By the Xinkai River, to the north of Zhang Xinzhuang, there are rows of tombstones standing neatly. They accompany each other, but can they be so lonely?
When night falls, the crow of crows occasionally sounds, and a small cluster of flowers blooms on someone's grave. Yellow and white are mixed in the grass, swaying quietly in the wind.
Li Shutong stood in front of his mother's grave holding a bunch of flowers. No matter how wildly the grass and trees under his feet grew wildly and the evil wind blew by, his heart felt empty but could not hold anything.
People who depend on each other have crossed to the other side of life alone. It must be a colorful place where there will be no pain and sorrow.
When sending his mother away, Li Shutong used a unique method. Ever since Wenxi said that he would not go home when he was away in mourning, he believed that it was the Li family that was imprisoned by the old system that took away his mother's supposedly happy life.
As a result, there was no paper money flying in the sky, no mourning, and no crying wailing . There were only quiet and solemn condolences, and Li Shutong's eulogy published in Ta Kung Pao .
There were flowers sent in condolences all around. The old pine branch above the coffin seemed to have a divine luster, like a baby's extraordinarily clear eyes, reflecting the truth of the world.
Li Shutong sat down at the piano, and his slender index finger slowly played a string of melody, which echoed in the air.
In a daze, Li Shutong heard the clear and clear sound of the bell when his father passed away. At that time, he was still a child who did not know the joys and sorrows of the world. Now, he is the director of his mother's funeral. Where did he hide the time in between? He couldn't figure it out.
The streets of Tianjin were rumored that the third young master of the Li family had done another strange thing. Only he knew in his heart that it was all to allow his mother to go to another world with peace of mind.
Later he told his disciple Feng Zikai that once her mother died, she would be in constant sorrow and sorrow in her life until she got married.
At this time, the person standing in front of Wang Fengling's grave changed his name again. His name was Li Ai. The joy passed away and the sorrow continued. When he couldn't hold it any longer, he always wanted to escape, as if leaving this place of pain would avoid responsibilities he was unwilling and unable to bear.
This time, he escaped very far.
The sea breeze stirred up the waves, and the waves swallowed up my thoughts. Li Shutong stood on the ship, watching his motherland getting further and further away, and finally disappeared in the mist.
As soon as spring arrives in Tokyo, Japan, cherry blossoms will bloom. Wherever the wind passes, it seems like a pink rain of cherry blossoms.
When Li Shutong came here in 1905, it was already autumn and the paths were covered with fallen leaves. Gray-white birds flew up and down, and pedestrians walked by in a hurry, all with unfamiliar faces.
What he remembered in his mind were chaotic fragments, including his mother's old pine branches, Yang Cuixi 's rosy red lips, Li Pingxiang's butterfly tassel earrings, and Yu's eyes gradually dimming as she stood by the door.
html Over the past 120 years, there were some things that he had deliberately forgotten and was unwilling to mention, for fear that the dust from the past would blur his eyes.
There is a small white western-style building where Li Shutong temporarily rented the place. The room was not big, but he had arranged it in an orderly manner, with a wooden bed and neatly folded plain bedding. On the table, there were art and music books, as well as ceramic tea sets.
The walls are covered with inscriptions, calligraphy and paintings. Every time he goes to a new place, Li Shutong always gives an elegant name to the layman, just as he always changes his name on different occasions.
Li Shutong named this small foreign-style building with elegant decoration and artistic flavor Xiaomi Building.
At this time, Li Shutong was still a quiet art student.He shuttled between school and residence with a new look. He took off his old gown and mandarin jacket, cut off his long braids, and had his hair parted. He wore footless glasses on the bridge of his nose, wore a suit, held a cane, and wore a pair of pointed-toe shoes. He was just like the local students.
He changed simply and completely. He really wanted to forget the old days when we were across the sea. If there was anything worth remembering, it should be his mother.
She is like the box of roses placed in front of the bronze mirror, rouge filled with light fragrance, but gradually covered with dust.
For a long time, Li Shutong couldn't think of what his mother looked like.
When he came to Tokyo and saw the trees full of cherry blossoms in full bloom on a spring day, he suddenly felt that his mother was a cherry blossom.
spent all his life's efforts to bloom brilliantly and enthusiastically, and when the wind came, there was a sad rain of cherry blossoms.
In the city of Tianjin and in the great Shanghai, Li Shutong was a handsome young man from a wealthy family. He walked elegantly but could not conceal his pride, holding his head high.
Now in Tokyo, when walking on the street with a stack of painting books, he smiles and learns to lower his posture. When he is alone in a small maze, he either meditates quietly or smudges a few strokes of watercolor at will.
If a guest comes to visit, he will bow to come in, warm the fire to make tea, and chat in Japanese that is becoming more and more proficient. Life is like a pond in autumn, which tends to be calm, or like pebbles paved in a clear stream, with fewer and fewer edges and corners.
This is a place suitable for forgetting.
In the afternoon, the cool wind lifted the curtains covered with cherry blossoms.
He took off his glasses, cut off the unfinished watercolor painting, stood up and came to the window. There were very few pedestrians on the street, only a few gulls making ripples in the pond. This strange place soothed his uneasiness.
leaping forward deeply, pines and cypresses are green, and the gentle wind flows through the forest, which seems to be a good medicine to soothe people's hearts.
The ripe yellow and green rice fields stretch to the skyline until they are connected to the sea. At this time, the natural scenery of Kanuma, a resort on the Junkawa Bay between Yokohama and Shizuoka in the southwest of Tokyo.
Li Shutong, wearing a pair of hornless glasses on his nose, stood in front of the drawing board and moved the scenery onto the paper one stroke at a time. He named this sunset watercolor painting Jinmarsh Landscape and signed it Li Ai.
Li Ai, the name of Li Shutong in Tokyo at this time.
is a word of sorrow, which has nothing to do with happiness, but is an indifferent feeling. This feeling is not heartbreaking pain, but a long-lasting sadness, circulating in the blood, endlessly.
Compared with the heartache, the gurgling sadness is more intolerable.
When he was in the mood, he would occasionally visit friends or meet his respected master. Most of the time, Li Shutong liked to be alone, because only at this time could he feel the sadness that permeated his blood. That's why it hit him so hard.
Someone once said that calmness, mellowness, and optimism are the postures that a person should have, but these are not the characteristics of art. Art that truly shocks people's hearts is always related to the sadness and ups and downs deep in the human soul.
Only when he is alone in love again, Li Shutong will feel the loneliness, desolation and coldness in a foreign country. When Bo visits friends to see poems, he is accustomed to wearing a crisp suit to show his low-key and elegant temperament.
On the day when he was out sketching, he put on a navy blue flower kimono with a black wrinkled belt around his waist. He was gentle but could not hide his loneliness. He always squeezed himself into his busy life intentionally or unintentionally.
Just to prevent the memories of the other side of the sea from suddenly coming back, just to be a completely different self from the past. In addition to pure painting and sketching, Li Shutong also came up with the idea of compiling an art magazine. At this time, the Japanese government, in response to the Qing government's request, strictly restricted the activities of Chinese students studying abroad, and the art magazine in preparation was abandoned.
Uncle Li was unwilling to give up, so he had to change his direction and seek sustenance in music. He received enlightenment education in Shanghai and has a strong interest in music. When
left the motherland, the motherland song that flowed with the blood and tears of young people inspired the national self-confidence of the Chinese people and made him deeply feel the driving force of music and art.
The painting dream cannot continue, the music dream encounters a dark willow and a bright light at the corner, wandering alone in the dark night. No, accidentally catching a glimpse of the water full of twinkling stars, fate always makes people encounter the most beautiful surprises in the deepest despair, so as to guide people to continue along the road of life with full expectations.
What happened in the past has long been left in parallel time and space. Looking back accidentally or deliberately cannot save the scattered memories.
made me teary-eyed and full of melancholy.
At the beginning of the new year, Li Shutong was writing a preface for a small music magazine alone in a small building with light ink. He was leisurely in the spring, with his eyebrows half-opened, and the soft breeze on his shirt day and night, Liuying Three or five times across the tree, a pair of baby swallows sing sweetly with snowy feathers, up and down, as if they are answering each other. Their sounds are clear and crisp, and the sound is heart-wrenching. Xiao Chen is telling the green, and the grass is not fragrant. Han Qiongqi has two cuckoos crying blood, the book pillow has fallen leaves, and the night rain is hungry.
The old plum tree in the old house in Tianjin was also blooming with small scattered flowers, which were blowing and falling in the wind. It was the place where the mother stayed for the last time. She must have held her son's hand and sat there often, just like Wang Fengling often held Li Shutong and sat in the deep house.
Mr. Yu, thinking of this name, Li Shutong felt more of a sense of strangeness in his heart. This woman has always been silent beside him, and will remain silent until the end of her life.
For her, Li Shutong couldn't tell whether he liked her more or got used to her. He sang loudly with Tianya Wuyou and flirted with the pretty girl in pink. In this island country, he didn't dare to miss any of them. He just missed an atmosphere. But now that he thinks about it, that time is like a dream.
These intermittent emotions did not make Li Shutong feel embarrassed, but instead became his inspiration for creating music. This small music magazine, in addition to two illustrations and three articles written by Japanese, cover design, art paintings, editorials, and miscellaneous writings on music history and music, are all handled by one person under the pseudonym of Xishuang, written by Li Shutong.
Even though its size is 64 pages and only 30 pages, it contains 19 items of content, including one charcoal painting, two wood board paintings, seven articles, three songs, and lyrics and chapters . The classification is very detailed. Huh-huh, just send the letter home to express your love and affection across the border, but who is alone in this corner of the mountain?
The agarwood forest, the color is wonderful and desolate, the soul of the disciple, the cold weather of the motherland is whining, the bottom of the goat, spring lanterns swallows are pitiful, the jade tree in the setting sun is sad in the back yard, looking at the cool breeze in the heart of a dog, the road blows every inch on a rainy day, who wants to affect the past, turned into despair.
In the corner of the hotel, the night is as long as a year, far more serious than missing. I am on the verge of crying, with no relatives by my side, no friends to accompany me, the strong wind is knocking on the window lattice, the lights in the house are about to go out, and the hand holding the pen is already frozen and is red.
However, he was not discouraged. The paintings and melodies gurgling from the bottom, as well as this preface for a small music magazine, were all comforts to his soul.
He waited with tenacious patience for the world where prints would bloom all over the branches.
On the eighth day of February, 1906, the first issue of a small music magazine was newly built in Sankodo, Tokyo. The jumping staff was finally embedded into the pages of the book, continuing his artistic sentiment. It was sent back to China five days later and was distributed by Game Music in Shanghai on the 20th.
The wind in early spring was still a bit cool. One day, when Li Shutong went out to sketch, he looked up and suddenly caught a glimpse of the cherry blossom tree opposite the small building. It had bloomed a few scattered small flower petals, which were pink and tender, like a newborn baby, and seemed to be that little music magazine that had just been published.
At this moment, the admission notice from Tokyo Art School was mailed to him. He was always grateful for his fate, even though he was often in poverty and loneliness.
