Me and Houhai

Shi Tiesheng wrote "I and Ditan". I can't compare with it, but I brazenly "copied" his words: I and Houhai. Houhai is a small version of Shi Tiesheng's altar to me.

I first went to Houhai in the Spring Festival of 2008. I was forced to change trains from Beijing because I didn't buy a direct train ticket back to Changchun. However, fortunately, I don't feel embarrassed when my roommates help me in Beijing. I spent an afternoon waiting for the train to take me to see Houhai. Frozen Houhai.

At that time, we were naive, and Houhai in our eyes was extremely pure. Because of the cold weather and the first month, the bar is not lively. Occasionally, three or two pedestrians pass by in a hurry. Houhai impressed me as quiet and elegant. Later, I also left in a hurry. I am in Houhai, and Houhai is a passer-by.

Two years later, I came to Beijing. The new environment and new height gave me double pressure, and I planted a tacky and melodramatic seed in my heart: depression. Later, it spread its leaves and grew into a disease, which brought me a series of physiological and psychological changes. Howling and silence are powerless in the face of depression. At that time, I came to Houhai again and was in the same class with a group of cycling teenagers.

There was already a song in Houhai at that time. In summer, the night is cool. The lake is sparkling. The path by the lake, shoulder to shoulder, is very lively. I look at their excitement, feel warm, and feel that I am on the earth. It doesn't matter if friends around you are chatting and joking, maybe they are really carefree, or they may temporarily hide their sadness. We walked, chatted and watched the sea, which was beautiful.

During my three years in Beijing, I went to Houhai countless times. My inner pain and hesitation have never forgiven me, but as long as I come to Houhai, they will disappear quietly and give me a short freedom.

Sometimes it's winter, just like the first time I met Houhai. The water was frozen and fenced off to build an outdoor skating rink. Young people and old people swished around on the small and comfortable ice. The cold wind blows my scarf and face. I looked at the snow and the winter sun and imagined how good it would be not to leave, even though I was a little ant in this soil.

When it is warm in winter, the ice on the lake is melting and steaming. Sometimes I get together with roommates and girls, and sometimes I am myself. Walking along the lake, you can see dogs in cotton vests in the sun, see all kinds of strange but creative shops, and see the old Qing-style houses with the note "No entry", which makes people laugh and think. Shuttling through the wall of the alley, you can hear the footsteps walking in time. Or this itself is the pace of time and years, one-way, beautiful but irresistible.

Singing in Houhai must be rich in summer. Those artists with musical dreams and dreams of drifting north are either holding guitars or holding microphones to sing softly or hysterically. Either way, there are nerves and impulses that make people feel calm. Lotus floats on the lake, boats slide and anglers fall, attracting the temptation of wild ducks. There are long centipede kites and flashing bamboo dragonflies in the sky. There are young hormones in the air, and the eyes burn with the light.

I remember the thrush on the back beach, the stone tablet of Huixiantang that stood quietly for hundreds of years, the occasional rickshaw, wild duck, lake, wooden boat, stone bridge, all kinds of former residences located in the east, west, north and south of the lake, the hanging flower gate of the ancient house, and all the beautiful things.

Last time I went to Houhai, I was with mice. A few days later, I left Beijing under the witness of mice. There is a touching sadness and joy in dung beetles. I have always felt that this is the farewell of an era. The end of a student's career may mark the end of youth. I have always kept the train ticket with the word "Xue" printed on it for the last time. When the train starts, it's just a passing sight for the rest of my life.

I haven't been to Houhai for five years, but I wrote 150,000 words in the name of Houhai as a souvenir. A few days ago, my son rummaged through the closet looking for toys and turned out the train ticket at the bottom of this closet for me. I think of Houhai and those who are related to Houhai. I went to Beijing on business this time, and it was Houhai and those flowers. Fortunately, Houhai hasn't changed, and those flowers are as fragrant as before.

It's just that I'm a traveler again. Although I dawdled and dawdled, the subway stopped at last, so I still have to go. Later, I took a night view of Houhai and made a circle of friends. I once again "stole" Shi Tiesheng's words: I am no longer in Houhai, I am in Houhai. I am Houhai.