Sometimes, Lin Ruoshan would think of his younger days — his childhood, his teenage years.
His youth.
Just like the children of most official families in this era,
His childhood was lifeless.
His father was busy being an official,
His eldest brother was busy reading. Men didn't care about children. Men who were officials,
And the children in the house were separated by the ends of the earth. They only had a distant glance.
The dignified inquiry corresponded to the respectful etiquette,
To show family affection.
Since he was three years old,
He had to read. His father said that the glory had gradually fallen on the lintel.
This was the square sky of the narrow courtyard under the high wall.
The little child sat alone on a chair in the study,
There were no agile birds,
There were no fragrant flowers, no gorgeous butterflies,
There were no snacks of all colors, no toys,
No playmates —
After Master Meng reported it, his father secretly kept the only toy he had — a grasshopper,
It was trampled on in front of him.
There was no scolding,
There were no words, and it was trampled on bit by bit.
"You've lost your will!" His father said coldly.
Leaving a mess on the ground,
He turned around and left.
And the head maid who took care of him,
Had watched him grow up since he was a child. Because she taught him to sleep a little longer and missed the morning class, she called herself "Sister."
The next day, she was gone. She was kicked out. Because she had "no sense of shame" and "no respect."
"Father values you so much! He loves you, "the clansmen said.
The maids, the older male servants all said, his teachers all said, "What a qualified father!", "What a strict family!"
What a qualified strict father in this era.
Ruler, scriptures, saints, rules, respect, and coldly kneeling three times and kowtowing nine times.
No one cared about a child's tears of fear at the loss of his young life. No one cared about a child's almost suffocating gaze.
Fortunately, he had a mother, a gentle-natured lady who cherished her appearance.
Only his mother took care of him. She missed him and secretly hid snacks for him. She hid the Jiu Qu Ling Long and taught him how to open it step by step. She had secretly raised turtles and puppies for him. She had taken him to pet them and told him that this was life and that he needed to be respected.
She led him through Qingqing's willows, smelling the fragrance of peach blossoms, and picking the lotus seeds in the pond in the courtyard. Tell him that this is beauty.
She privately stopped the housekeeper who was going to deal with the maidservant and let her out safely. She told him that before he left, he needed to thank her and call her "sister". This was the basic etiquette of being a human being. Her mother said that this "etiquette" was far more important than her father's etiquette of being superior and inferior.
She was his mother, his playmate, and his teacher.
They gave him "a bright future" and "bring honor to his ancestors." She taught the children love and taught them how to be human. Even though she was sick, she still stroked the crying baby and held him in her warm arms to comfort him.
But his gentle mother had too much self-esteem. She could not bear his father's constant lecturing of her as a stupid woman. She was even more unwilling to tolerate her husband having multiple wives and concubines, which all secular women took for granted. The Lin family had too few children. The man always hoped that the cheeks beside him would belong to different beauties. The saints did not say that men could not have two beauties in their arms.
She did not want to bear the charge of jealousy, but she could not bear it. She was even more disdainful and unwilling to make things difficult for those women whose fates were also out of their control. She fell seriously ill.
When her illness was at its worst, she put on the most beautiful makeup, drank the strongest medicine, and locked herself in the room. The next day, it was already cold for the whole night.
The only sentence she left was, "Shan 'er, Shan' er, you have to be a good person! Being a saint, I don't think you can be. Being a good person, I think you can be. "
He really could not be a "saint".
He was like a mother who always looked at the clouds.
When he was a teenager, he liked stories and fantasies of swordsmanship.
He liked to make friends with those people — servants, women, grooms, coachmen, farmers on the farm, shrewd and boorish merchants, down-and-out artists, lofty and proud actors.
He imagined walking in Qingqing's mustard fields and listening to the farmers talk about mulberry rice; sleeping in the bumpy cabin and listening to the merchants' stories of the West; listening to the actors' tearful singing on the stage; listening to the unhappy women's long-winded stories in brothels and back rooms. He did not want to deal with gentry who talked about benevolence, righteousness, morality, etiquette and poetry.
He also liked to read books. He read all the history books and knew the poems and songs by heart. He did not miss a single book on miscellaneous subjects.
He was passionate about the high sky and the wide sea.
He did not like to put his head on the cold jade stone like a dog and worship the emperor who sat on the golden steps. He did not like to bow to the dignified ministers who stood on either side of him.
He did not like to stay in a small examination room, racking his brain, taking out words out of context and piecing them together. Explaining benevolence, righteousness, and status.
If there was benevolence, why not give your children benevolence and righteousness and teach them some of the happiness of their little childhood?
If there was benevolence and righteousness, why not give kindness and righteousness to the sweaty farmers in the fields and teach them to pay less rent?
If there was benevolence and righteousness, why not show some tolerance to the extorted merchants?
If there was benevolence and righteousness, why not show some respect to the unfortunate women, such as his mother?
What was the use of the Four Books and Five Classics? What was the use of taking the imperial examinations? What was the use of being an official? To spend one's life maintaining the status of ruler and minister, father and son. To spend one's life maintaining the security of the foolish gentry in the countryside and collecting rent — and maintaining the security of one's own family.
But a teenager's hobby, a teenager's rebellious thoughts, in this world of rulers and ministers, father and son, were insignificant.
His youth was dark and gloomy.
Ever since his mother had passed away, the family of three had stayed in the cold and dark mansion for the entire day. His father, his elder brother, and him had not said a single word to each other except for the usual greetings at the dinner table and the sacred teachings.
There was nothing to say. A teenager obeyed an adult, a younger brother obeyed his elder brother, a son obeyed his father. A minister obeyed his king.
It was enough for him to give an order. How could there be any other words of warmth to be said?
The willows in the mansion had withered and the peach blossoms were barren. The ponds had been cleared away long ago. The garden in the pleasure garden was deserted.
A man should learn the ways of economics. These were only "delicate naughtiness," beautiful and insignificant. Just like his mother, they were insignificant.
When these insignificant things were gone, it was really a mansion — no longer a "home."
He meekly obeyed all his father's instructions. He meekly called the potbellied gentry of the fish-eating village "uncle."
Renouncing all love for the sweet air, the fragrant spring, the bright colors, and his own affectionate heart, he became a "scholar" with a vague face and a silent face.
Perhaps, he would live a life no different from his father.
But in these gloomy bitterness, there was also a little sweetness, a little honey smeared on, and hope. So that he could muster up the courage to endure.
He remembered his sister-in-law. She was born in a noble family, but did not believe that a woman's lack of talent was a virtue. She was talented. On the surface, she was proud and straightforward, but in fact, she was delicate, had elegant tastes, and often laughed. This was the marriage that his mother had arranged for his elder brother before she died.
She planted the willows, arranged the peach trees, planted new lotus flowers, and planted the osmanthus trees.
Walking in the spring, admiring the lotuses in the summer, and fragrant orchids and osmanthus in the autumn.
His sister-in-law gradually revitalized the cold mansion into a "home."
Even his big brother would occasionally laugh.
Even though she did not like his gloomy brother-in-law, his sister-in-law still arranged his marriage for him.
Behind his elder brother and father's back, his sister-in-law disregarded etiquette and arranged for him to meet his fiancée. She said, "The first meeting in the bridal chamber is the first meeting. That's called sorrow."
He secretly glanced at his fiancée from afar and secretly painted a portrait of her. She was so youthful, lively, and radiant. She was not at all like the young ladies in those wooden stories.
He learned to admire young ladies.
But this little hope of a sweet life was shattered in the blink of an eye.
His bright and talented sister-in-law, because of the issue of children, gradually buried her poetry at the bottom of a box under the eyes of the people of the time. She also began to be a "virtuous woman." She hoped that people would let her go because she began to conform to the "virtuous" morals of the secular world.
In the end, childbirth harmed her body, and she became depressed and ill, unable to get up.
His beloved fiancée, Liu Wuniang, hanged herself because she was afraid of the horror of marriage.
In the end, in front of her lonely grave, he personally burned it to ashes. It was the only portrait he had of his shy and ignorant teenage fantasy about his future marriage.
He put the book on the table and closed "Li Xianglan's Work Diary". He stared at the seemingly crazy young master on the cover — Chang Yuchun. He thought, Yu 'er wrote so well.
It always reminded him of his youth.
His youth was the life of a prodigal son.
As for his singing of "obscene poems" in front of the palace, he was stripped of his scholarly achievements and demoted to a commoner. There was no one who did not know about him.
He thought of his best friend, Liu Yusheng, who was born in a down-and-out family, but was framed and imprisoned because of justice. He died a tragic death.
He thought of his down-and-out and homeless youth, and the cowardly and innocent young man who took him in — Yang Wen Jju. Wen Ju had helped him through the most difficult period of his life, but he had to stay in the dark mansion forever.
Thinking of him …
He thought of too many people.
In the river full of unbearable memories, those crystal clear, dreamy, and fleeting bubbles always floated from the bottom of the river from time to time.
Lin Ruoshan closed his eyes slightly.
Mother, sister-in-law, Wuniang, Yu 'er, Yusheng, Wen Jju, Qingqing …
Some time ago, the letter from his old friend, Wen Jju, who was blocked by the war, finally arrived.
He could almost imagine Wen Jju holding his wife and dancing with joy when he wrote the letter.
Wen Jju said that he planned to settle down in Guangzhou.
Wen Jju said, Ruoshan, I believe in you.
He said, Unfortunately, I did not have the courage to escape from this world and create a new one. Now you have done it, Ruoshan, you have done it!
Lin Ruoshan suddenly clenched the letter in his hand.
He pushed the door open.
Lin Daiyu stood by the door. She had never seen him so cold.
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