1. Introduction:

Zhang Xiaofeng, born in Tongshan, Jiangsu in 1941, was born in Jinhua, Zhejiang. After the age of eight, he went to Taiwan, graduated from Soochow University in Taiwan Province, taught there and elsewhere, and is now a professor at Yangming Medical College in Taiwan Province. She believes deeply in religion and loves writing. There are thirty or forty kinds of novels, essays and dramas, which have been reprinted once and translated into various languages. In the mid-196s, she became famous for her prose. In 1977, her works were included in the Selected Works of Top Ten Prose Writers in Taiwan Province. The editor said that "her works are China's, homesick, and modern, and she is extremely humane." . Yu Guangzhong once called his writing "soft and gentle with strength" and listed it as "a famous essayist of the third generation". Some people call it "the pen is like the heat of the sun, the frost and snow are innocent, the articles are fragrant with cold plums, and the words are like knocking on the ice." Are highly appraised.

2. Some works

stand out

1. A storyteller

A storyteller in a cave.

It's actually just a photo, but I was awed by it.

It's a small island in the south of the Philippines, one of a thousand petals falling like flowers. In 1971, it was discovered by chance that the upper

surface was actually inhabited by the inhabitants of the Stone Age. This small group of ignorant people also like to listen to stories. In the photo, a group of people are sitting in the

cave. Maybe it's evening. Everyone is sitting on a stake, and the place where the eyes meet is the storyteller. He sat

a little higher than others, with his hands half raised at the level of his head, and there was some kind of enthusiasm in his eyes. The inscription next to him was:

-a storyteller in a cave-

What made me freeze for a moment and couldn't take my eyes off? It's the eyes! Tellers and listeners alike

have awe, fear, compassion, anxiety and helplessness in their eyes. After a small story,

all the vicissitudes and feelings are performed one by one-laughter and tears are the end of the story.

On a distant island, a comfortable cave, and a long summer night, the early people of the stone tools generation were obsessed with

a story.

and me? I'm not crazy because I have a story to tell people, and I'm not crazy because I want to listen to other people's stories-I'm a quiet tourist, standing in the museum, crazy because the speaker and the listener are the same.

-in the cave, a storyteller.

1. Asking for debts

"She must be getting older and older, stooping more and more, saddening more and hating poison ..."

That was the feeling every time I thought about her a few years ago, but in recent years, I stopped thinking like this. What I thought was:

"She must be dead. I don't know how she died? Anyway, she must be dead. What was her expression < P > when she died? She's not pursuing it anymore? Can't she close her eyes until she dies? "

I met her about twelve years ago.

At that time, I happened to have a meeting in Hong Kong. On an early winter morning, I was in a good mood because of the meeting. I wandered along the street and bought an English-language South China Daily. When the newspaper was unfolded, her wailing came upon me. I was stunned by this < P > face, and for a moment I froze by the road, feeling like a child who urgently needed some mage to take my breath away.

I didn't tell an old belly that was so sad and miserable, with withered hair and flailing hands, and her facial features were distorted like the collapse and deformation after the earthquake.

She burst into tears and burst into tears on a street that had not yet woken up because it was too early.

who is she? What happened to her? Why was she so upset? Over the years, the education of Chinese Department has intentionally or unintentionally meant "gentle and sincere", which made me believe that complaining without anger and sorrow without injury is a better realm. However, this old woman's face

is not a melodious bell or a chord. She is a stunning sound of smashing a bronze bell and breaking an ancient piano, and it is a loud horn that makes people feel sick

and hurt their liver.

The story written in that newspaper goes like this:

There is a "debt collection meeting" in Hong Kong, which was initiated by some victims in the Sino-Japanese War, and every year, they ask Japan to be helpless and ask them to compensate their losses.

That woman is a peddler, selling meat dumplings. At Mong Kok Railway Station, her son died during the war. Every year, she cries

for repayment.

I stood on the side of the road, reading the difficult language for me word by word, and the more difficult message behind the language

. I come from a college, and if such an event is sent to the institute, it will be a master's thesis or doctoral thesis of the Institute of History, the title of which I also know is "The mentality of the victims in East Asia after the Sino-Japanese War". Moreover, in order to be objective, the author of the paper will soon publish another article entitled "A Study on the Pro-Japanese Mentality of Asian People after World War II",

and all the papers add up to form a thick book, which I expected was called "A Study on the Relationship between Asian People and Japan after World War II".

scholars sometimes have great compassion, but they are often cruel because of their calmness! At this moment, the reporter may be praised by the editor for taking this masterpiece < P >. The academician in the research institute is asking an assistant to edit and file the materials, but who will accompany the woman to cry? Who will

compensate the woman's son? Who's going to make the history of later generations in the world not repeat itself, and don't let another dying woman cry for her son who died in the war?

I can't, I can only walk away in tears. From now on, avoid going to Mong Kok. When you have to go, never go near the railway station, but

lower your head and look back to avoid seeing any vendors. I am afraid of meeting the old woman. I can face the number of casualties recorded in the history textbook about the history of the Anti-Japanese War, but I can't face a dead mother, a living mother who is old and childless.

It's just a photo on the newsstand, but she is always in my heart, and, like a real person, she is getting old and shrinking day by day.

What happened to her later? In fact, there is no "later" for her, and it is doomed that she will not be able to claim the debt. She owes too much, so that all the ancient temples in Nara, Kyoto, can recite the scriptures for a hundred years, and all the consortia such as Panasonic, Suzuki and Toyota will lose their money.

It can't compensate a woman's son! Even if a woman in the world is so bad that she falls into a nose hell, like Mrs. Qingti in the Tang Dynasty,

when she hears her son Mu Lian coming, she can't help crying, "My one-inch intestines!"

The great debts in the world, no matter how great or great, can't be repaid! Did the old woman selling zongzi in Mong Kok < P > swallow her tears and die? Emperor Hirohito can't pay back your son! So he can only wander in the imperial garden and meditate among the red pistils and green leaves, and finally become an insect expert, which is ridiculous! Tens of millions of China's dead turned into a sea of blood and bones, and hundreds of millions of China's living people cried into a column of tears, just for a name, and that name is now elegantly alive and associated with insects. Emperor, don't study insects, okay? Study creditors who are more humble than worms in your eyes!

it would be nice if things in the world could be claimed and compensated, but they can't! Not for life, not for life! Has the old

woman finally been released by grief? Or is she still talking about her lost son?

Zhang Xiaofeng's classic prose

A kind word

When I was a child, adults always asked us to say auspicious words, but it was half a lifetime. One day, I had to teach my children to say auspicious words, and I suddenly realized that there were really good words in this world, which made people think endlessly, but they were not such things as "promotion", "making money" and "adding more money". On a winter night, I remembered a sentence without

from the fragrance of ginkgo.

1.

Do you like fat meat? Or lean meat?

The story was told by a young maid named Amy. I was eight years old that year. She was forgetful and told these

stories over and over again, which she found very pleasant. The story was like this:

There was a man who owed money to others, and he never paid it back until the Spring Festival, because there was no money. Later, the

creditor was unhappy, and he was unwilling, so when it was time for the New Year's Eve dinner, he secretly ran to the home where he owed money, hiding in the door

to eavesdrop, and wanted to know whether he really had no money or not. When he heard that dinner was ready, the debtor said,

"This year's Spring Festival, let's have a big meal. Do you children like to eat fat meat? Or lean meat? "

(By the way, this is an old story. The fat meat and lean meat were all delicious in those days. )

The creditor stood outside the door, listening clearly and dying of anger. He thought to himself, you owe me money, which makes it inconvenient for me to celebrate the New Year.

You used to have fat meat and lean meat to eat! When he was angry, he rushed into the room and wanted to show him face to face. When he ran to the table, he saw that there was no meat, only a bowl of radish and a bowl of sweet potato. The person who owed money stood up and said, "There is no way, after

years, radish is fat, and sweet potato is lean, just a child!"

It turns out that their fat meat is white radish and their lean meat is red sweet potato. They are really poor. Their creditors relented, and they gave up their money. They ran home for the New Year.

Many years have passed, and this story always comes back to my ears automatically every time I eat New Year's Eve. Obviously, it is an old story that is not

timely, but how good the poor father's words are. He has to overcome difficulties, keep his manners, but he has no money, but only

needs to care for each other, and the roots of vegetables have their own fat flavor!

when the banquet of life is extremely cold and frugal, when the pass is extremely narrow and sad, I still have to cheer up and say to myself:

"Hey, do you like fat meat? Or lean meat? "

2.

I like to spend the same time with you.

He went to Europe for a meeting, then transferred to the United States, and didn't go home until two months later. I met him at the airport and reminded him, "Please pull out your watch,

it will take Taiwan Province time now."

He paused and said,

"My watch has always been Taiwan Province time! I didn't dial it at all! "

"how inconvenient that is!"

"It's nothing. I didn't know what you were doing with the children until I stayed in Taiwan Province. I can only imagine that now you are eating, now you are sleeping, and now you are up ... I like to spend the same time with you."

It's been ten years since he said that, but it's like an embroidered brocade hanging on the threshold. The bright background has gone through years, but

I still recognize it as a strong fire. He and I, just ordinary men and women in the world, are doomed to be people with no plot to tell, but in a light sentence that we met after a long separation, there is also my gratitude that I have been shocked all my life.

3.

Good coffee is always in a hot cup!

When passing through Rome, a new friend insisted on taking us for coffee

.

"It's delicious, and you'll never forget it!"

We followed him around the streets. The streets made of stones are beautiful and complicated. After walking for a long time, people will forget

their destination and think they are out stepping on stones.

suddenly, a strong smell of coffee came over, and I naturally knew that the coffee shop had arrived without the guidance of the owner.

Coffee is put in a small white porcelain cup. The white porcelain is very thick, and it has a sense of steadiness compared with the thin porcelain that people in China love.

. Everyone in the shop is absorbed in coffee, and there is no distraction.

The waiter took out the cup for us from a special warmer. I held it in my hand and couldn't help being surprised.

"Gee, this cup itself is hot!"

The waiter turned, bowed slightly and said, "Lady, good coffee is always in a hot cup!" "

His expression is neither excited nor arrogant, and even there is no exaggeration in advertising. He is just saying a

sentence that is just natural.

Yes, good coffee should always be poured into a hot cup. A cold cup will cool the coffee, and the aroma will be eroded

if you want to think about it. In fact, isn't it true for good tea and good wine?

It turns out that even "things" are so proud of themselves. The good birds in Zhuangzi choose branches to live, and the sword in western stories is deep in the stone, waiting for the hero to pull it out, which is a luxury of all things and refuses to insult themselves easily. The ancient Zen master

learned about all beings from drinking tea and feeding porridge. I don't know what the coffee waiter at the other end of the street in Rome has to tell me. I

wish myself to be a mellow after thousands of studies and careful pouring into a white and warm thick porcelain cup to drive a beautiful morning.

4.

We will grow old together in the future.

actually, the meeting that day was very serious, as if it was about the research and development of the school.

A teacher stood up and said,

"We are a new school. When teachers come in, they are all as young. If they are going to be old in the future, we will be old together ..."

I heard this, and it was a bitter attack. Don't look away quickly, so as not to let others see the tears-I never thought that

the accidental fate between colleagues could be like this. Everyone in the college is busy on weekdays. Some analyze

herbs, some dissect puppies, some take students for surgery, and some are burying a classic ... The research scope is far apart, and most families are too busy to take care of others. However, in the annual cicada singing in the back of the mountain, in the waves of class bells, and in the rhythm of acacia fragrance all over the mountain platform, we will eventually grow old and hand over our youth together.

⒌

You have grown up and are going to be a man!

When I was in college, Mr. Wang's home was often visited. They had no children. I read "Hua Jian Ci" from him there,

sang Kunqu opera with his flute, and stayed to eat warm mutton shabu-shabu ...

After graduating from college, I became a teaching assistant, and I still often went there. Once, I went to my teacher

to write me a business card in order to get a little discount. When the business card was written, I took it and looked at it. I couldn't help shouting:

"Teacher, you made a mistake. How did you write' Kindly introduce my colleague Zhang Xiaofeng'? You should write' Student Zhang Xiaofeng'!"

The teacher took my business card, looked at me and said slowly,

"I didn't write it wrong, you don't understand, that's what I wrote. You used to be my student, and you will be privately in the future.

But now we are in a school, I am a teaching assistant, I am a professor, and although we are teachers in different classes, we are not the same.

What is it? You don't want a child's temper to change. Now that you're grown up, you're going to be a man. I write you as a colleague to make a face for you. Otherwise, you'll always be a classmate. When will you become an adult? Remember, when you grow up, you have to be a man! "

that day, I took my teacher's business card to buy books and got a satisfactory discount. As for how much money I saved, I have long forgotten

, but what I can't forget is the words on the back of the business card. Until that moment, I knew from the teacher's love that

I shared the respect and honor with scholars and elders. I may not look like a teacher's colleague, but I am indeed a teacher's colleague.

there is a saying that makes me grow up overnight.

When I was a student, I read a sentence by my predecessors commenting on Xie Lingyun, saying,

"Xie Wuyan's poems are as lovely as the first hibiscus."

I thought that such a beautiful sentence was even more touching than the poem itself. Later, I read the words and saw Wang Guowei and Na Wen.