", big mouth, high cheekbones, wolf howling laughter... whipping, acupuncture, kicking, bah, hell!O, smothered, no, waiter!

Lian Feng wanted to yell but couldn't, and felt sweaty all over his body.Wake up, wake up, it's amazing, how hard this heart is beating.The Dutch wife deserved to be robbed and turned into a tattered gourd.Lian Feng felt that his mouth was sticky, and he didn't know what it was purple ginger or Zhu Gulu.Too thick to melt.

January 17

Originally published in January 1928, "New Moon", Volume 1, Issue 1, included in "Roulette"

"Too Thick to Melt" Part [-] (Hong Kong)

(End of this chapter)