Wang Yizhi lives in Shuihuai Mountain.
Wu Meicheng lives in Ziwei Mountain.
Wang Yizhi moved to this mountain three years ago, about two thousand years ago.
Wu Meicheng discovered this mountain half a year ago because he needed to visit Wang Yizhi.
First of all, the name of the mountain first caught her attention. A word for water and a word for Huai were one of the words from her childhood to the place where she lived as an adult, which caused her an inexplicable emotion.
Wu Meicheng found out about Wang Yizhi by chance, and it was her last autumn outing that year. When I was climbing the mountain, when I leaned against a crooked tree and rested my feet, I looked up to the top of the mountain and vaguely saw a wooden house, and an old man walked up next to him. He said he was visiting someone. He is painting. My name is Wang Yizhi.
Wu Meicheng felt that this conversation was very back to basics. She didn't make any sound, and the old man smiled and gave her such a good question when he saw her smiling back.
Wu Meicheng is a reporter.
Over the years, she has written about trekkers, made dolls, carved the scriptures of mountains and seas, and painted monsters from hell. Their future lives are eye-opening for all viewers. There are men and women on foot, and they make their homes and camps on the road. A man who sews puppets in an abandoned factory. When he is done, someone will eat with him every day, watch his creations, and sit with him on the low dam to watch the sunset. A man born in the 80s who used a fine knife to carve fairy beasts. He was taciturn and stayed in an empty house. Zixie, Liangyan, and Jiangxiao were all transformed from the knife.
After she finished writing and devoted herself to the study of the Japanese hell-turned-painter, Wu Meicheng began to find no direction. She gradually became aware that some people's lives were not necessarily created by him. In other words, it was obtained by being rolled by the wheels of the society, and finally formed a seemingly harmonious, tired body, not as good as the life found by the previous characters. It was at this moment that her speed of writing slowed down. It was late at night when she got home every day. She looked out the large floor-to-ceiling windows, the lights were bright, and she felt lonely.
A week after Wu Meicheng came home from that trip, he would think of this Wang Yizhi from time to time. The memory started from the longing of the old man's eyes to the hilltop, and she drew a line. The line starts halfway up the mountain, which is maroon wet rock. In the typical large folds of karst landforms, some plants that are oblique to the sky are rubbed out, but they are weak. Staring for a long time, the dark green after sifting through the sun also thought that it was very tenacious, struggling in clusters, sculpted in zigzags, the small leaves on the serrated edge were covered with velvet, and there were lines on the top. Then the line went up, including cross-country cherry trees, wild peach, wild apricot, until the small wooden house. No matter how she remembered, she couldn't see the color of the house, but after a week, what the old man said in her ear was very clear: Oh, his name is Wang Yizhi, he said that he came 3 years ago, but I always see him. There are ten paintings, and they are all posted on the wall of the house. You can check it out too. His name is Wang Yizhi.
Why does the old man always emphasize that he is calling Wang Yizhi? Like the new name that has been changed, only after it has been changed will it be emphasized time and time again, as if something was removed.
Wu Meicheng is on vacation recently.
Wang Yizhi is still on the mountain, painting.
He recently took a sudden interest in a dynasty. One day, he saw a group imitating the Song Dynasty on a public account. He began to pay special attention to the misjudgment that occurred on the fold of a lady's light-ink skirt. He no longer believed in this official authority because he was a familiar reader of Tokyo Menghualu, Quan Song Ci, and Shiji. He felt that something was wrong, and it seemed to happen just when her skirt was swaying like waves. He used his knowledge to paint, and he painted more than ten pictures one after another, each of which was a small part. He only drew five of the three slightly folded lines, and he looked for small differences in these five pictures, and finally found that it should be more like an axe, so he concealed half of the tail and kept the top.
Wu Meicheng came to this mountain gate at this time, knocked on it, and made a dull wooden sound.
Wang Yiyi was stunned when he saw it.
When Wu Meicheng's report of the visit to the mountain was completed, she remembered that when she asked Wang Yizhi the meaning of paintings that seemed to have no major difference on the surface, he replied like this, and I was just killing time.
Wu Meicheng didn't believe it.
Not only from Wang Yizhi's sitting position during the visit, but also from a flash of glances at the hanging vines outside the window, or from her left finger rubbing against the damp cloth pants, she could feel something that Wang Yizhi's eyes had never revealed. She asked, when did you have the idea to come to the mountain? When she listened to his simple, few words but waited a long time for a reply, she was sure that it was a kind of unwillingness. It manifests insidiously in any tentacle, consciously or unconsciously. So sometimes you see repetition, pointless repetition.
Wu Meicheng recalled all the paintings he saw in this hut. Only one is a fake. Soon after going down the mountain, Wu Meicheng downloaded it from the Internet and read it from time to time.
The death of Orifina. He copied it very seriously, and people generally felt an air-conditioning, which was lightly waving in the green forests in all directions, the deep pool in the center, and Olivier's tulle skirt was soaked. In his writing, nothing has changed. Her left eye has been squinted, her right eye is straight, her hand is lying flat, and the soft skirt can see the trembling of the water. Wu Meicheng thought that the only thing that was different from the master's work might be classified as the same light. Wang Yizhi adjusted it slightly, or slightly brighter, so that Orifina's death was like a holy god, and the lake was full of light, telling the world that this was the poor woman's. Death is an ordinary but a huge loss, and in the end only the Black Forest wanted this person.
The manuscript was sent two years ago. In the past two years, Wu Meicheng had a bad life. The house bought by the savings of three generations suddenly encountered a debt crisis. She waited with a bearish heart. From time to time, I think of Wang Yizhi on the top of the mountain.
During this period, there were no more than five or six phone calls from Wu Meicheng to Wang Yizhi, and most of them talked lightly about painting.
But the call from Wang Yizhi to Wu Meicheng's mobile phone is memorable because there is only one. Wu Meicheng was sometimes tired of life, and suddenly he was afraid. In his mind, a few words from Wang Yizhi and the image he might have after those words appeared in his mind. A pair of eyes that are so kind and harmless, suddenly dodged and came back again, saying that this plant on the mountain is magically beautiful.
Wu Meicheng listened, turned upside down, and was returning, like an invitation.
He understands her.
I went there once, and stayed for half an hour, and the next two years.
After another half year, Wu Meicheng resigned and went to Shuihuashan. After receiving the reception, Wang Yizhi corrected her with a smile when he took her down the mountain. It was Shuihuaishan. She Wu Meicheng was surprised for a while, and she didn't know that something quietly penetrated into her childhood and changed in an instant.
She followed him, recognizing the mountain, thinking about the mountain, saw the sun from Shandong, went to Shanxi, the sun went down, and gradually realized that this mountain is not as beautiful as she thought at first, with many dry branches that have withered but not melted, and then from the top Moss, from a distance up the mountain is full of verdant greenery. Wang Yizhi said that this is the only way to live without shelter from the wind.
There are trees, there are tall trees, isn't it good for the taller trees? It was so obvious, he said. Wu Meicheng looked at the remaining small shrubs, and finally his eyes fell on a few fruit trees. With these four trees, the wind is neither too small nor too small, just right. If you also go up the mountain, there is another one, over there.
Wu Meicheng followed the direction of Wang Yi's hand, and her mood was indifferent. She saw a green hill and almost looked at it.
Wu Meicheng went from the mountains to the small town this day, and stayed in a mountain lodging for one night. She pushed the window to the dark green mountain. She crossed a bridge, some small houses in the mountain village, and watched the sunset on the mountain, and thought of a mirage.
What is the mountain called? Wang Yizhi immediately understood Wu Meicheng's plan, but he had never heard of her, which made Wu Meicheng feel fresh and waited for tomorrow.
It's called Ziwei Mountain.
Wu Meicheng used to live in a mountain, and the house behind the window was called Ziwei Pavilion. She stayed in front of this mountain for more than five years in total. When it rained in the spring, she could see the fog on the mountain, flowing and thin. After the summer rain, Wu Meicheng once leaned against the window and closed his eyes to test the wind. It was autumn. After the rain, it was freezing cold. Wu Meicheng pushed the window and washed the guqin cover on the mountain. The black rain silk was dark, dark yellow, and black and dark green. She avoided the guqin wrap and returned to the five years ago. Mother and Wu Meicheng were very afraid of this mountain. The rain stopped in the late autumn, and they ran around in the two houses to close the windows, not daring to look outside. Now Wu Meicheng looked at the color blocks, feeling deserted and breathing fresh air. In winter, Wu Meicheng clipped her nails behind the snowy window, her feet and neck were sore and she lifted her neck to know it was snowing outside the window. At that time, the mother may also be behind, to pass through the large and long empty living room, to the small square kitchen, and she is in it.
It's called Ziwei Mountain.
Wang Yizhi looked at Wu Meicheng for a while, and Wu Meicheng just heard about Ziwei Mountain.
So shall we go for a walk? Wu Meicheng didn't lower his head, staring at the fog-like top that might be Shuihuai Mountain.
It looks flat at the bottom of the mountain, and there are ditches all the way up. The very dry and broken rocks will collapse at any time, depending on whether your steps are heavy or not. Wu Meicheng wanted to stop Wang Yizhi for a while, but he thought about it once. After that, he would rely on himself. He stepped on a small stone, like biting a tendon in his mouth. Each part was in pain, and half closed my eyes to persuade myself to chew it down. It was good to chew it, and then I slipped under my feet, my heart thumped to the bottom and bounced back to its original position. I felt a stable stone on the soles of my feet, although it was very stable, but it was stumbling because it was sudden. Tail, sole plate pantothenic acid, heart feels heavy.
But after this side, Wu Meicheng's Ziwei Mountain came back.
What is Wu Meicheng's Ziwei Mountain like? Wang Yizhi never knew. In fact, Wu Meicheng himself can't tell.
Open and green.
It can accommodate ten thousand people, and can hide the whole pine of one person.
Wu Meicheng felt something beyond her age.
A month later, Wu Meicheng moved to Ziwei Mountain and looked at Shuihuai Mountain from a distance.
The road between Shuihuai Mountain and Ziwei Mountain takes two hours by car.
Sometimes Wu Meicheng drove from east to west, and sometimes Wang Yizhi drove two hours and five minutes to find Wu Meicheng when the sun was rising in the west.
When Wu Meicheng arrived at the mountain where Wang Yizhi lived, he was often in the mist, which made Wang Yizhi young, and Wu Meicheng sometimes laughed when he saw it.
Every time Wang Yizhi came back to Ziwei Mountain, he only did one thing, leading Wu Meicheng to cross the mountain and recognize flowers and trees.
They were walking on the other side of the mountain, walking away, looking at the lavender flowers, the fine yellow grass, the three old locust trees, and the mother-in-law who spread to the ground floor.
There are also many flower trees. False holly, wild pine, small cypress, purple flower, honeysuckle, honeysuckle. One big eucalyptus, two eucalyptus, four, five, a whole mountain of green eucalyptus.
Floating purple, mane brown, milk green, golden yellow, water white.
Slowly passing, casual, Wu Meicheng thought of a distant child's cry, breaking the time and space, like passing through the valley and the sky, free and smooth, at least let him take a long breath, from the kidneys to the stomach to the lungs. Let Wu Meicheng live a year in one day.
Later, Wang Yizhi still painted, and Wu Mei became a public account writer.
Wu Meicheng passed the manuscript to Wang Yizhi, who corrected the habits of a certain plant for her, so the plant was associated with a heather family far away in Latin America. thinker's ideas.
Wang Yizhi will invite Wu Meicheng to see his latest paintings while watching Shuihuai Mountain. Regarding the world of Rubens that he is boldly developing, Wu Meicheng sometimes sees nothing for a long time, and Wang Yizhi does not interrupt. Wu Meicheng's memories, He waited, waiting for Wu Meicheng to leave briefly before returning to the house.
Sometimes it's late, there are a few bright lights on the mountain, glowing white, from the top of the file, winding and winding, to the foot of the mountain, and then all the way back to the mountain hut like a snake.
Wu Meicheng has lived in this mountain for a long time, maybe five years, or ten years. Sometimes I know it and sometimes I don't know it.
Wang Yizhi was even longer. He remembered it very well. It was a full fifteen years, with no fractions.
Because the hut was still there when he went down the mountain, Wu Meicheng felt scared when he thought of it, and then lamented that this emotion had disappeared for ten years. She dared not ask Wang Yizhi.
Wang Yizhi still drives at least twice a week to look for Wu Meicheng, watching cherry blossoms in spring, listening to golden lacewings in summer, walking after the rain in autumn, and staying in the house to bake a fire together in winter.
Wu Meicheng became very naive, not seeing Wang Yizhi only two or one day a week. In the coldest winter, he wrapped a dozen red-fleshed sweet potatoes in an old coat that he didn't wear but washed, and sent them over. The two of them ate and it was snowing heavily outside.
Goose feather snow.
This sometimes made Wu Meicheng think about the last morning at the beach with his mother that year, and it was also heavy, hissing in the air, sprinkled with coarse salt particles. Later, Wu Meicheng watched a French fantasy film and gradually understood that it was actually a kind of notification, connecting death and returning to the soul.
Wang Yizhi is 48 this year.
Wu Meicheng was 38.
Wang Yizhi decided to live like this, and Wu Meicheng's house remains unresolved.
Time is eternal. If there is no earthquake, the mountain should still be there. People believe in beauty.
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