Xiao Yin’s Story丨When the wind came to Wuzhen, I was tired.

Autumn must be quiet, smiling but silent. Autumn must be a person's eternal life. At most, it's two people waiting silently.

The gesture of autumn is the love between flowers and people. It is the sound of a guqin and a flute that comes from the past to today.

Last night’s rain made me wake up from my dream. She got up and closed the window tightly, and began to write some unwritten long and short sentences, mostly about autumn.

The wind last night was so cool, chilling to the bones. The window was half-open, and the curtains swayed as the wind came in. It was late at night, and she was not sleepy. She just wanted to sit like this, let the wind blow, and talk to the night. Sometimes she would flip through a few pages of a book, and the wind would blow the pages of her book, brushing them.

How is he?

A thin trace of longing flashed through her mind. She looked up and saw the bright moon. It was already autumn, the moon was full, and the people were round. she thought.

On that autumn night two years ago, he made his first phone call to her. At that time, they had been communicating through letters for a year.

Listen, Ye Zi, there are autumn insects mumbling outside the window.

Did you hear that?

She chuckled and said: Is autumn in the south cold?

What a silly question. It’s September, early autumn. Besides, he is only in Jiangnan, not the south in the true sense.

He also laughed on the phone: It’s not cold, but cool. The house near the river is relatively humid, but I like the feeling of humidity very much.

Zi Zi is in a small northern town, doing a job that he doesn’t like but doesn’t hate either. He has a stable salary and works from 9 to 5.

In the eyes of his parents, Ye Zi is well-behaved and sensible. From birth to growing up, he has always followed the established route, studying, graduating, working, and in the future he will find a gentle man to get married and have children. Raising children, retiring, growing old, plain and stable.

Until, I met him. It was as if the desire that had been stranded in the bottom of my heart was being pulled out and then filled back up.

Is life just like this, starting from the age of 20, ten or twenty years?

Ye Zi, who has loved reading since she was a child, started trying to write articles. She joined many literary exchange groups and chatted with literary friends on the Internet. Let’s talk about the poems of Haizi and Gu Cheng, and the novels of Qiong Yao and Yi Shu.

He is a literary friend of Qiuxin Literary Society. He writes good modern poetry and has a strong Jiangnan flavor.

At that time, she didn’t know that the place where he lived had gray-white walls, dark-colored tiles, and houses that rested on the river. She read Dai Wangshu's Rain Alley and thought about what kind of scenery it would be like, with deep lonely alleys, endless drizzle, smiling girls and paper umbrellas exuding the fragrance of tung oil. .

They must have become familiar with each other from a poem. It was so long ago that she actually couldn’t remember it.

Ye Zi, your name is as beautiful as the poem you wrote. he said.

Oh, really, thank you. She replied calmly.

It feels like the small town I live in, with an ancient feel. he said again.

Ye Zi didn't care where the town he lived was, but the last sentence had an ancient meaning, which made her stare at it for a long time.

September in the north is dry and cold. Ye Zi does not like this city, let alone the autumn in this city. The sunshine was thin, the clouds were stingy, and the tall buildings often obscured the distance she could see. She longed for the rainy alley described by Dai Wangshu and the lilac girl holding a paper umbrella.

Leaves, the wind in the town after autumn is clear, the water is clear, there are cotton-like clouds during the day, and there are chirping autumn insects at night. he said.

Zi Zi, you will definitely fall in love with this town. he said.

Zi Zi, the town and I are waiting for you. he said.

When she received his 99th letter, winter in the north had already entered the snow season. She was wearing a thick bright yellow down jacket, fluffy cotton gloves and a scarf. She sat on a park bench and read the letter he wrote word for word.

Winter in the north is more lonely than autumn. The snow is thick and the boots squeak when you step on it. It is too cold. The park is empty except for the occasional sound of the snow breaking branches.

In the letter, he told Ye Zi about the small town. He said that there is no snow in the town in winter, and the sun is very bright. People in the town moved chairs to bask in the sun, and the sunlight fell on the leaves of the camphor trees, casting mottled silhouettes. He said that the wintersweet in the courtyard was in bloom, and the small pale yellow flowers had a cold fragrance. He said he moved the old books out to soak up the sunshine and warmth. At the end, he said: Ye Zi, I miss you.

Oh. His name is Su Ruofeng.

Winter is passing quickly, but in this city in the north, it is still very cold in early spring.

Leaves and winter jasmine flowers bloomed in the town. They grew in a long row along the river bank. Some of the branches fell into the water, reflecting like a painting.

Ye Zi, changed into thin clothes in spring, sat in front of the old house and read Dai Wangshu's poems. Holding an oil-paper umbrella/wandering alone/in the long/lonely rainy alley. I thought of you.

Ye Zi, there is a large peach blossom forest outside the town. I went to see the flowers yesterday. It was really spring.

The small town is finally getting warmer, and the leaves have put on thin gauze skirts, and we can go see the flowers and the green wheat fields. In spring, the wheat fields in the suburbs were really green, and some people even planted golden rapeseed flowers in the wheat fields. She breathed in the air in the fields. It had just fallen after the Qingming Rain, and every breath she took was filled with moist mist, like , the town where he lives.

As spring passed and autumn came, it was September again, and Ye Zi received his first call.

Zi Zi, your voice is so beautiful. he said.

You too. she replied. The phone call consisted of a man speaking in a low and slightly hoarse voice.

He turned on the phone hands-free, and she heard the sound of running water and the fireworks in the small town.

He can also listen to her the whispering of autumn insects at night.

I decided to go see him in the winter of this year, when it still snowed heavily in the north. He wrote her the 199th letter, which also included a collection of Xi Murong's poems. He said: The sunshine at noon is the best. After I finished drying the book, I wrapped it and sent it to you, hoping to warm your cold winter.

She held the book of poems in her hands and thought about the sunny town, and her heart couldn't help but feel warm.

She didn’t tell him, looking for the address on the letter, she was going to see someone in the spring.

Wuzhen, she is here. The town was just like what he described in his letter. Spring jasmine flowers bloomed by the river in spring, and their long branches fell into the water like a painting. The people in the town smiled kindly at her, and she smiled too, holding the flower in her hand and thinking in her heart. Addresses thousands of times.

Grandma, how can I get to Su Ruofeng’s house? She took out the envelope with the address on it and asked her grandma, who was sitting under the willow tree by the river, basking in the sun.

Grandma was wearing a dark blue coarse cloth, with a blue calico scarf wrapped around her head. Are you looking for it? Ruofeng? Grandma asked uncertainly.

Yes, I’m looking for Su Ruofeng. Ye Zi lowered her head shyly.

Girl, who are you? Grandma was a little confused.

Friends... Friends... Zi Zi was a little at a loss.

Hey. Grandma sighed heavily.

Ye Zi panicked all of a sudden. She didn’t know what happened, but she had a bad premonition.

Grandma.

Girl, if the wind last winter, it would have gone away.

Gone? Ye Zi is puzzled.

Gone, gone with terminal lung cancer. What a pity for such a sunny young man, he is only in his twenties. Grandma's eyes were a little moist as she spoke.

Zi Zi couldn’t believe it. He had never mentioned it in his letters. He always told Zi Zi that every plant, tree, brick and tile in the town was something she read about in Yuxiang from his letter. Poetry, why did he pass away with terminal lung cancer?

She came too late, he couldn't wait any longer.

Like the wind, but he is not the wind.

Zi Zi settled down in a small town, and his house was near the water.

As spring passed and autumn came, the jasmine flowers bloomed and fell. In winter, there was a lot of warm sunshine. She took out the books in the house and dried them, which gave them the smell of sunshine.

Season after season, she is a leaf, wandering around in the daily fireworks of the small town for half her life, but her wind can no longer blow.

When the wind reached Wuzhen, I was tired.

Xiaoyin. Henan daughter. Live temporarily in the south of the Yangtze River. Love wearing skirts. Play the guzheng, write articles, do hand-painting, do embroidery and photography, walk freely, and like to nourish dreams with dreams. A collection of personal essays "Picking Flowers with My Own Hands" and a new book "Leaves of Grass Blown by the Wind in Summer" will be released in December 2017.