The Story of Beijing Hutong 1

Fifteen years ago, I was born in an alley near the front door of Beijing, which runs through the north and south and connects the lives of thousands of families. I can't remember the specific name, but the harmonious atmosphere in the neighborhood is still printed in my mind.

It's not as famous as "Shijia Hutong, Sanyanjing Hutong". It's just an ordinary hutong, like a bond, which brings people together here. When I was two years old, I always lived in my grandfather's house-this hutong, due to the pressure of my parents' work. Sometimes I go across the hall to play, and sometimes I go next door. I only remember that the neighbors had haircuts-not the splendid high-level storefronts, but the stalls on the roadside a few dollars and a few cents ago; There are also people who sell vegetables and fruits-not clean and tidy fruit shops, but an old manned tricycle with a few planks on it and turned it into a truck to sell by bike. Early in the morning, as soon as the sky showed some fish-belly grey, they got up early to work with the cock crowing in some unknown place. Writing here is full of ordinary people, ordinary things. The ordinary that you can't recognize in the crowd, and the ordinary that you can't remember in the memory.

a sunny summer is a good opportunity to go out and play. Grandpa went to the newsstand a few blocks away, and grandma talked with her neighbors in the yard. I am not willing to stay at home like this and look at the lock of the gate-it is a golden opportunity! I quietly pushed open the door and got out of the yard.

when I was over two years old, I stopped and stopped until my eyes became strange. I slipped into a small shop on the side of the road to have a rest. It' s beautiful to be leisurely and carefree!

when the boss heard the sound, he saw that it was just a child who came out to play, so he returned to the house. Look at me from time to time to make sure I'm still here.

just as I was taking a leisurely nap, the two old people at home were already sweating and anxious. In the hot summer sun, under the scorching sun, they asked around their neighbors for clues. They were very enthusiastic and didn't leave until they reached the corner of the path. Finally, they found me there. What happened later is unclear, but I can often hear grandma talking about how enthusiastic and helpful her neighbors are. While speaking, his brow also stretched for a few minutes. I often feel a sense of regret for them.

an ordinary little thing done by ordinary people in an ordinary alley has become an extraordinary thing that lingers in my heart.

When reading Camel Xiangzi, there are many descriptions of the Beijing flavor of hutong, and the words written by Lao She are so vivid and lifelike. But it is very close to the book, but far away from the memory.

The last time I went to Hutong was this winter vacation. Four members of the group came to Nanluoguxiang. In my eyes, it is just an empty shell with the name of "Hutong". This hutong has delicious food and anime shop, but it lacks those ordinary people and ordinary things. But it became a tourist attraction in one fell swoop and became extraordinary.

The story in Beijing Hutong is still on, and it is still being written. But with the change of years, many things have faded out of sight. I don't know how many ordinary people can stack up the extraordinary. I only know that the extraordinary share that belongs to my heart lasts forever and is engraved in my heart. After thirteen years, I want to say loudly to my old neighbors, "Thank you!" Story 2 in Beijing Hutong

"Yo! Uncle Wang, you are busy! " "Well, busy! Xiao Wang, you come back so early, take care of the children! " "Well, I've been busy recently, and I rarely have time to look after my children. When Taotao has grown up, no one can look after him." After that, Xiao Wang rode away by bike in a hurry, and was not busy greeting the neighbors on the way.

Chuanzi Hutong has a short history, but it is very popular. You can meet people everywhere, no matter when. Office workers who come and go in the morning, aunts who wander around the bay at noon, not to mention at night. When Xiao Wang came home, he saw a child running in the courtyard, but he couldn't find a good balance because he ran too fast and fell to the ground. Yes, the child in front of me is Taotao, whose name is Wang Xueliang. When Xiao Wang saw his child fall to the ground, he was very distressed. He ran over and picked him up and asked, "Does it hurt?" "it hurts!" "It doesn't matter, it won't hurt if you rub it!" "Come on, grandma, give me a candy." It was Uncle Wang's wife, Aunt Sun, who spoke, because they had no children under their knees and Xiao Wang happened to be an orphan. Therefore, Aunt Sun naturally regarded these two fathers as her own sons and grandchildren. Although they were not a family, they were better than a family. In this way, the "family" lives in laughter.

Ten years later, Aunt Sun became ill. Uncle Wang sold all his possessions to treat Aunt Sun, but the money was still not enough. Xiao Wang also gave money, hoping that Aunt Sun would get better soon, but it didn't happen. Aunt Sun died. Before she died, she said to Xiao Wang, "Xiao Wang! I understand that I can't last long, but before I die, I want to go back to Chuanzi Hutong, and Xiao Wang did, and Aunt Sun was very happy. On that day, she left and walked peacefully. A few years later, Uncle Wang also died, and many neighbors in the hutong moved away, and their wish was to go back and have a look.

Twenty years later, Hutong began to be demolished, and Xiao Wang was no longer Xiao Wang but Lao Wang, and Taotao also grew up. One day, Taotao helped his father to look back at the old hutong, where people were no longer coming and going, but the red word "demolition" on the wall made Lao Wang sigh and went back. That night, Lao Wang had a dream. In the dream, he seemed to go back to the old hutong and saw Aunt Sun and Uncle Wang. They laughed so peacefully ... Story in Beijing Hutong 3

The hutong in old Beijing inherits the historical context, and Nanluoguxiang is one of the old hutongs.

People say that Beijingers don't like to go to famous tourist attractions, but I have a soft spot for Nanluoguxiang. My childhood memories pushed it from the bottom of the sea to the beach.

Maybe when I was 4 or 5 years old, my mother was so excited that she wanted to take me to Nanluoguxiang. At that time, I was full of curiosity about some things. I met it when I was young. The ancient courtyard houses with gray-black color, quiet streets, and occasional shade ..... All these quiet things have made me like quiet, and my goodwill for it has doubled. At this time, Nanluoguxiang was quiet, but it was also rich, full of primitive simplicity and human culture. The quiet heart that had been searching for a long time met Nanluoguxiang. There, full of the nature and tranquility in the thick old hutong.

nowadays, I often go to nanluoguxiang. And every time I go, I can't find the original feeling anymore. I know that in today's prosperous Beijing, that kind of scene will never appear again.

I've been looking forward to the trip of one or several people to Nanluoguxiang, expecting that I can experience the tranquility in a moment, even if it's only a moment, in these tens of thousands of attempts.

During the May Day holiday, I went to Nanluoguxiang alone. It was still the same, an ancient quadrangle with occasional shade, but the quiet street was replaced by tourists from all over the world. And those modern shops that didn't exist before are constantly emerging-creative clothes, fancy coffee, desserts, milk tea, yogurt and so on, everything. But there are not many old Beijing foods left. These commercial shops have hidden the simplicity of Nanluoguxiang. I walked silently into the sea of people, and what I felt was not excitement, but loneliness from the inside out. In fact, I just found out that sometimes the excitement is only superficial, and no amount of lonely people in my heart can change it. Although this Nanluoguxiang is lively, it is far from what I am looking for.

During the winter vacation, walking with classmates, Nanluoguxiang is sparsely populated because of the cold, and it has some quiet atmosphere. And the music released by various small shops, in my opinion, is basically commercial, purely to attract customers, without the feeling of that year. My heart is still thinking about the quiet street of my childhood. It is quiet, and it can only be regarded as quiet.

Nowadays, Beijing is developing rapidly, but its ancient flavor is falling day by day. I can't catch up with its development with my bare feet. There are many high-rise buildings ahead, and when I look back, it's deserted.

However, I can't catch up with the pace of Beijing's development, but in my heart forever can't forget my meeting with Beijing's old hutong. On the surface, it has stopped, but in fact it continues! Story 4 in Beijing Hutong

Hutong, this place sounds different from other buildings, and this unique place is accompanying me from birth to now. It is for this reason that Hutong has been given a different meaning in my heart. Every day, people and hutongs create different stories for each other, and so do I.

I remember that when I was stumbling, I clung to my mother's hand, and thousands of people were dragged into an unknown place reluctantly. However, I saw uneven small stone bricks reflecting their own shadows on the ground, fluffy mosses standing slim on the stone steps, and red lanterns on the eaves like being greeted by the sun. At that time, I looked up at my mother, and the word "Hutong" was spit out from the gentle and curved corners of my mouth. This is my first impression of hutong. Mother's hair is printed as bright and mature reddish brown as glass in the high sunlight.

I graduated from kindergarten, and I'm going to a strange place-primary school. Strangeness makes me uneasy, but once I get to the hutong and feel my mother's temperature, I am not afraid of anything. At the moment when my body clung to my mother's back, it made me believe that the love between me and my mother was like the temperature on the wall of the hutong, which would never stop. Even if night came, the morning sun would shine on the wall.

"Mom, I'm tired!" I clung to my mother's hand, perhaps because I had walked for too long. I wanted to ask her for a comfort, but I didn't expect her to sit on the stone steps in front of the alley and motioned me to go up to her back. I held the stone steps with my hands, and my whole body was attached to the stone steps. I felt the wonder of the cool stone steps with residual temperature in an instant. Two pairs embraced my skin, and the residual temperature, like blood, ran through my body from the tip. I climbed on my mother's back, and the temperature of that back continued to spread on me, which was more like the temperature of love.

I will be tall, and my two little hands will keep touching the wall of the alley. I feel its hardness and straightness, which makes me feel the same sense of security when I am with my mother. For a while, I held out my hands to intercept the lanterns overhead, and for a while, I held out my small hands to reach grandpa's sugar man on the side of the road. From time to time, I hooked my hands to my mother's hair and greeted two reproaches that I couldn't hear clearly.

Now, I took my mother to the hutong. At this time, there were bookstores and cafes in it, but we found an unusual bench to sit down. Talking about the things we are interested in, and perhaps which small stone step I tripped over here when I was a child, I looked at the willow tree sticking out of the small bungalow in front of me and listened to a string of ringing car bells passing by my ears, so I didn't have to think about it to know that there must be sugar-coated haws behind it. I suddenly grabbed my mother's hand. Oh, my God, what's going on? Why are there so many cracked places? I can't believe I never knew. I looked at my mother, who smiled and said nothing. Mom's hair was lifted by a breeze, which must have run through every corner of the alley. Silver threads floated out of my brown hair and flashed in my eyes.

The story between me and Hutong is like the love with my mother. Even if it is sometimes cold, the blood flow in the body will never stop, from the tip to the heart. The temperature of the hutong will always stay on my mother's back and in my heart. Story 5 in Beijing Hutong

This used to be my home. I, my father, my grandfather and my family have had unforgettable or warm stories with it.

when I was a child, I felt that the hutong where my home was located could lead to anywhere. Whether it is a road or a small shop, this hutong seems to have magic, which can lead to every corner of the world.

This hutong is called Wudaowan Hutong. Just like its vivid name, it really has five corners and finally leads to the main road. And my home is at the end of the first turn, which is a small quadrangle.

around the corner, it's a path about fifteen meters. The roofs on both sides are covered with crumbling tiles, and the brick roads are "one after another" at the foot. At the beginning of the second turn, there are two round stone piers, half embedded in the wall. One is lying and the other is standing. I still remember when I was a child, I was not as tall as a stone pier, clamoring for my mother to hold me on the "observation deck", pretending to look around, and then jumping from a height. That's the fun of children. Now that I have grown up, when I pass there again, I will only hear my father say that the stone pier was originally used by someone to grind noodles, and then I will try my best to identify the already blurred patterns on the stone pier.

the third turn is short, but it looks like five or six meters. But in the middle of the aisle, which is not spacious, there is a bodhi tree standing upright. In summer, I often buy a popsicle from a small shop and go to that tree with wide and dense branches and leaves to eat. But this tree has also brought some small troubles to people. Dad once told me when he passed here. When he was a child, he and his classmates often rode through this alley. Once riding a bike, he didn't remember that there was another tree here when he turned the corner, so he just rushed over and went through the gap between the tree and the wall. Looking back afterwards is also a cold sweat.

I'm afraid to take the fourth and fifth turn alone. Because there is a family living at the corner of the fourth and fifth turn, and there is also a dog, and the door is often open for dogs to come in and out freely.

In the past, Wudaowan Hutong was connected with Shijiakeng Hutong in front and Luke Hutong in the back, but now, the front and back Hutong are gone, leaving only a Wudaowan. Maybe soon, it will disappear without a trace. Not only disappear from people's sight, but also from people's memory. It is not only an alley that has disappeared, but also its name, the memory it once had, and the Beijing culture hidden in the depths of the alley. This hutong has existed since my grandpa's time. Maybe my grandpa's father and grandpa's grandfather have been here, witnessing the changes of the times. Every generation in our family used to play here.

If Wudaowan Hutong disappears, it will be a regret in my life. My childhood is gone. If the five bends branded with memory no longer exist, how many years later, can I still think of it?

Hutong inherits memories, spreads culture and conveys the folk customs of China for 5, years. This is my former home, the story in Wudaowan Hutong.