I am an outcast. Who are my parents, why they abandoned me, and what is my exact date of birth, I don't know anything about these. History is history that is recorded in writing.So the history of China starts from the Yin Ruins, and my history starts from the root of the southern wall of the Daming Palace ruins in the northern suburbs of Xi'an. Yin Ruins is the abandoned capital of Shang, and Xi'an is the abandoned capital of Tang Dynasty. I, and my birth mother, remember an abandoned capital, right? For a woman to be so infatuated with a man that she is willing to bear a child for him, the degree of love must be not shallow.However, in the end, I was left with such a waste that was always abandoned. The reason must be very unavoidable.

Is it a lingering romantic story? The adoptive parents said that it was winter, and my breath turned into frost. I was wrapped very warmly and did not cry. I lay in the swaddling clothes and rolled my eyes, completely unaware that my fate had been changed. The adoptive mother Zhou Qinglian got up to the base of the Daming Palace wall early in the morning to hang her throat. It was foggy, the air was damp and cold, and she couldn't see people clearly after a few steps.She cleared her throat and began to sing: "Ah————————————” Suddenly hearing a "ha" laugh, innocent and childish, I couldn't help being startled, and the word "court" was swallowed.When I looked down, I realized that there was a faint redness more than ten steps away.When I walked over, it was the little me who was grinning.

This is called fate, right? So my recorded history begins from that moment. Ms. Zhou still retains the assets I had back then: a set of cotton-padded jacket trousers embroidered with a hundred butterflies and flowers on the red silk face and snow white spun silk lining, a fur neck cloak covered with red satin embossed with gold thread, and two strings of yellow and fresh silk from the wrist to the crook of the arm. The deep-fried gold bracelets are second to none in quality, but what is rare is that they are exquisitely carved, uniform in thickness, and equal in weight, but they are all different in style, some are made of twisted silk, some are wrapped with branches, some are made of double dragons playing with beads, and some are made of clouds breaking the moon. There are also Xishangmei shoots, a total of eighteen, with extraordinary airs.

This makes my origin even more confusing. Ordinarily, a mother who owns eighteen gold bracelets must not be embarrassed, so why must she abandon me? Also, I was so generous that I even kept my living expenses, why did I refuse to leave a single word, at least, like the practice of abandoned babies, it would be good to leave a note stating my date of birth. So much so that today, when people ask me how old I am, I still answer "23" loudly, while thinking guiltyly, or is it 24? Ah, I almost forgot to mention that I was still wearing shoes at the time, and they were also embroidered with red silk. The texture and embroidery were impeccable, and they were by no means bought by ordinary people.The pattern is not the ordinary "five poisons" or "Fu Lu Shou", but colorful auspicious clouds holding a pair of swallows flying together. The swallows are made of purple, and the wings are like scissors, which is lifelike.The adoptive father nodded his head and sighed, "This girl's background is not simple. If she is rich, she is expensive. Could it be that 'in the old days, the swallow before Wang Xietang flew into the homes of ordinary people'?"

His adoptive father, Tang Zhonghua, was a lecturer in ancient literature at Northwest University, and his greatest hobby in his life was antique appreciation.But because my string of gold bracelets was freshly fried, it is impossible to judge the age, and such exquisite carvings, lecturer Tang said, even the ancient royal palace ornaments are rarely so exquisite, in a word, its value is difficult to estimate. Therefore, Lecturer Tang gave me a single name, the word "Yan", which sounds the same as "Yan", which implies the meaning of Wang Xietang's former Yan. My adoptive parents are very open-minded people. They never shy away from talking about the process of adopting me, and let me always remember their gifts to me.

Like reading the Bible, I repeat every day before three meals and one bed: thank my parents for giving me life and food.If it weren't for you, I would have died of cold and starvation. I will never forget your kindness.Amen! ——The last sentence was added quietly in my heart. Our relationship has always been more of a host than a family. Because I am familiar with my own history, I have become a person with a past too early, far more precocious than ordinary children of the same age. I'm usually very quiet, so quiet that it doesn't seem to exist; but when I have the opportunity to speak, I will speak very loudly, as if I am afraid that I will not have the opportunity to speak to me after the time limit.

I see all the joys and sorrows in life as opportunities. Or rather, a gift. Because if I'm not adopted, there's not even a chance to be sad. No, maybe on the contrary, it should be said that sorrow will last forever——when I still don't know what sorrow is. Therefore, sorrow is also an opportunity that life bestows on me. I looked up to my parents with the attitude of looking up to the gods. I firmly believed since I was a child that if there really was a Guanyin Bodhisattva, she would be like my mother. The mother is a standard beauty, born in a beautiful family, she is the most particular about dressing and dressing, and combines Chinese and Western, so that the past serves the present.While sprinkling the "Emaren" perfume presented by foreign friends, while raising the phoenix fairy commonly known as "henna flower" as Kou Dan every year.

Moreover, she is one of the few women in Xi'an who washes her hair every day. For fear of damaging her hair, she never uses a hair dryer to dry it. She puts it half wet on her shoulders and combs it while sitting in front of the mirror, with a smile on her lips. The eyebrows are merciful, the rhythm of the posture is in harmony with the rhythm, and there is infinite style. And her amorous feelings are all down to the ground—at this time, my father would always put down his pen, lean on the desk and look at it with a smile. Zhongmingyue clang" or something. I have great respect and love for my foster parents.

Being abandoned by his biological parents at birth is the greatest misfortune in the world, but being adopted by Lecturer Tang Zhonghua and Ms. Zhou Qinglian is the greatest misfortune among misfortunes. I have no complaints about life. It's just that there is always a little bit of fear, worrying that I won't do well enough and they will be kicked out again-although no one has given me such a hint. I have been very sensible since I was a child, and I know how to look at adults' eyebrows and eyes when talking. Because I know that crying will not bring love, so I seldom cry since I was a child.The first time I lost a tooth, I took it with a smile and said to my mother, "The tooth fell out."

And my homework is good, especially my composition, which is often used as a model essay by the study committee and written on the small blackboard at the back of the classroom with chalk for everyone to study; I am still in the third grade of primary school, and my name has appeared on the radio station many times In the list of winners of the summer composition competition for primary and middle school students. But none of these things made my parents love me more than my brother. Brother Tang Yu made a mistake, and his father would catch him and spank him, but after the spanking, his mother would touch his butt and shed tears, asking incessantly, "What do you want to eat?" So my brother, with tears, After being wronged by the boss, he sobbed and said that he wanted to eat mutton soup, gourd head, and big plate chicken.

Naturally, my mother never forgets to serve me a bowl when cooking those delicacies, but the taste is different, and it is a bonus of genuine products. I always think that my brother's bowl is better than mine. My parents never hit me, they reasoned with me like an adult. Once I accidentally broke my father’s very precious Jingdezhen blue and white porcelain vase produced during the Yongzheng period of the Qing Dynasty. My father’s eye circles were red with distress, but he still didn’t move a finger at me. He just locked himself in the study and sulked. Didn't even come out for lunch. But this only made my heart hurt more.Especially when I saw my mother kept looking at the study door worriedly, my stomach was filled with heavy stones.At noon that day, I ate scrambled eggs with leeks. After I worked hard to eat half a bowl of rice and got up to drink water, I suddenly lowered my head and spit out all the rice I just ate. At that time, my first thought was: it's broken, it's broken, I've caused trouble again.Immediately afterwards, I realized that if my brother vomited, my mother would love him very much, as if he was nervous like a baby.Feeling sad in my heart, I vomited more violently, and finally almost vomited bile. My mother was busy bringing me water to rinse my mouth. In the end, even my father was alarmed and came out looking for medicine for me everywhere. I apologized even more, looked at my father's face and said, "I'm sorry." Before I could say a word, tears flowed out, but I couldn't bear to cry out.My mother said: "What is the family sorry for? Hurry up, go to bed and lie down if you don't feel well, don't cry, what are you crying for? Get a good sleep, and when you get up, Mom will cook for you again. Just say what you want to eat. " So I enjoyed the treatment of my brother for the first time, but the taste turned out to be so uncomfortable.After that, I became more cautious, because I clearly knew that my brother and I were different after all, so I simply stopped coveting greedy mouths. Another sequelae of that incident is that I never want to eat leeks again, and I will feel sick when I smell leeks.Moreover, I began to pay attention to antique porcelain, bent on making up for the mistakes of my childhood. It was then that I became interested in second-hand goods. I bought a lot of materials and came back to eat them alive. I asked my father for advice on what I didn't understand. My interests became more and more extensive, and I was involved in ceramics, ancient coins and even gold, silver and jade wares.Among them, the most important thing is antique jewelry. I always remember what my father said back then: That string of eighteen carved gold bracelets may not have such exquisite things even in the ancient palace.After reading a lot of information, I gradually realized that the price of gold jewelry is not only determined by the gold itself, but also depends on the age and craftsmanship.In my country, gold bracelets as ornaments began in Tang and Song Dynasties and flourished in Ming and Qing Dynasties. Although gold is valuable and jade is priceless, a pair of exquisitely carved gold bracelets with double dragons in Song Dynasty is worth more than perfect ancient jade. I have seen many color pictures of ancient gold ornaments, filigree and chiseled jade, resplendent and resplendent, but they are only one and a half pieces. The complete set of gold ornaments in my hand has not been recorded in the collection catalogue.It's a pity that the age cannot be identified. If it was produced before the Ming and Qing Dynasties, it would not be an exaggeration to say that it is priceless. So there are many imaginations. I think my ancestor may be a Beizi or Princess, at least he is also a relative of the emperor and a famous family.I think the bracelet might be a token of love from my parents back then. They were separated for some reason, and they made an appointment to meet at the ruins of Daming Palace in a certain month of the year. They didn’t mean to abandon me, but just put me there for a while, and walked away temporarily. My adoptive mother mistakenly thought that no one would pay attention to me and picked me up by mistake.I think my biological mother who owns such a precious gold bracelet must be a romantic, noble-minded, non-human being. Maybe it was the Three Virgins who went down to earth, stole the forbidden fruit, and was hunted down by Erlang God, so she had to leave me. The gold bracelet is the lotus lantern. , is the talisman of my life... Making up stories for myself has become my specialty.In the endless imagination, I grew up year by year, and my appreciation and taste of antiques are getting higher and higher. My father is very happy that I have similar interests with him, and he also pays great attention to cultivating my wisdom root. He is really tireless in teaching.Naturally, the guests would inevitably say some compliments such as "a tiger father has no dog daughter", "family history", and even "genetic factors". At this time, my father always laughed and didn't answer. And I couldn't help but add new, more specific and perhaps even more absurd content to my fantasy. I imagined that I was my father's own daughter.Otherwise, how could we, father and daughter, be so congenial, even having the same aspirations and tastes? So I got carried away for a while, and even learned to make my little temper act like a baby, and whenever I got a chance, I would pester my father to take me to the "ghost market" in Xiaodongmen to pan for gold. Mostly around the New Year's Eve, the sky is freezing cold, but I don't feel cold, because that moment is the closest to my father.The excitement of rushing on the road is subtle and secret, and because you don't know what you will encounter, it is extraordinarily strange and pleasant. The sky has just dawned, dust and mist are intertwined, everything is hazy and illusory, but a little bit of red lanterns in Chaoyangmen can be vaguely seen, one cluster is lit up in the middle and the other in the dark, and the scarlet lanterns are seen from a distance. A little, approached but still feel far away.The people and things under the lamp are also blurred, vaguely busy, buyers and sellers keep their voices low, chirping as if pouring out secrets. But the goods are good ones. A snuff bottle painted on the inside of glass in the late Qing Dynasty, and an old fan whose silk surface has been damaged but the painting is still fresh, are likely to be hundreds of years old. I picked it up on hand, and I met you here by fate. The most rare thing is the low price.Many years later, I saw a seller of sachets on Liulichang East Street in Beijing, with gold thread and silver buckles, which were obviously old-fashioned on purpose, and they even charged 800 yuan.But here is really an authentic ancient product, but it only costs you 80, and there is still room for bargaining. I felt dazzled, wanted to own it, and was afraid of being fooled. I had to discuss it with my father whether to buy it or not. In a blink of an eye, he saw a golden phoenix hairpin with silk, and hurriedly grabbed it in his hand to play with it repeatedly, and asked his father: "Is this the golden phoenix in 'Miss cowardly don't ask about the golden phoenix'?" The father smiled and said, "It looks like the same bracelet as yours." As if someone had slapped me, I froze for a moment. It turned out that my father remembered that I was not his biological daughter, no. For a long time, when our father and daughter were immersed in the antique flavor of pottery pots and jade cups, I had deliberately and extravagantly forgotten many things. But now I know that at all times, my father remembers my origins, my gold bracelet, what he picked up from the Daming Palace, and his eternal gift to me. He remembered, and I certainly shouldn't forget it myself.Even if you want to forget. My heart suddenly became empty. Suddenly someone yelled something, and there was a "wow", the crowd dispersed as soon as they said it, and the peddler snatched the hairpin from my hand and ran away. I staggered suddenly, and my father hurriedly grabbed me. Risky didn't hit it. In a blink of an eye, the crowd had dispersed without a single shadow left, and the lanterns had all been extinguished, making one suspect that everything just now was a dream. But the bloodstains on my hands scratched by gold hairpins are real, the alleys crowded under the city wall are real, and the hands on my shoulders protecting my father are also real. It seems that there are only us father and daughter left in the world, so close and familiar, but we are irrelevant after all. I looked at my father with an inexplicable pain in my heart. I have nothing to do with him, after all. After that, I never dared to imagine that I was my father's biological daughter, and I never went to Xiaodongmen again. Later, I learned that the business in Xiaodongmen's "ghost market" is actually illegal, and most of the goods come from irregular sources. They are either cultural relics that are not allowed to be sold by the state, or stolen goods that are "shun" by thieves. Will sell at a low price. People call it "ghost market", because it only opens at dawn, and it disperses as soon as the sun rises, so it is also called "dew market". But I thought, this "ghost" is not necessarily the "ghost" of "Lonely Ghost", but the "ghost" of "Guigui Chongchong", right? The truth turned out to be so ugly and vulgar, and I was even more melancholy. At night, I heard the bell ringing in my dream, and I suddenly thought of a poem: "Hanshan Temple outside Gusu City, the bell rings to the passenger ship at midnight." Suddenly feel so lonely, tears can't help but come out of my eyes... Such unhappiness is still growing up day by day. So I know that growth has nothing to do with happiness. I am more silent and sensible, and more lonely.In addition to respect and alienation, I still don't know how to deal with others. In the Chinese class, the teacher asked us to use "inseparable" to make sentences, and each student said the name of his best friend, "Xiaoli and I are inseparable", "Zhang Qiang and I are inseparable"... Not to be outdone, I also said: "Qin Yue is my good friend. We go to school together and go home together every day. We talk about everything and are inseparable." The teacher gave me a "tick" and said that I used the words accurately and described the image.But then she asked me: "Who is Qin Yue?" "It's my best friend." I replied innocently, without hesitation. So the students all know that I have a good friend named Qin Yue. No one knows that "Qin Yue" actually doesn't exist, it's just a name, without a specific image, and without identity or age.It is engraved on the bricks of the city wall, one finger thick and thin, intermittent, and there is a feeling of being hard-pressed and unforgettable. The first time I found it was on an autumn afternoon. The slightly yellowed sycamore leaves covering the base of the city wall, the rose petals that have fallen all over the ground but are still fragrant, and the cool wind with rain, I always remember clearly that it was an autumn afternoon .Always, never forget. But I don't remember why I hid on the city wall and wept. An adopted daughter has no right to cry at home, so the grievances that have been endured for a long time can only be delivered to the silent ancient city wall.As soon as I stepped on the thick bricks of the city wall, the mundane world of personnel and affairs under the city immediately faded away and faded away, so I became an ancient person and no longer worry about today's trivial matters. I danced grids on the square bricks and chased my shadow lightly and lively, just like a thirteen-year-old girl should do.Tired, I sat on the top of the city and closed my eyes to smell the cool wind with the smell of green grass after the rain. The rain has already stopped, and the clouds in the sky are very shallow and faint, floating with the wind, making the sky look so clear and round.My heart stretched into a gentle cloud under the blue sky, and my thoughts drifted away with the breeze, to the blue sky. I don't know how many times I was jumping and stopping, I found that name - the name that was deeply engraved on the city bricks with some kind of sharp weapon - Qin Yue. Suddenly, my heart seemed to be hit by something. I couldn't help kneeling beside the name, and used my index finger to trace its strokes over and over again. Every time I wrote it, I felt closer to the name. Qin Yue, Qin Yue, Qin Yue...is this a person's name?Is it a man or a woman?Is it old or young?What does he do?Why would you leave your name here?Is it a lonely and helpless child like me? I said to him, "Don't be afraid, I will be with you. I will visit you often." I sat on the bricks and began to tell him my story, about the origin of the Daming Palace, eighteen gold bracelets, my father and his collection of antiques, my mother's beautiful hair and singing voice, and my homework and communication at school ... By the time I walked down the city wall, "Qin Yue" had become the first bosom friend in my life. From then on, when you are sad again, you will have a good place to comfort yourself.Often lingering in the city until the skirts are wet, it feels like waiting for a close friend who has been waiting for a long time. There is a kind of secret joy and a touch of desolation. My father said that the city wall of Xi'an is the most complete preserved city wall of ancient Chinese city walls, and it is also the largest and most complete ancient military castle facility in the world.Its wall is 12 meters high, 18 meters wide at the bottom, and 15 meters wide at the top. There were four original city gates, named Changle Gate in the east, Anding Gate in the west, Yongning Gate in the south, and Anyuan Gate in the north.Each gate is built with three layers of towers. The tower is inside, the archery tower is in the middle, and the gate tower is outside. . The city wall of Xi'an is the reassurance of ordinary people and the parents of wealthy families.The ancients liked to use "solid as gold" to describe solidity, and these four words are most appropriate for the city walls of Xi'an. I don't know how many sandstorms, famines, and wars have occurred in history, but natural disasters and man-made disasters all stop at the city wall. Its construction can be traced back to the Han Dynasty, from Han Xiu to Tang, from Tang Xiu to Ming, and it has been renovated and repaired again and again until today.Building this city wall did not know how many mules and horses died of exhaustion, and how many people's efforts were spent.As for the stone carvings, it may be the name of the builder or brick builder. The people of history are gone, but the city of history is still there.So those who built the city were immortal because of this city brick. It's not just history, it's belief.The common people are willing to protect him, carry him on their backs, enjoy him and rely on him with peace of mind.And I trust him unreservedly and adore him. I like to walk slowly up the city at dusk in the rain, look around the vastness, the world is chaotic, no ancients are seen before, no one is seen behind, and weep alone when I think about the long distance between the world and the earth; or find a moonlit night and lightly pick up the skirt He walked up the steps and sang softly a song with sound but no words. This habit has been maintained until I went to college. I was admitted to the Journalism Department of Peking University.My parents held a grand celebration banquet for me and asked me to say goodbye to my relatives and friends one by one.But what I hate most in my heart is the ancient city wall. For the first time, I shed tears in the city not because of grievances. After living under the fence for nearly 20 years, I finally had the opportunity to fly away from that roof. I only felt that the sea and the sky were open and I could breathe freely.Although it was the first time he left his hometown, he had no intention of going, and he seemed to be returning home like an arrow. The whole world is like a home, no home everywhere. In fact, where does it count as "going", and where does it count as "returning"? On the day I left, my parents ordered my brother to see me off.The crowded station was full of tearful lovers, while my brother and I just smiled. Brother said: "Write a letter back." I said: "Definitely." My brother said again: "Don't forget us." I replied: "No." No more conversations. From childhood to adulthood, Tang Yu and I have always had nothing to say, never quarreled with him, and never tried to act like a baby to him.The two brothers and sisters respect each other as guests, amiable but not friendly. But after all, he was the only one who came to see me off. After all, he had to bid farewell to the ancient city walls I was used to seeing since I was a child.The moment the train moved, tears still flowed down my face. Not why, maybe just because it's at the station.Just like people fall in love in spring and sigh at the rainy weather, sometimes emotions are just a conditioned reflex. There was a little dust on the car window, and I scratched the word "Qin Yue" on it with my finger. I copied it so many times that I was almost familiar with it. I looked at the name and said softly: "I will come back to see you, wait for me."