It was not until I fell in love with a Beijing girl that I seemed to be involved in another life in this city. At first, I didn't care about her family background I just think her clothes are not gorgeous but clean. Her tone is smooth and her accent is strong. She likes to use some vivid local sayings (such as half-jokingly calling me "weak", which is half-derogatory and half-praising), which is obviously different from the Mandarin I hear every day. It's just a silvery sound. I soon fainted in this music. I soon got up the courage to chase her.
I remember the first time I kissed her in the shadow at the corner of the stairs. She broke free and called me a "bad guy" helplessly, but she soon forgave me. She soon regarded me as a candidate for love and asked me to do something intimate from time to time. One Christmas, after watching an evening movie, she dared not walk alone at night and asked me to take her home. The bus we transferred to went south and finally stopped at a platform called Baizhifang. I can roughly recall the location of this place name on the map until I reach the south of the city (the old things in the south of the city are quite famous). This is my first time to walk into the "old quarter" in the south of the city and into the ancient maze built by hutongs and quadrangles. This is the first time I feel the impact and touch from architecture, accompanied by a Beijing girl with a crisp Beijing accent.
This is also my first love since I came to Beijing. Young love and ancient architecture are inadvertently arranged by fate, which is not inferior, because they are also things that pursue immortality in the world. My girlfriend asked me to press her key with a lighter to open the door. I glanced at the house number by the light of the fire: "No.28, Cherry Hutong, Baizhifang East Street", which was simply an ancient poem hanging over my head.
This is also the title of my first love after I came to Beijing. Then we successfully entered the interior of one of many quadrangles with the same shape. Standing in the dark courtyard with pomegranate trees, you can see the lights on in the front room and your girlfriend's family is sitting in the living room waiting for her to come back.
My girlfriend introduced me to her family as friends. Her mother first said gratefully that if she knew I was escorting her, she wouldn't have to worry. Then she called me to sit down on the cane chair, set a small handleless wine cup on the low coffee table, and picked up the teapot to pour tea. I took a sip and found it was jasmine tea, which is the favorite drink of old Beijingers. During my tea tasting, her mother kept looking at me with flashing eyes. After her father nodded, he just smiled and sat cross-legged on the sofa listening to Peking Opera in the semiconductor. Later, when he often went to her house, he found that her father didn't talk much, and most of his contacts were simple and honest with a smile (this seemed to be the only expression on his face), but he was an obsessed fan. The greatest enjoyment in his life seems to be keeping birds, watering flowers and humming some Peking Opera in his own yard-for him, this is sunshine. At that time, I thought her father had the will of a flag bearer. Later, when asked, it was really Manchu. And like Lao She, ancestors all belong to the red flag.
It was after midnight after drinking tea that day, and the bus was blocked. My girlfriend's mother insisted that I stay until dawn, and said that the empty west wing was specially used to receive visiting relatives and friends for the night: "You have never lived in a quadrangle, have you?" Then stay for one night. "Her kindness and enthusiasm suddenly brought me closer. The decoration of the west wing room is very simple, only an old carved wooden bed and a few pieces of old furniture, but like other rooms, it has a floor heating pipe (the kitchen is heated by honeycomb coal), which is very warm and in sharp contrast to the whistling northwest wind outside. I was a little insomnia that night because of the happiness of love that fell from the sky? Because the heating is too hot? Or is it because of the strange sleeping environment?
This is really my first night in the traditional houses in old Beijing, and it is also my first antique dream. This house is much older than mine. It is like a gentle old man, caring for the heart of a wanderer. After turning off the lights, I still smell the stagnant past, an ancient smell from the darkness. I spent Christmas Eve in a classical quadrangle. This is a unique story of the West Chamber that happened in Beijing. I tossed and turned like Zhang Sheng, thinking of Yingying separated by a wall and Yingying separated by a piece of paper. Especially now, it seems like a lifetime. After all, this is a once brilliant but ultimately failed love, just like a rocket running out of fuel and falling halfway, and burning shrapnel flying in the ocean like a meteor shower. This is the ocean in my heart.
The next morning, my girlfriend took me to visit the rooms one by one to learn about the structure of the quadrangle. The eaves are covered with grass, and the goldfish pond built at the foot of the wall is covered with mottled moss. She said that her grandfather was born in this quadrangle, which shows that her family roots are rooted here. In short, although the courtyard is slightly decadent, every brick and tile still reveals the dignity and luxury of the past. She pointed to the pomegranate tree in the yard and said that it was planted by her father the day she was born, and now the wind is as cool as a slim girl. This also explains that old Beijing residents always like to plant several pomegranate trees and at least two jujube trees in quadrangles. I clearly heard an ancient style from the rustling of leaves. The ancient style still exists. I suddenly found that people living in quadrangles are definitely the residents closest to the city's past.
This is a long love. I have dated my girlfriend countless times and sent her home countless times. I have walked through that winding alley countless times, as if I had traveled back and forth to the history and reality of Beijing for countless times. I seem to be both a master of reality and a guest of history. I used to be a guest in Beijing, and I couldn't hear all about the past in the south of the city. My girlfriend's daily life is very frugal, but whenever I go, I am always invited to eat instant-boiled mutton hotpot (and I don't need an electric stove, I prefer the one that burns charcoal). The steaming hot pot made the world smaller. My girlfriend's mother likes to recall her family tree at the dinner table. She finally met the audience from far away, and the audience was curious about everything she described.
With more contact, I gradually understand the outline of the life of the old citizens in Beijing. They breathe an ancient atmosphere, just like being vividly displayed in an ancient concept of time. They are always so poor, gentle and upright, and they are a little helpless in the face of the rapid development of reality. In the ever-changing Beijing, if we are immigrants, they are adherents, bearing the shadow of a broad tradition. They live in a bungalow burning honeycomb coal, like to eat beef and mutton, drink jasmine tea and Erguotou, listen to Beijing opera, raise birds or goldfish, talk about state affairs, and especially like to recall the past. Compared with their present age, they belong to old citizens with psychological coordinates, and subconsciously pretend to be their masters, taking a bite of "za Beijing" ...
This kind of love is equivalent to giving me a lesson, a folk lesson in Beijing. But just before the bell rang, my girlfriend and I broke up for various reasons. True love may produce the most beautiful flowers, but it is difficult to bear complete fruits. The creator may have arranged this on purpose. After a long time, they will interrupt each other. Many years later, I happened to pass by Baizhifang on a business trip, and I was surprised to find that the quadrangle was razed to the ground, and a butterfly-shaped interchange bridge rose nearby. My girlfriend's house has been demolished, right? Are the old buildings in this area in ruins with my love? Wandering on the unrecognizable love website, am I looking for the shadow of the past or my own shadow? The white paper mill has become a blank sheet of paper again. All the scenery on paper is collected by years. I always thought that everything was intact in this corner of the distant city, but the world changed much faster than I thought.
After returning to China, I consulted relevant historical materials: "Baizhifang is an old lane in the southwest corner of Beijing. In the history of Beijing's urban construction, it was one of the eight lanes in Cheng Nan in the late Ming Dynasty, which was demarcated with the expansion of the city wall. It may be named because the residents there deal in more paper-making handicrafts. Until the 1930s and 1940s, the area around Chongzhen Temple in Baizhifang was still the place where handmade paper-making and fishing workshops lived. So far, the old residents of Cheng Nan will talk a lot. " I once liked Bai Zhifang's daughter. It seems that my life is destined to be accompanied by paper. This is fate, but there is no chance. Including today, drawing an increasingly blurred picture of past love on paper. Love separated by a piece of paper is farther than a wall and farther than a lifetime.
Seeing that Beijing girls are suitable for walking around the streets, and it is best to walk on the streets in cold winter. Because of her tall figure, Huntress's clothing with leather boots, windbreaker or down jacket can best set off her charm. If your face is red with cold, it's more like walking and joking with candied haws in your hand, which adds a little childlike interest. Seeing their long hair fluttering head-on, the whole winter scenery suddenly becomes warm and lively, and you will subconsciously give way sideways.
It seems that the road for girls in Beijing should always be unimpeded, a golden belt that can sing and dance. Even if they wander in the open streets (and all public places), they are as happy as they are in their own families. They have actually regarded themselves as the hostesses of this city (a group of young hostesses). So they look at everything around them (whether it's government buildings, five-star hotels, palaces of former emperors or embassies in Europe and the United States), and their eyes are flat. You can hardly find admiration, admiration, curiosity and surprise in their eyes. I seem to have seen all the worlds I should see. So there are almost no real groupies in Beijing. Perhaps one of their acquaintances is a big star, or they often have the opportunity to bump into stars in shopping malls, bars, concert halls or hotels, which has reached a state of indifference.
It was winter when I first came to Beijing. The girl in the street gave me such a first impression. From then on, I thought of Beijing girls and thought they were the most generous. If you prefer static beauty, you'd better look for Jiangnan women as elegant as gardens. The style of Beijing girls is always natural and graceful, even a little careless. They are not flowers in a greenhouse, but they seem to be born outdoors. They are closest to the sun, maintaining a tall and straight figure and healthy skin color. In this sense, they are the most typical ladies in China (different from Xiaojiabiyu). They are the daughters of the capital, and they have a broad vision and extraordinary self-confidence that women from other provinces rarely have.
They don't believe in myths, but only in themselves. Believe that where you are is the center of the world. They really regard Beijing as their parents. Just as they know that a series of famous buildings pass by on their way to work every day, Tiananmen Square, the Great Hall of the People and CCTV are the roofs of this huge country. This is how the so-called aristocratic temperament of Beijing girls is cultivated. What is particularly commendable is that they are not arrogant in nobility, and even a little chivalrous. They are generous, generous, crisp and neat when dealing with people and things, do not hide their views, stress principles and hate evil, perhaps influenced by their fathers and brothers? Sima Qian has long said: Zhao Yan is more generous and sad.
Naturally, contemporary Beijing girls are different from Princess Zhu Huan in Qing Dynasty. Wang Ye's daughter Gege is also associated with Lao She's Camel Xiangzi: Tigress in the movie is different. No matter whether they grew up in an alley or lived in an office building compound, once they walk in the street, their expressions are always so calm, and you can't see the shadow of the past from their eyes, as if they have been integrated with this modern city when they reach a mature age. Beijing is their common blood. Don't think that girls are just street scenes and duckweeds on the water. Their temperament and Beijing spirit are unified.
The bus is very crowded. Or in other social occasions, I like to listen to Beijing girls, whose pronunciation is standard and clear, just like an announcer. Besides, I can always talk about everything, and it is happy to settle down in Beijing. I can listen to this charming broadcast with my own ears every day. Beijing girls' conversation style is very distinctive. Everything they say is like personal experience, and there is no lack of sense of humor to adjust it. This is simply literary brushwork. Beijing dialect and Beijing rhyme are especially suitable for such rendering. Influenced by their fathers and brothers, Beijingers are famous for their eloquence.
I went to work in a publishing house in Beijing. In the first year, I exercised at school. The proofreading department is all female compatriots. I laugh nonstop every day. I learned their eloquence and left a heroic legacy in the Spring and Autumn Period and the Warring States Period. Sharp conversation makes you a little painful and itchy: you still feel a little numb and happy after being pricked, and you will admire this wisdom more and more: how do they find so many jokes from life, from themselves and others?
Beijing girls are glib, and there is also a fast-moving gear in their brains, which allows their thoughts to participate, which synchronizes their language and thoughts. This shows that Beijing girls are born for happiness.
They hold the philosophy of happiness. Happiness is the highest value of his life. Regard fame and fortune as clouds, but take happiness as the soul. So Beijing girls give me the impression that they are not only confident, but also optimistic. Are they optimistic because of self-confidence, or are they optimistic because of optimism? I never found the exact answer. Therefore, their self-confidence and optimism are also harmonious, just like they are born with it. I can only sum it up as the contribution of the city: as the daughters of Beijing, it is the city that endows them with the same personality characteristics as themselves, making them sunny women with almost no melancholy and shadow. After all, they grew up in sunny days, clear, true and transparent, just like water and mirrors, even the sky. When you get along with girls who have the quality of water and mirrors, you will be very relaxed and won't have too many psychological obstacles. Their confidence and optimism can easily infect you, as if you feel the same way. In this city, you always feel the weather is fine.
Beijing girls are the best companions for watching movies, falling in love, shopping, chatting, performing short plays, business cooperation and even traveling. Especially when listening to her talk about love with you in standard Mandarin, you will have an original feeling. Why is it like music prose? Perhaps, this Beijing girl herself is a plain woman. Lyric, argumentative and narrative are all suitable.