"Old Summer"

Text/Zhang Chen

1

There is a summer like this in my memories - the golden sunshine spreads all over the courtyard covered with square tiles, and the flowers raised by my mother There is a delicate fragrance in the shade, the kind of light fragrance that can only be smelled if you get close and take a deep breath. The cicadas on the tree sang melodious songs. The sun seemed very poisonous, but my heart was not hot.

At that time, I was still very young and ignorant of the world. My heart was as pure as a crystal ball. Facing this unknown world, I loved it blankly but without hesitation, even the endless cicadas. Ming doesn't feel noisy either.

I was wearing a white little skirt and spinning around in the yard, looking at the flying skirt and "giggling" with joy, which was a joy from the bottom of my heart. At that time, I knew nothing about the world and had no delusions. Just spinning around alone could make me truly happy.

It must have been more than ten years ago, the age when one of the front teeth was missing. At that time, China's youth idol dramas were still in a mess, but Mr. Jin Yong and Aunt Qiong Yao's costumed men and women were very popular, but they didn't quite suit my taste. So I followed my mother to watch Korean dramas. They were old classics whose names I couldn’t remember. I seemed to understand them, but I was fascinated by them. At that time, I thought that when I grow up, I want to be like the heroine of a Korean drama, with long flowing hair, a soft voice, a sweet smile, wearing skirts with rippling skirts, pink, white, goose yellow, sky blue...

The girl living in the fairy tale must have never thought that many years later she would be a woman obsessed with black and white. She no longer has a paranoid love for the world, but a deep indifference. She is no longer looking forward to the appearance of the gentle male protagonist in Korean dramas. She loves freedom and loneliness. She looked at the evil in the world and the ugliness of human nature, and thought she was living soberly, but she was afraid that she was just in another cruel illusion. She became a cold woman, completely different from the gentle heroine in Korean dramas.

Along the way, what have we left behind and what are we looking forward to? Time, what did it steal?

2

Before I was six years old, I was running around with a group of friends. At that time, "Huan Zhuge Ge" was on the air - although it is still on air more than ten years later - a group of us children played the roles in the play. Hong Kong always played the emperor because he was the only one among us. boys. Dandan has always played the role of queen, and I don’t know why, but she has always been the one. Qianqian Huanhuan and I are palace maids, and occasionally I play the role of assassin, and Qianqian plays the role of concubine or bodyguard.

I think we kids started to fall in love really early. After watching a few Qiong Yao dramas, the kid from Hong Kong mustered up the courage and said, "Qianqian, marry me when you grow up." "Qianqian said shyly: "I don't know, I will marry whoever the teacher tells me to marry." It's such a cute age, and I feel so happy every time I think about it.

Before we went to elementary school, we had a few hairy kids playing together. Oh, by the way, there was also a little girl with long braids. Her grandparents' house was opposite my house, and she would come to play occasionally. She would sit on the stone bench at the door at night when the street lights were dim, and teach me how to tie nice knots with the corners of my clothes. The starry sky must have been very beautiful at that time, so her bright eyes would twinkle like the stars.

The girl with long braids is called Xiaoyuan. She is very beautiful and can sing nice songs. After we entered elementary school, we were assigned to the same class. She became my good friend and I liked her very much. She is the most lovable little girl in the class. Everyone is vying to be friends with her, but I think she and I are the best friends.

We are indeed very good friends and once had cats together. My cat is a gray-black civet cat with watery eyes. Her cat has yellow and white fur and warm eyes. At the beginning of summer, when we walked around the streets with our cats and played house, the cats were our children. It was a wonderful time.

Later, the cats died. They say cats have nine lives, but I think that’s a lie.

Fortunately, the two of us are still alive. I think we should be together forever and be good friends for life.

At that time, I didn’t understand how long time was and how far away forever was...

3

I had many pets when I was a child, but I took good care of them. They never last long, so I have a lot of innocent souls on my hands. But I always thought that people will not die. Why do people die?

The first one to leave was Hong Kong’s grandfather.

It was an eccentric old man who lived in a house built of old gray bricks. The small yard is full of plants, and together with the gray house, the green area looks gloomy and quiet in summer.

When I was in elementary school, I saw Zhou Shuren’s description of the Baicao Garden in "Bloomies Plucked at Morning and Dusk", and I immediately remembered this small courtyard. Admittedly, it is not as bright as Zhou Shuren's garden. I don't really like to call this profound elder "Lu Xun". This title is too heavy.

But in my impression he is very tough, and he would talk to us intermittently in the shade behind the wall in midsummer. He said that when he looked at the sky on the plane, it was as pure blue as a blue crayon, and white clouds drifted by the plane. He stretched out his hand and touched it, and it was slippery, like yogurt jelly. The yogurt jelly aroused our greed, and three or four children gathered around him and asked, "Why don't you bring some back?"

I can’t remember clearly what he said later. I just remember that he was sitting on the bluestone with his back slightly hunched over, his face weathered, his expression calm yet mighty. He is not an ordinary old man. I heard adults say that he was a man who did great things in his prime. For example, he wears the same Mao suit all year round.

Suddenly one day he left. Hong Kong, dressed in mourning clothes, walked past me with his eyebrows downcast and did not cry. We were still too young and ignorant of the world, and we didn’t understand what death meant.

In the middle of summer in July, one day after grandpa was buried, Hong Kong suddenly burst into tears. I understood something about the meaning of death in his cries. After a pet dies, another one will soon take its place, but after all, it is not the original one. Just like Hong Kong's grandfather, when he is gone, Hong Kong will no longer have a grandfather.

For the first time, I realized that life is so difficult and precious. It is so precious that even if I hold it carefully in my hand, I will be nervous and frightened.

I think Hong Kong also understood, such as his silence and late tears at that time. The difference is that I understand in his crying, and he understands in time.

4

I once read this sentence: One day, you will stand on the cracks of time, missing your luxurious and bright childhood, and burst into tears.

Time will tell us everything.

Most of my childhood memories are of playing with my friends on long warm summer afternoons. After entering elementary school, we met a new friend-Cui Xiayu. He is the kind of kid who looks fair and elegant but is actually very naughty.

After waking up from a nap, Xiaoyuan, Ganggang and Xia Yu would come to play with me, and we would climb a nearby hill together. It was midsummer at that time, which should have been a season of overwhelming green, but in my memory there were large expanses of sudden yellow, which were ancient rocks with cracks carved out by time. Where there were no rocks, there was lush green.

We stood on the rock and looked down the mountain, and discussed whether the school-like building at the foot of the mountain was our elementary school.

When I think about it, Hong Kong, who was only seven or eight years old, was really a slut. After entering elementary school, his proposal partner quickly changed from Qianqian to Xiaoyuan. On that sunny and breezy day, he and Xiaoyuan said to us: "We are going over there. You guys are waiting here. Don't be lazy." At the end, Xiaoyuan emphasized again, "No peeking!"

We were so honest that we actually didn't peek and stayed quietly on the rocks, standing or sitting. There are many snail shells on the rocks, complete, damaged, crushed... I think they are the bodies of snails. They stayed there for a long time, motionless.

"What do you think they are doing? I think they must be holding hands, maybe even kissing!" Xia Yu said.

At that time, we only lightly defined kissing as lip to lip, which we learned from TV. Technology more than ten years ago was far less advanced than it is today. Television is our only window to see the outside world. Without it, we might not even understand the meaning of holding hands and kissing. Then I watched an old movie called "Summer Light Years" in 2013, which almost caused my world view to collapse.

"I think so." I said looking at the snail carcasses on the ground.

My childhood sweetheart is engaged in a lifelong affair with another girl, and I can’t help but feel a little melancholy.

However, I never thought that Xia Yu would become my sweetheart one day.

Starting around the third grade, Hong Kong transferred to another school. Xiaoyuan’s family was not on the same path as ours, so the two of us went to and from school together every day. I was wearing a pink skirt and he was wearing a plaid shirt. On the road we must pass through, old people would often call us "little childhood sweethearts and little bamboo horses" with a smile.

Actually, Xia Yu and I live in the same alley, he is in the south of the alley and he is in the north. As for why we never met before elementary school, I don’t know...

5

I think memories are a matter for adults.

In childhood, when we can’t remember, the things that will make us cry in the future are nothing more than a tasteless piece of steamed bun dropped into honey.

The same goes for parting.

Often when I think back many years later, I will be filled with emotion that so many people have left me. Not just death, but maybe living in another place, or maybe just a hundred steps away but incompatible with each other's world.

During the summer vacation of the second grade, Hong Kong happily told me that he didn’t have to do homework this summer because he was going to transfer to another school. I feel envious.

On the day we left, he sat in the back of the car and I stood on the side of the road, silent to each other. No goodbyes, no goodbyes. Perhaps it is because we realize that we will have our own lives in the future, and we will become more and more alienated over the years until we forget each other.

If Hong Kong’s departure was unexpected, then Xiaoyuan’s departure was expected but unbearable. She accompanied me through the long six years of elementary school and then we parted ways in the summer of graduation. . During that quarrel, I broke my Barbie and she said harsh words, and we have not had any contact with each other since then.

Obviously a few days ago we were flying kites together, wandering around the deserted campus, building a nest in the woods together... In an instant, everything was gone.

Xia Yu's departure was extremely natural. Naturally, when they met by chance one day to say hello, they found that there was only greeting between them. From the beginning of the first year of junior high school, he shuttled between various cram schools. In the end, he finally became the same person on the outside, quiet, hard-working, and full of bookishness.

7

My junior high school career kicked off with a copycat version of military training. That military training was nothing more than standing in military posture, singing, and telling jokes. It was not formal. Xiaoyuan was in the next class, and she offended the instructor because she repeatedly pretended to be uncomfortable and slacked off. You see, she is no longer the most popular girl.

The dazzling sunlight makes people dizzy. What they see when they close their eyes is not darkness but thick scarlet. The boy in a white shirt stood in front of the team and told everyone jokes, with a warm smile and a clear voice. I looked at the corners of his eyes and felt even hotter.

The warm boy has a name that suits him very well. His name is Yang.

Then, it was nothing more than an indescribable little feeling that fermented into liking with the beat of the heart, and was carefully put away, brewing into a secret love.

Secret love is a fairy tale of foxtail grass. That's when I can still write such a sentence. When I was in junior high school, I was an idiot who was obsessed with idol dramas. I thought there would be a handsome young man walking towards me from the crowd, I thought there would be a gentle gentleman waiting silently for Cinderella, I thought there would be a playful boy who loves the girl deeply. But I prefer to go against her... However, the facts tell me how badly the idol drama deceived me!

I always don’t want to recall my junior high school years or those people. For example, the self-pitying self, the young boy who became dandy and no longer warm, and the person I call my best friend.

Is she standing still or am I walking too fast? I think hard.

I was once a noisy girl like her, and I vowed to be sisters for the rest of my life. And now I'm beginning to hate her. I hate her online boyfriend who changes more frequently than her underwear. Her exaggerated voice in public events. Her movements are so exaggerated that she tilted my glasses with her hands. She dragged me to watch the ball in the stadium. I yelled at the top of my voice, "Which handsome guy have you fallen in love with?"

I quietly distanced myself, maybe she didn't understand, and I didn't bother to explain.

I ran away from this friendship first, maybe I felt sorry for her. So what? We have our own world.

You see, I am no longer pure white. I am left to my own devices and helpless in the face of the evils of human nature.

6

I am thinking about how to make a natural transition between the past and the present.

If we talk about change, we must mention growth. 2013 was a year of rapid growth for me. Since I entered high school, I have become quiet and quiet. During the time when I didn't speak, I learned to think, how to behave, how to deal with others, and how to be polite and generous. I began to have my own understanding, my own opinions, and learned to respect my own ideas.

Even if I get lost and lose my wallet in the city at the beginning of the lanterns, I will no longer cry like I did when I was a child. I calmly borrow a phone from passers-by to contact my family, explain my situation to them, and calmly recall the route. Backing the bus to the bus stop to go home. That night I did not grow up overnight, but I realized my own growth.

The thing that connects growth and the future is dreams, and I gradually learned how to treat them correctly. The beginning of the dream was awkward, hasty, and awkward. For nearly a year, I kept writing, revising, and submitting manuscripts, but nothing came to mind, and I continued tirelessly. I write because of my love, and I submit for recognition. All of this comes from a dream!

Perhaps growth is like this, changing little by little, too subtle to be noticed, but becoming magical in memories.

7

Hu Lancheng once promised Zhang Ailing this sentence: "May the years be peaceful and the world be stable."

If this is true, how beautiful it would be.

It’s just that these words that I once put on my lips in admiration are now out of reach, like living in two time and space.

I am like a corpse, cold and desperate in the chaos, trying to struggle but unable to move. I feel like I'm getting wasted, and I don't want to be like that.

I received a note in class with a messy handwriting. I took a casual glance and saw the sentence "Have you ever liked me" at the end of the sentence. I roughly understood whose hand it was from, and I tore it apart calmly. I remember that when I saw the scraps of paper that Yang tore up two years ago, I felt the same way, as calm as a lake.

"Have you ever liked me?" I also asked Yang this way. He tore up the love letter calmly, as if nothing had happened.

God is fair after all. Those who have been trampled on by others have finally been trampled on others. However, even if the person who was trampled on was me, I didn't feel any resentment. After all, he was never mean to me, he just pretended that nothing happened. And what kind of confidence does this boy whose name and face I can barely match have? Asking such a question in a panic and in a disgusting font is off-putting.

I wrote the blue love letter to Yang two years ago on the most beautiful letter paper and the most perfect handwriting after staying up late at night, so you can tell at a glance whether it was necessary or not.

I started to hate every boy who liked me, and it was me who became mean.

I am increasingly uncomfortable with this messy world, so I exiled myself on the island, refusing to talk or laugh and become irritable.

My whole body is covered with prickly thorns and I refuse everyone’s kindness. I was protecting myself in a crazy way, blocking the sea of ??fire from the world and freezing my heart.

I have become what I once feared. I am indifferent to people and things, have a straight face all day long, have an unpredictable and weird temper, and am not approachable.

I am afraid, afraid that one day I will live like a cold corpse walking like a zombie, with sparkling and pungent corpse oil flowing under the scorching sun, and no longer able to feel a trace of warmth. .

I told myself that this may be the so-called confused season in youth, and everything will be fine after this season.

I can only tell myself this.

8

If one day I woke up and found myself lying in class when I was seven years old, Xiaoyuan was playing with her braids, and her hair was black. Bright and penetrating pupils. I rubbed her arm and whispered: "Hey, I had a long dream." So, will our future change?

Prince Qingquan sang, If I could live my life over again, my choice would remain the same.

Over the years, we have grown, wandered, changed and struggled. Maybe after many years, I will go round and round but come back to the starting point.

I have always believed that people have two sides to the same coin, and that darkness and warmth coexist.

My warmth was written into poems by those old summers.

Written in July 2014.