"Before the storm... and the shattering of bones... I have no fear of life or death!"
As Yu Xiao finished speaking, you could hear a pin drop in the living room.
In this era, when people recite their own modern poems at poetry exchanges, sometimes, for the sake of effect, they can’t avoid chanting with strong tones and bright atmospheres, for example, “Stand on my shoulders, my dear, you have to be brave!”, or “Ah, sea! Even if your waves can wash away the memories…” or “Let the sunshine and rain spread to every corner! Go into the field of life and let the wind iron your forehead…” Modal particles followed by colorful descriptions are the current mainstream.
However, the poem by Cheng Ran that Yu Xiao recited was different. It could even be said that it was different from the style of poetry they were familiar with. Perhaps out of resentment, Yu Xiao did not recite the poem in a poetic way. He almost "read" the poem.
But it is precisely this way that makes this poem exude its own characteristics.
When young people recite poems, they often express their sorrow for the passing of spring and autumn, and express their feelings. But this poem is neither strong nor heavy, it is just like drinking from a cup, "a cup to the morning sun, a cup to the moonlight, a cup to my hometown, a cup to the distant place..." Just like Tang poetry and Song lyrics, simple words can accurately depict the intoxicating artistic conception. And then the final destination is like a knife, bluntly piercing people's hearts. That kind of spirit transcends time and space.
Yao Beibei stared at the newspaper in Yu Xiao's hand. She really wanted to snatch it and take a look.
Xie Dong, Zhang Xin and other young men from wealthy families were all a little surprised. When did Cheng Ran become so good at writing? They might not be able to appreciate some of the things in the poem due to their age, but they could fully absorb the touching feeling that came to them.
Yang Xia moved her mouth and her eyes were blurred, as if she was reciting silently again. This was enough to write it down in the pink notebook with scented paper that she had just bought but had never been willing to use.
Although Wang Yuran, who was wearing a pair of glasses, remained calm, he was actually on par with Sun Jichao in terms of liberal arts, and he also appreciated the better aspects of this poem. Frankly speaking, this poem was already two levels better than Sun Jichao's!
Liu Ying was completely stunned on the spot. She just felt that Cheng Ran today was like a series of traps that were impossible to guard against, and she kept climbing up and falling down from him.
Sun Jichao's face flushed red. Looking at the expressions of everyone present, he knew that the poem he had just taken out did not have such power.
The door suddenly opened, and this time everyone turned their heads at the same time, like female birds waiting to be fed, and looked towards the door.
But what disappointed them was not Cheng Ran's return, but the return of Zhang Lin and Liu Jun.
The two were a little surprised to see that everyone was staring at them. Zhang Lin said calmly, "Oh, it's another poetry exchange meeting... Whose poem is it this time..."
Zhang Lin took off her coat, and Liu Jun took it. Then she walked towards the crowd. She reached out and touched the back of Liu Ying's head. "Yu Xiao, your poem?"
"No, it's not..."
Zhang Lin took the newspaper from him. When she read the content of the newspaper, the hand that was stroking Liu Ying's hair suddenly slowed down. Liu Ying looked up with a strange expression and said, "Mom, what do you think of this poem?"
Sun Jichao suddenly said, "Aunt Zhang, you are an expert in literature, take a look at this poem, does it look familiar to you..."
Yu Xiao was a little angry. Sun Jichao was clearly hinting that Cheng Ran had plagiarized, and he said it very vaguely. He didn't point it out directly so as not to appear petty, so he just mentioned it briefly, but it clearly showed the direction of his suspicion.
Many people reacted when they heard it. Yes, this poem may not be written by Cheng Ran himself. Maybe it was copied from some corner. They didn't read enough and had never seen it. But it was different in front of Zhang Lin. Although they were afraid of Zhang Lin, they knew that Liu Ying, the mother, was a capable person. She was also a member of the Provincial Writers Association. From time to time, some poetry collections were published. Although the print run was small, they were still famous. When Cheng Ran's poems were brought to her, they would really be exposed.
Who knew that Zhang Lin was only focused on reading poetry at this time, and said perfunctorily, "What expert? I can only be considered an amateur..." She is very humble in this regard, but the more humble she is, the more her talents are hidden.
"No, I haven't seen it before..." She shook her head, "Could it be a new poet?" She looked at Yu Xiao, Liu Ying and others, "Anyway, this is definitely not something you kids can do."
"This poem reminds me of the past... the hard time I spent studying, and then the hometown I had to leave after I started working... During those times, I gave birth to you, worked alone in another place, and you stayed with your dad. Now when I think about it, those years were really not easy..." Zhang Lin said as he read, "'A glass to tomorrow, a glass to the past', this wine of time is really not good to drink, but it is also the most intoxicating thing that makes people drink it."
Everyone looked at Zhang Lin as if they didn't know her. This "evil aunt Zhang" who used to be so serious and stern with thick glasses was actually moved by Cheng Ran's poem today? There was a light flashing in her small eyes behind the thick bottom lenses.
"One toast to freedom, one toast to death. That's a good toast. I've walked more roads, seen more storms, and seen more people and things. Gradually, I know that some people and things will disappear in the blink of an eye, just like your mother's old classmate, who was still so young, but died of illness last year. In her sickness, she talked about the years when we were educated youth. Those were carefree times, but my mother saw that she also had the deepest attachment to this world. She finally burst into tears. How helpless she was. She should have respected the freedom at that time, but she should have been more in awe of death and separation! The author wrote all of this in a short poem, but what is condensed is the helplessness and sadness of life's fleetingness..."
"If it stops here, it would only show the poet's rich experience and understanding of life, which is not surprising. The key is the subsequent turning point, which shows his indestructible state of mind. Facing this world, "Why should I not regret the changes of time, how can I feel guilty about the hustle and bustle of the world?" It is a torture. It is a torture that rises to the ultimate question after experiencing the previous respect for the sunrise and the moonlight, respect for the hometown and the distance, respect for tomorrow and the past, respect for freedom and death, which is almost a summary of life. How to face the changes of time, the hustle and bustle of the world, and the eight sufferings of life..."
Zhang Lin took a deep breath and said, "The key point is the last paragraph of the poem."
"In the face of the turbulent waves of life and the crushing hardships of life and death, be fearless!"
"Be fearless. Isn't this the right attitude towards life? But how many people can do it? I'm afraid that without practicing for many lifetimes, one would not dare to say it lightly. So the poet is very generous."
Everyone listened in a daze as Zhang Lin expressed his feelings. As a member of the Provincial Writers Association and director of the primary school office of the Municipal Education and Research Group, Zhang Lin did have the temperament of a scholar. His interpretation of the poem made them feel like they had taken a complete Chinese class. He talked passionately and eloquently about some famous historical figure.
If Cheng Ran had not left just now and listened to Zhang Lin's words, he would probably have staggered in fear. Just based on this poem, he completely analyzed Cheng Ran's state of mind when he wrote the poem, and even captured his emotions of rebirth. It was almost like pointing out his identity as a reborn person.
In fact, the so-called scholarly family is largely the result of the influence of parents. Liu Ying's family can be considered half a scholarly family.
"Of course, my interpretation may not be correct. It is just for your reference." Zhang Lin smiled, looked around at the people at the moment, and his eyes fell gently on Jiang Hongshao.
This poem doesn't look like something that an ordinary middle school student could write, but it's not right to say it's completely impossible. There are always some geniuses and monsters. Jiang Hongshao might be one of them. She might be able to write it, but Zhang Lin has seen her calligraphy, which is a kind of phoenix-like style. The calligraphy of this poem is condensed, experienced, and has deep thoughts... This is very likely something that Jiang Hongshao brought from home. Well, it fits that person's identity very well.
Liu Ying's father, Liu Jun, had already packed up and walked into the living room. Seeing that his poet wife was also moved by the poem, he said, "Oh, who wrote this poem... It's so well written that even your Aunt Zhang was touched. He is usually an absolutely strong man at home!"
Liu Jun thought his words would make everyone laugh, but when he saw that no one in this group of children laughed, they all looked very strange.
After a moment, he heard his daughter speak.
"Yu Xiao said... this was written by Cheng Ran yesterday."
The gathering at Liu Ying's house ended like this, and everyone left. However, the appearance of the poem still left a knot in everyone's heart. Some people who were familiar with Cheng Ran, such as Yao Beibei, admitted that the poem was indeed good, but it was definitely copied by Cheng Ran! I don't know who he copied it from! In short, it was copied.
Zhou Bin, a young athlete from Sun Jichao's side, finally said stiffly, "I think, how old is Cheng Ran, he keeps talking about freedom and death... This poem is not good! It's inexplicable!" Although this is a bit rough, some people agree that if the poem was written by a middle-aged person, it would be reasonable and he could even be called a poet. But when it comes to Cheng Ran, how can it be convincing!
"Looking at Cheng Ran's usual grades, he has the ability, but his Chinese score was so low? That's a lie!" This is what Yao Beibei is sure of.
Everyone left Liu Ying's house with heavy hearts and returned to their own homes.
Sun Jichao and his two companions were silent on their way home, but halfway through, Sun Jichao suddenly kicked a tree.
Liu Ying called Yang Xia who had just returned home, "Yao Beibei also said that you copied Sun Jichao's poem... This one is actually much better than Sun Jichao's... Cheng Ran left halfway through, didn't Yao Beibei and I go a little too far today..."
After finishing the call with Liu Ying, Yang Xia opened her pink notebook from the drawer in her room, unfolded the cover, unscrewed the pen cap, and buried her head in the notebook, relying on her previous memory. Finally, she looked at her work, closed the notebook, and saw a music box placed against the wall of the table. The music box was a gift from Cheng Ran on her birthday last year. At that time, it was the most inconspicuous among all the gifts, so she just threw it on the table. She stretched out her finger to touch it, and then quickly retracted her hand. It turned out that it had not been touched for a long time, and there was a layer of dust on it.
She stared at last year's gift, thoughtfully.
In the single-family house with a small red door in the inner courtyard of the government, Jiang Hongshao entered the entrance hall, took off her shoes, and placed the book and keychain she brought from Liu Ying's house on the table. A thin middle-aged man was already sitting on the sofa. He raised his eyes from under his double eyelids and smiled in a very distinctive way. He said, "Hongshao, you're back... Are you hungry? Dad will cook noodles for you. I fried some pork sauce, it smells good!"
"You're going to gain weight if you don't eat." Jiang Hongshao said decisively.
"Hey, gaining weight is nothing, girls look better with a little bit of flesh... Hey, what's wrong with your perfunctory smile?"
"Is the party fun today?"
"It's OK."
"Oh, is that anything special?"
Jiang Hongshao took out a pear from the refrigerator and peeled it. She turned around, thought for a moment, and said, "No."
"Oh." The middle-aged man stopped asking and continued to look down at a document in his hand. "Your aunt will call you in a while."
"Eldest aunt, second aunt, or youngest aunt?"
The middle-aged man said unhappily, "Of course it's my aunt who likes chatting with you the most!"
After eating a pear and taking a bath, Jiang Hongshao talked to her aunt on the phone across the ocean. Wearing pajamas and with black hair, she sat on the edge of the bed and continued to read a large book "Glory and Dreams". The moonlight happened to shine through the window, bathing her body. The moonlight made her skin and bones charming, and the ink made her spirit cool.
When she was tired of reading and took a break, her eyes left the pages of the book and looked at the bright moon.
She originally thought that today was just a normal social event, and her current routine life was as calm as ever. However, it was like a stone thrown into the Mirror Lake, causing a small ripple.
Recalling something, she smiled, "Fearless of life and death... stealing loquats... Didn't you seem fearless at that time?"