Chapter 11 Living Wells: 1-5

Whenever I write a letter, Xiao Xing often deliberately sings loudly in front of me: "Of ten men, seven are stupid, eight are stupid, nine are bad, and there is one that everyone loves. Sisters, jump out, even if Deceive him with sweet words, love him well, and never let him leave." Tingsheng: After reading your letter, I feel very sad.My tears blur your handwriting. I think of our grandparents, our fathers, and the tragedies they went through.Regardless of their origin and status, they have not obtained the minimum happiness in their lives. The two grandfathers used their lives to endure the man-made misfortune that China has suffered for half a century.They are two of thousands of ants, from the earth, and to the earth.

They all belong to "abnormal death".Their life trajectory suddenly came to an end like a rest.In many cases, death is brutal, and the god of death will not ask for your consent, and you can't dodge it even if you want to. It roughly interrupts your life.Its appearance makes everyone deeply realize the fragility and helplessness of life. In fact, whether it is my grandfather who committed suicide or your grandfather who died of illness, they did not leave this world willingly or contentedly.Their departure does not mean that they no longer love this cruel world. You compared my grandfather's death to Wang Guowei in your letter, but I think the death of Lao She is more similar to it.They are all simple intellectuals, and they all chose the same way to die in a similar time period - throwing themselves into the lake.I think there is no doubt that they had similar spiritual struggles and final decisions.

Scholar Huang Ziping once discussed why a literati like Lao She chose to commit suicide in his article "Eternal Difficulty and Only Death".He collected many people's explanations and explanations of Lao She's suicide behavior after the "Cultural Revolution", and he went deep layer by layer until he reached the "unbearable weight in life". "To live or to die" is really an eternal problem that Hamlet and all of us cannot avoid. The first reason for choosing to die is: soldiers can be killed but not humiliated. Wang Zengqi has a short story "August Sun", which observes and thinks about Lao She's death from the perspective of some bystanders.One sees, "the man is sitting on a chair, looking at the lake".Finally, he disappeared from this world.

After Lao She died, several old Beijingers chatted together. Zhang Baishun asked: "What kind of title does the chairman of the city's Federation of Literary and Art Circles have?" "To be in the former Qing Dynasty, this is quite a bachelor of the Imperial Academy." "Then why do you want to go this way? Endure a stomachache for a while! Although this autumn tiger is poisonous, doesn't it have a cool time?" Gu Zhi'an looked around and sighed deeply: "Scholars can be killed, but not humiliated." Wang Lifa said: "Those dogs and men are living a happy life, but I am not allowed to eat corn bread, who came up with the idea?"

This is the understanding of a group of ordinary people. It seems to be far-fetched, but it is actually to the point. Yes, no matter how poisonous the red sun is, there is a time when it will set.But some stigma is unbearable.And death is the only means of resistance for the Disgraced. Secondly, what makes these people who are determined to die feel incomprehensible is: why spoil Chinese culture? When grandpa's butterfly specimens were destroyed and more intellectuals' books were burned, their lives also came to an end.In this context: Immortal, what are you waiting for? Su Shuyang wrote an article "The Death of Lao She", which raised a series of questions: Why did Lao She choose Taiping Lake?He must have thought it over carefully -- where exactly was the right place to die?Did his choice stem from the strong feelings of family blood and nostalgia for his homeland?

Lao She wrote in his novel that after the protagonist Qi Tianyou was slapped by the Japanese soldiers, "Now that he has been beaten, he is nothing but a standing piece of flesh." Unexpectedly, in the end the writer himself personally experience such humiliation. Therefore, like Qi Tianyou, he couldn't wait, couldn't live on. He was born to die. Third, as future generations, we can continue to ask: Is there a reason for death? Chen Cun wrote an article titled "Death", which talked about the death of Fu Lei.He wrote: "In the turbulent years, we talked about you, about your death and many deaths, about us who lived and our unbearable life." Fu Lei lived in the tranquility of the East and the romantic passion of the West , living a melancholy, restless, tender and straightforward life.From his criss-crossed hand lines, we recognize the difficult childhood, the sweet love, the diligence and righteousness, the depression and resentment, and even the unsophisticated and clean-minded. He "is not disdainful, but cannot".

We can never restore the state of mind of our predecessors.However, one day we will realize that the reasons why our predecessors made choices will also be our reasons. Fourth, let us take comfort in this: they did not die. De Pruss said: "Survival is a special experience, and the value of survival has gone far beyond the survivor's personal experience." Then, resistance is also a special experience and a special value. The short moment of the struggle activated the memory of history; the short moment of the struggle shone with the light of humanity. Recently, Chen Tushou wrote a book called "Heaven Knows Whether People Are Sick", and the subtitle is "Documentary of Chinese Literary World After 1949".Among them, there is a special chapter "Lao She: How Many Times the Flowers Bloom and Fall", which provides a perspective of Lao She's living conditions and mental state in his later years.This documentary text is written in cadence, with one chants and three sighs.

With Lao She's sensitivity and wisdom, he has long anticipated the coming of bad luck.Veteran writer Lin Jinlan once revealed that on the eve of the "Cultural Revolution", Lao She told people in the Federation of Literary and Art Circles several times that I would retire after the age of seventy and stay behind closed doors.Don't mess with me.Lao She also often mentioned that when he was young, someone advised him not to do literature, and he would not end well if he did.He said it half jokingly and half regretfully, regretting not listening to it. Chen Tuoshou wrote at the end of the article: "The following stories are unfolded in sequence, but the tragic experiences of the playwright, director, and actors are used to interpret the changes in Chinese society. Ruthless. Lao She gave a speechless explanation of his sinking lake, reluctantly leaving the inextricable knots of thought to future generations."

Therefore, when the "Cultural Revolution" ended, the crew seemed to have re-read Lao She and understood Lao She. But they said in panic: they can't understand everything. Yes, the death of Lao She must not be blamed only on those dozens of Red Guards who beat people with their belts! The Japanese writer Kai Gaojian wrote a novel titled "The Death of Lao She".Literary critic Liu Zaifu said with emotion: "Yu Sui, this image has been rolling in my chest for 30 years. The outstanding figures of my homeland died tragically one by one, not in war, but in another kind of violence without gunpowder smoke. Violence and violence of language. . . . The fragments of jade exploded. The fragments pierced my heart and lungs. I have been in pain for a long time, and I am still in pain."

Yu Sui, what an understatement and what a thrilling image--Yu Sui, is the disappearance of kind lives one by one, and there is no way to recover them. For the grandfathers, for Lao She and Fu Lei, death is not the end of their lives. All their efforts for ideals and goodness will surely plow into good fields in the dry land of the hearts of future generations and leave beautiful things for us future generations. footprints. Where they failed is where our victory begins. These days, I have been wondering: If we met their fate, could we do as well as them, or even better than them?Are we overwhelmed and defeated by bad luck, or are we always facing the blow with our heads held high and facing the bad luck with a smile?

When I was in Tibet, an eminent monk once told me about the "Book of Life and Death" in Tibetan Buddhism.This mysterious classic records what Tibetans learned about life and death many centuries ago.It describes in detail the rites of death and narrates the different stages of the soul after the death of the body.When a person dies, he abandons his physical body and replaces it with a luminous body.He can see the mourning of relatives and friends, his own funeral, and his soul, or meet a "light" that gives him peace and contentment.In the end, he will be judged according to what he did in his lifetime. Our grandpas didn't do bad things, they worked hard all their lives, and they will all go to heaven.In this life, they toiled day and night, but did not get the slightest return.However, for every minute of hard work, there is bound to be a reward for everything.Their souls and bodies are suffering in pain, but it is precisely because of this painful suffering that they finally get the favor of God. The Bible says: The laboring farmer deserved the food first. ("Timothy 2:6") In this life, they did not get the food they deserved; in the next life, they will enjoy a gorgeous and abundant life. We are each other's comfort and confidence.I am too confused to write you a complete letter.I am writing here temporarily today. love you Ning Xuan December 30, 1999 Ning Xuan: Your letter reminds me of Lozanov again.After the death of his wife who had been with him for many years, Lozanov discovered that his whole world was supported by his wife. Once his wife left, everything collapsed—including everything in literature, art, houses and money. He wanted to say "I love you" to his wife again, but she never heard it. At this moment, even if a stone can be turned into gold, what happiness is there? Lozanov wrote regretfully: "I did not save my wife from the disease. But I can do it. I just need to be more concerned about her, less interested in coins, money, and literature. This is my only and all pain. I have guarded her. I have not been able to keep her. This is my pain. Life calls for accurate eyes and strong hands. Life is not tears, not sighs, but struggles, terrible The struggle. Tears—stay at home, swallowed in the stomach. Appearance—is iron. Only a house covered with iron is strong and solid. I have too little iron on me, and it is because of this that my wife will It was so hard. She was pulling a big cart by herself, panting and struggling. She was struggling for me. Now the cart puller has fallen. And all I can do is cry. "Love has weight and Colored, heavy as iron, deep as iron.In struggle, love can show its weight and color. Why don't people wake up earlier before mourning and crying? Why don't people love their lover earlier before losing him? I think of the fate of grandmas.They have been widowed for half a century, their youth has turned into old age, and their beauty has turned into white hair. Who knows the pain involved?Even their children, how much can they experience?Not to mention our grandchildren who have been with them for more than half a century. Who knows how deep is the iceberg under the sea? Who knows how wide the root system under the old tree is? When love is given, it may not be repaid, and sometimes it backfires.However, such an outcome does not stop humans from loving.Under the heavy blow of fate and the chronic torment of time, the love of grandmas is somewhat distorted and deformed, but it is still love, a great love, and a love that requires us to understand and empathize. Ning Xuan, you once quoted a sonnet by Feng Zhi in your letter, it is a good poem.In the past, I have said a lot of bad things about poets to you, but I really admire the poets of Southwest Associated University, including Feng Zhi.In the 1940s, they wrote real poetry in the midst of gunfire, hunger and cold.They face death all the time, which highlights the purest sincerity. The campus poems of Southwest Associated University are not only about the romance on the campus, but also about the thick and dignified sculptural sense of Chinese history and reality.Their land is suffering earthquake-like disasters, and their hearts are waging a harsh self-struggle. Between running the alarm and making tea, they sang about freedom, the land and the people firmly and confidently. They unabashedly tortured their souls full of contradictions. They created a fulcrum for the integration of modern Chinese poetics and the earth. Yuan Kejia is an excellent poet among them. I wonder if your grandfather had any contact with him?His song "Shen Zhong" is nothing more than a portrait of the fate of grandparents and the fate of most Chinese people.I copy it for you: Let me be silent in time and space, Like the rusty green bell of an ancient temple, Carrying three thousand heavy loads, Listen to the rush of wind and rain outside the window; Throw waves to the sea, Return the infinity to the heavens, I am still the silent Hong Zhong, Silent as a blue freeze; Life is free from pain, Pain baked by death, I am the rusty green bell, Contain the wild winds from all directions! Dear Ning Xuan, we have the same courage to face bad luck, and we will do better than our ancestors and fathers. With love, suffering becomes insignificant. With love, the spine of a person can be straightened. I believe that love is the slayer of evil.We have more love than our elders, and we have more courage than them. I thought of Tagore's words: "If I had the sky and all the stars in it, and the world and its infinite wealth, I would ask for more; however, as long as she is mine, give me the smallest thing on earth." A corner, and I am content." I believe that love is the only inexhaustible one of all the wealth in the world. I have a little corner in Daoxiangyuan.Although there is no real Daoxiang in Daoxiang Garden, even though this corner of mine is only temporarily rented, as long as you come, this is my paradise. love you tingsheng January 4, 2000 Tingsheng: How many Lozanovs are there in the world?How much irreparable regret and pain is there in the world? Because, Duras says, she can only understand a story if she feels pain. "What if there was no pain?" "Then all will be forgotten." We don't want to forget.Too much forgetting and we become idiots. So, let me continue to tell you the story of my grandparents.Grandpa's suicide, this tragedy is only half staged.For grandpa, the gate of heaven has been opened; for grandma, the life of suffering has just begun.Grandpa is gone, grandma is staying.A woman's life is really tougher than a man's. For them, it seems that there is no unbearable pain. I was brought up by my grandmother, and I didn't have much contact with my grandmother since I was a child.In my childhood memory, my grandma was an unkind, neurotic old woman.I didn't know that there were so many bloody and tearful pasts in her heart, and I didn't know that her world fell into boundless darkness after losing her grandpa. I only knew that she treated me and my mother badly.She is jealous of us because Daddy loves us.She thinks we took her son.Grandma treats others harshly and indifferently, and the neighbors don't want to associate with her.Grandma doesn't love anyone but Dad.However, even if she is the only son she loves, she always makes excessive demands on him that my mother and I consider excessive, and uses those excessive demands to "test" his son's filial piety. In the year that Grandpa committed suicide, Grandma broke her right leg. One day, grandma went to the lake to wash clothes.That was Cuihu where Grandpa committed suicide.In order to save tap water, the surrounding residents usually go to the lake to wash clothes.This is also the habit of grandma. That day, grandma who was in a daze was washing clothes while thinking about grandpa.She seemed to see Grandpa's body swollen by water again.Suddenly, Grandpa came alive, came out of the water, and spoke to her kindly.She threw herself on Grandpa with forgetfulness. The stone slabs by the lake are covered with moss and smooth.Grandma raised her head, didn't pay attention to the ground, and fell heavily to the ground accidentally.That fall was very heavy, and she struggled for a long time without getting up until someone with good intentions carried her to the hospital. This time, grandma fell and suffered a serious fracture.At that time, most hospitals were paralyzed, and few doctors could concentrate on treating patients.Moreover, how can a wife like grandma who is a "secret agent who has cut herself off from the party and the people" enjoy the medical treatment she deserves? The doctor randomly put some plaster on grandma and drove her home.After returning home, grandma's legs have been in pain.As a result, the fracture did not heal well and was completely misshapen. Grandma's legs have been lame ever since.A crippled woman, a pariah of society, impossible to find love and marriage again.Only the grandma in her forties, shed tears and devoted herself to bringing up her father. Huge financial pressure and boundless loneliness tortured her nerves every day. Grandma treats dad harshly, and this kind of harshness can also be understood as the ultimate love - dad makes a little chewing sound when eating, and grandma will also be reprimanded or even slapped in the face.Grandma studied each of Dad's report cards word by word.As long as one of the homework scores is not the first, Dad will be ordered to kneel on the washboard. I can't imagine what kind of childhood Dad had under the strict discipline of grandma.For his mother, is he more loving or afraid? Later, my father was admitted to university and left my grandmother to live a collective life.The withdrawn father has been unable to blend in with his classmates for a long time.His emotional world is incomplete, hurt and distorted.This kind of injury and distortion obviously does not only come from grandma.It wasn't until he met his mother that his father gradually became cheerful. Leaving my father to live alone, my grandma fell into fear and loneliness.By the time Dad graduated from college, Grandma was half-crazed—she was often defiant and talking to herself.She suspects that there are bad guys hidden around her, and she keeps strangers from approaching her. Grandma often declares among the neighbors: Grandpa is not dead yet, grandpa just went out to collect butterfly specimens, and grandpa will come back soon with a large bag of colorful specimens.The neighbors were all frightened and did not dare to have more contact with her. As a result, grandma became more closed and lonely.She involuntarily entered a vicious circle that she could not change. After her father got married, grandma didn't want to live with her parents. She thought that her mother had snatched her father away from her.She insists on living alone, and she lives in the boundless imagination of the past.She talked to herself at home, looking through the few remaining butterfly specimens in the drawer every day.She stuck the butterfly specimen in her heart, it seems that the specimen still has the body temperature of grandpa, it seems that the soul of grandpa is fixed on the specimen. This is an image that was fixed in my childhood: grandma stayed alone in a dark room, her gray hair was blowing in the wind, her face was pale, wrinkled, ugly and fierce. Later, I saw photos of my grandma when she was young in an album, and I couldn't believe that the beautiful bride in the photo was the weird old lady in front of me.At that time, grandma was wearing a well-fitting cheongsam, smiling gently, and her eyes were like a pool of autumn water.The grandma in the photo really looks like Lin Huiyin. Later, my father told me that my grandma had studied in the women's normal school established by the Church of England, and she could speak fluent English. She was a stunning school flower at that time. In the early days of the Anti-Japanese War, in a speech contest for female students across the province, grandma gave a speech on stage. Her eloquence shocked everyone, and her demeanor caught the audience's eyes.That year, she was only eighteen years old, wearing a white cheongsam.Without powder, it looks like a lotus flower that has just opened. At that time, the son of a senior official of the Executive Yuan of the National Government fell in love with the young and beautiful grandma, and launched an intensive offensive against her. However, grandma didn't like this kind of romantic and suave son, so she chose the grandfather with the patch on the blue coat. There is a huge gap between the grandma that my father described and the grandma in my impression.Where did this break occur? Maybe it happened the day Grandpa threw himself into the lake. On that day, grandma's life was also shattered.I seem to hear a sound like breaking glass coming from inside her body. Both beauty and kindness are as fragile as glass. I can't help but wonder, when grandma gave a speech on the stage and stole the limelight, did she foresee the miserable second half of her life? At that time, her speech was straight and round, like big pearls and small pearls falling on a jade plate.Her face was rosy, and her jet-black bangs glistened in the sun. Grandma didn't have the possibility to choose the era she lived in, and neither do we. Grandma has no chance of toppling the mountain on her head, and neither do we. However, we can all stand upright in the midst of unavoidable misfortune, and we can all hold our heads high in the midst of oppression as heavy as a mountain. Grandma did this, and paid a terrible price.What about us? In the early 1980s, Grandpa finally "rehabilitated".For the grandfather who has been tirelessly studying butterflies in another world, this belated redress is meaningless.However, after all, the government reissued tens of thousands of yuan in pensions to the family members. Can money buy back a person's life?Can money recreate a happy family? Obviously not. This amount of money may not seem like much today, but in the early 1980s, when households were generally materially deprived, it was a huge sum of money.However, instead of bringing happiness to our family, this money has brought us more pain and hurt. The arrival of this money made the grandmother, who was already a little mentally abnormal, fall into extreme panic and anxiety again.She sewed several thick stacks of money on her body densely with needles and threads.She had to stay with the money day and night.From then on, she was even less likely to go out and walk around, sitting on the bed and muttering to herself all day long.Is she talking to her grandpa in the sky?No one knows. Grandma doesn't trust anyone.In her eyes, almost everyone wants to embezzle her money, including her relatives.From morning to night she talked about keeping her money safe.After her grandfather passed away, she finally found the life goal that she had lost once again—this money is her grandfather's life, and she must keep it safe.She kept them so that when she went to heaven, she would be able to meet her grandfather without guilt. During the holidays, my father usually takes my brother and me to visit grandma.That's the one thing I'm most afraid of.As soon as I saw grandma and saw her cold and sharp eyes, I immediately ran to the corner to hide.And grandma wouldn't say any caressing words to me, wouldn't smile at me, and wouldn't ask me about my academic performance.In her eyes, I almost didn't exist.Grandma is so different from grandma--I am grandma's sweetheart, how much love grandma has given me.My childhood was spent in the arms of my grandmother.And grandma, I don't have any fond memories of her. Grandma carried a smooth cane with her everywhere, and held it tightly in her hand even when she was sleeping. Once, grandma was taking a nap, and my brother and I were playing hide and seek.The younger brother hid under grandma's bed.I was about to probe under the bed to look for it when my grandma woke up with a start. She sat up from the bed, vaguely touched the crutches, and was about to hit her head and face. She thought a thief was coming to steal her money.The thief stole her husband and wanted to steal her money. She must fight him! Her white hair fluttered in the wind, like a ghost crawling out of hell.Her rapid breathing was like that of an enraged monster. I quickly shouted: "Grandma, I am Ning Xuan!" Grandma just opened her eyes and gave my brother and me a vicious look, and lay down to sleep again without saying a word. From then on, my brother and I never dared to approach grandma again. At that time, when I was young, I was full of disgust for grandma.We have mentioned the story of the "miser" Grandet in our text, and I regard grandma as a person similar to Grandet.I don't even want to call her "Grandma". Grandma spent her last days at our house.When she was dying, she was chanting her grandfather's name, but she didn't know whether it was love or resentment.Her eyes scanned the butterfly specimens beside the pillow, but she didn't know whether it was love or resentment. When grandma died, dad cried and cried.But my brother and I couldn't shed a single tear.At that time, we couldn't understand Dad's feelings for grandma. Dad insisted on going his own way and used all the tens of thousands of yuan in pensions for grandma's funeral.Dad firmly said: "This money killed grandma, let her take it away. Grandpa and grandma bought this money with their lives, and neither of us has the right to spend it." He bought the best cemetery and the best urn for grandma, and buried grandma's ashes with grandpa's.He invited all his relatives and friends to attend the funeral, and booked dozens of tables in the best hotels.He said that grandma was not respected during her lifetime, and she should be the most beautiful after her death.In this way he compensated his poor widowed mother. Dad, who usually saves even a dime, spends money like water in those days. At that time, our family's finances were very difficult.Two children who are growing up, and the tuition fees of the two children, let parents tear down the east wall to make up for the west wall.Originally, my mother hoped that the money could be used to subsidize the family's daily expenses.Unexpectedly, Dad used all of them for funerals. Mom was very angry and had a big fight with Dad.Mom said, can't the dead take the mouth of the living?Is the old man who has died important, or the child who is growing up?Mom has her reasons, and my mother's reasons are obviously more tenable. However, when Dad was arranging the funeral, he had already lost his reason.He ignored his mother's dissuasion at all, and did it completely according to his own ideas.Not only did he spend all his pensions, but he also incurred a considerable amount of debt. Because of this incident, the atmosphere in our family was tense and depressed for a long time.Mom and Dad were locked in a "cold war" where they didn't speak for months.My brother and I carefully ate, dressed, and went to school in panic.We observed the gloomy faces of our parents, and our hearts were full of resentment towards the dead grandma.At that time, we believed that it was the dead grandma who did not allow us to find peace. Later, I grew up.One night, Dad told me the sad story of Grandpa and Grandma.He told it to me alone, he didn't tell his brother, because he thought it was impossible for him to understand all this.Dad talked all night, and he smoked a few cigarettes for the first time, and he never smokes usually.Dad spoke very emotionally, he cried first, and I cried too. After this night, I finally changed my mind about grandma. On that night, the stars outside the window were shining brightly.Starlight outlined Baba's face.There is a "star" in Dad's name. Dad said that he was born on a night that was also full of stars.He was born in a small air-raid shelter. It was the last year of the Anti-Japanese War, and Japanese planes were still flying in the sky. On that night, all the bad impressions my grandma had made of me melted away—I understood her cruelty, and I was full of sympathy for her.Unfortunately, when I understood all this, my grandma was no longer alive.I regretted thinking: If I gave her a bit of granddaughter's love before my grandma was alive, would her old age be brighter and happier? You don't get tired of me babbling on and on about so much "history" about our family?These trivial things have probably happened to every Chinese family.Happiness is too far away from the Chinese.Misery almost overwhelmed us. I often think of my grandfather's death, my grandmother's death, and the deaths of their contemporaries.Make me sad, but also make me proud.I think, for them, death is not the end of personality, nor does death mean the final submission.Especially grandpa, his suicide was not because of escaping, nor because of fear, but to affirm that he sticks to what he believed, but to show that he fought to the death. Grandpa finished his journey in the world, and calmly and solemnly delivered himself to a wave of clear water.He will pass through the tunnel of death and reach the shore of beauty. It is precisely because there are too many evils and too much pain in the world that we should cherish the time and love well. love you Ning Xuan January 9, 2000 Ning Xuan: The words you wrote are heartbreaking and heartbreaking.However, if you don't write them out and let them stagnate in the blood, it hurts even more.Well, why not write them all out, and let me bear it with you.Suffering with someone to share with can be overcome. I'm also thinking about my grandma's story.However, they are still a mess in my mind.I'll tell you the next time I calm down. After my grandpa passed away, my grandma's life was only halfway through, and there was a tougher half waiting for her - just like your grandma. What supports them to live in this cruel world?It is love, love of past and future, love of the dead, love of children, and love of neighbor. In any case, we cannot be disappointed in love.Life without love is tantamount to walking dead. This kind of love is not an abstract love, but a concrete love.Grandma loves all the people in the village, the old ox and the little yellow dog, the big locust tree at the head of the village and the little cabbage in the field.In this sense, this rural woman who cannot read can communicate with Tolstoy in heart.Tolstoy said that the greatest sin is the abstract love of human beings.It is easy to love someone who is far away, someone we do not know and never meet; Very difficult. Today, I was reading an American "National Geographic" magazine, which introduced the tree of life in the desert-the date palm.It is said that the date palm likes to have the scorching sun on its head and cool water on its feet, like a camel. It is an indispensable plant for travelers in the desert.Therefore, people respect the date palm very much, almost as a family member. The date palm is also the protagonist of various myths and stories.Legend has it that after the true God Allah created Adam, he used the remaining soil to make a date palm tree.Therefore, the date palm is human.Date palms are closely related to each other, and if one dies, the "friends" beside them will no longer bear fruit because of sadness.Even more miraculously, a female date palm dies when its "lover" is cut down. The power of love is truly mysterious.This power makes the grandmas struggle to survive.This power also makes us fearless in the face of evil.Once we have fear, our love will loosen.We leave love as a tree leaves its soil. Ning Xuan, I can't say anything to comfort you, your grandma's story makes me lose sleep.I have no choice but to copy a passage from the Bible for you: If I can speak in tongues of all men, and the words of angels, but have no love, I will be like a clanging gong and a clanging cymbal.If I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and have all faith, which enables me to move mountains, but have no love, I am nothing.If I give all I have to the poor, and give my body to be burned, but have no love, it will profit me nothing. Love is patient, love is kind; love does not envy, love does not parade itself, is not puffed up, is not rude, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil, does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in Truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.Love never stops. ... When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I thought like a child; now that I have become a man, I have put away childish things.We now seem to see in a mirror, blurred, but then we will be face to face. ... Faith, hope, and love abiding now; of these three, the greatest of these is love. ("1 Corinthians 13:1-13") Beijing has cooled down again, and it is now the coldest time of the year. There is a thick layer of ice on the road, so you have to be careful when walking.On campus, boys and girls who are hurrying to and fro on bicycles often fall to the ground with a bang.Fortunately, he was young, rolled on the ground, got up and patted the ice flowers on his body, and he was fine.Boys were stronger, and immediately turned over and got into the car again; some girls would cry, their noses turned red from the cold wind, and I saw it several times. When I first arrived in Beijing, I didn’t know how bad the ice was on the ground, and I often fell down in winter—there were bruises and bruises on my legs and elbows, but it recovered after a few days; I carried it with me and used it for cooking The porcelain bowl was not so lucky, it fell into a pothole, and the places where the porcelain came off became permanent scars.Now, having mastered how to ride and walk on snow, I will never fall again. Weiming Lake has become a world on ice.The last time we met, when we were walking by the lake together, it was still full of autumn water.Today, people skate like crazy on the thick ice of the lake.I can't skate, so I have to stand on the sidelines and watch people's wonderful gestures.There are also a few small children sitting on small skis, sliding from one side of the lake to the other.Laughter is in the wind, as transparent as ice. I don't know how you are there?Is Yangzhou cold in winter?The Slender West Lake in Yangzhou probably does not freeze.Then you can't skate. I work overtime at night and come out of the air-conditioned office, the temperature changes a lot.The night is as cold as water, I hope you cherish the clothes. love you tingsheng January 13, 2000 birth: 我们的爷爷奶奶都没能够白头偕老，不是他们不相爱，而是现实剥夺了他们继续相爱的可能性。 爷爷们死去了，而奶奶们活了下来。我的奶奶活得艰辛而悲惨，她的灵魂被扭曲了，让我感到遗憾的是：在奶奶活着的时候，我们没有给予她应有的爱，我们相互之间是隔绝的而不是理解的。 你能够给我讲述一下你的奶奶的经历吗？ 死者和生者，究竟谁更痛苦呢？在我看来，生者更加不幸。 你给我讲的关于枣椰树的故事，是真的吗？地球上真有这么奇妙的树吗？如果是真的，我真想有一天，与你一起到那浩瀚的沙漠之中去，看一看、抱一抱这种奇妙的树木。 树木与人类、与人类的爱情之间，确实有着某种神秘的联系。 我听说过世界著名女高音歌唱家格温尼斯·琼斯的一个故事。她的家住在瑞士，房子的名字叫"小天堂"，里面种满了她心爱的花草树木。碰巧，园子里的一棵树竟然和外面的一棵树靠在了一起。几年以后，它们已经无法分开了。 然而，邻居偏偏是一个"痛恨"植物的老太太，总想趁格温尼斯夫人出去的时候，悄悄砍掉院子外边那棵正在长高的小树。 有一天，老太太以为格温尼斯夫人外出表演去了，便拿上工具，准备砍掉小树。格温尼斯夫人闻讯而出，几乎是哀求对方不要伤害两棵枝叶缠绕的树。 "你知道吗，如果砍掉一棵树，另一棵也会慢慢死去。"她含着泪说，两棵树就像两个相爱的人，如果其中一个死去，另一个必定痛不欲生。 老太太却生硬地回答她说："我丈夫已经死去好几年了，那么，我是怎么活下来的呢？" 这个小故事还是应了你的一句老话：人与人之间的差异，远远大于人与其他动物之间的差异。 我在出租车上给你写信。我正要赶去开一个关于金融的会议。我在出租车上给你写信，不表明我不在乎你，而正说明你在我心目中无比重要，我时时刻刻都在想着给你写信，我随时随地都可以给你写信。我给你写信可以不拘泥于任何形式。 昨天，我把我们的事情告诉了爸爸妈妈，果然不出我所料，他们都吃惊地合不拢嘴。 我说，我准备近期放弃工作到北京去，他们则感到像是要发生一场地震一样--在爸爸妈妈的眼里，我现在的工作是人人羡慕的、来之不易的好工作。他们在国有企业中工作了一辈子，更看重"稳定"。而现在，我却要轻易地放弃，然后像蒲公英一样飘到完全陌生的北京去。 他们简直认为我疯了。 不过，我一向自作主张惯了，他们也只能随我去了。我要慢慢地把你的一切告诉他们，让他们对你产生信心。我会给他们一些时间，让他们逐渐接受我将离开他们到遥远的北京的现实。你也给我一点时间，好吗？我向你保证，不久之后，我就会履行我们的"约定"，到你的身边来陪伴你。 我的工作还是老一套，每天指挥技术人员做方案，自己也到处去跟客户谈判。对我来说，它是"职业"，而不是"事业"。其实，我也梦想能够像你一样，靠写作来维持自己的生活，不会很富有，也不至于太贫困。但是，我又太过慵懒，不像你勤于动笔，同时我又太依赖"感觉"--没有感觉的时候，一个字也写不出来。这就注定了我无法当一个合格的"职业作家"。 唉，这样一来，我不得不与那些贪婪的商人与官员打交道。 尽管每天都生活在凡庸和琐细之中，我依然让自己"出淤泥而不染"。我没有太多的欲望，自然也就不会为他们所奴役。 而且，我还时时想到你，想到那些我们信守的价值观，一想到这些，我的眼睛就发亮，我的心里就被温情所充满。 your Ning Xuan 两千年一月十八日