The Prose of Hundred Flower Lanterns in Zhouwanli
The tranquility in Zhouwanli will not be for nothing, nor will it be as quiet as the sound of autumn. Zhouwan is quiet and peaceful, stationed in front of mountains and behind a lake. Zhouwan's strength, softness, wisdom and joy in the mountains and rivers seem to be highly appreciated by all the villagers living in Zhouwan. That's why there is Zhouwan at this moment, with an appearance that resembles both mountains and rivers, a breeze and snowy bones. Zhou Wan has been stationed for such a long time, saying, "A hundred flowers are like lamps, and a hundred years are like flowing water."
However, Zhou Wan is an immortal Taoist, advocating the mysteries of Taoism and Taoist philosophy that he was born and raised in. Zhou Wan grew up in front of Shanxia Lake. When Zhou Wan opened the door, he faced Qingming, and when he closed the door, he relied on Houchuang. The lanes, paths and farmhouses in Zhouwanli are very much in line with the natural laws of mountains and rivers, as if there are deep and mysterious geomantic omens hidden in them. That is what the elders of Zhouwan have been studying all their lives. How beautiful Zhouwan is, where do you sleep, and when do you wake up?
There have always been many stories in Zhou Wanli, which can probably be gleaned from the thick "Zhou Family Genealogy", but those "one or two" things are always ancient. Only words remain. Zhou Wan can no longer tolerate desolate language, and quietly buries so much living history into the thin book that he has been waiting for. The flower page, the flowers flowing in the river, Zhou Wan walks quietly, and all the stories follow him like a child. The reason why we can't understand his desolation is because we are too old.
The story of Zhou Wanli seems to be interesting no matter where you start. The villagers in Zhouwanli also seem to be happy to tell stories. It seems that if you tell too many stories, people will not forget them and will not forget them so quickly. There are so many ancient monuments in Zhouwan, and you can find the ancient figure of the storyteller anywhere. Those figures are always on the mottled land, showing the stunning desolation.
There is an elder who lives alone under an old camphor tree in Zhouwan. The branches of the camphor are crisscrossed with ever-changing wrinkles. The elder once said that those wrinkles were planted by himself. The camphor tree is the most delicious and passionate tree in the world. The elders planted the tree to remember what Zhouwanli looked like back then. The camphor tree remembers the ever-changing charitable face of the elderly.
Ever since, the feeling of infatuation in Zhou Wanli was wandering around. The infatuated woman left Zhouwan, and the persistent man walked into Zhouwan again. Those stories of coming in and out, coming in and out, are always filled with antique legends. From the elders' narrations, I once heard the feng shui singing of Zhouwanli one year, and the flowers were blooming. Two lively red events were held in Zhouwan within one day. The processions for sending off relatives and welcoming Qin met under the ancient camphor tree. Big red and small red double happiness characters were scattered on the branches of the camphor tree. There are young men and women from Zhouwan who fall in love with each other and finally get married under the camphor tree in full bloom.
Most of the elders remember the camphor trees of that year, with their red flowers and green leaves, reflecting their young faces against the bright sky. Zhou Wan is like a tolerant matchmaker, recording the matchmaking words of every lover and the fate of heaven and earth. Time flies like the wind, and the memories left behind are always mottled and moving. Who is remembering Zhou Wan, and who is remembering each other's beauty in time?
I still remember the story about the piglet mother that has been popular in Zhouwan for a long time: Uncle Niu’s wedding that year had a tricycle, a big red word for "hi", and a short cousin with superb drumming skills. There were so many Lively people took part in it. Uncle Niu's wedding started with the cry of the old sow in Zhouwan. Uncle Niu took his wife's hand, walked into Zhouwan, lived next to the elder's house, and became their neighbor. Everyone remembers the scene where Uncle Niu kissed his wife in public at a wedding hosted by an elder. In the hearts of many young people, Uncle Niu's bold and yet etiquette behavior became a model for everyone in that era.
The child of Mother Piggy has now become a lively figure in Zhouwan. Uncle Cow, the mother of Piggy, has passed away in a hurry. Next to Piggy's mother's current residence, all the respected elders in Zhouwan have said goodbye, and those ancient houses have become mottled. The children no longer remember their elders. Only Piggy’s mother remembers Zhouwan where the elders once existed.
Uncle Niu’s ceremonial ceremony was held in another place in Zhouwan. Piggy’s mother was already old at that time, and the children all had sad faces, looking at their melancholy mother. Zhouwan was pale in the afternoon sun, and the water beside the Tamsui River screamed incessantly.
The dwarf camphor leaves stood together with his dwarf cousin, who was as short as him. The vast sound of drums shuttled between the mountains and rivers, and the surrounding bay was covered with onyx, as pure as if he was asleep.
Most of the baptisms of men in Zhouwan come from this. Great sorrow and great suffering are the most desolate experiences in the world. The men of Zhouwan will always return eagerly no matter how far they travel. Compared with the distant Zhouwan, we are so small. When Zhou Wan nodded and lowered his eyebrows, quietly weeping, we were so intoxicated. So many strong villagers like the elders walked in Zhouwan and returned to Zhouwan, hiding among the deep rubble of low walls and unwilling to go back for a long time.
Zhouwan has a long history of customs, romance, and sophistication. What is superficial is the soil of Zhouwan, and what is profound is the distant eyes above the soil. When the custom festival begins, there will still be countless lanterns in Zhouwan. The distant artistic conception, the vast artistic conception, the immature artistic conception, the beautiful artistic conception, as light as a dream.
Only the children's lanterns have remained unchanged. By the short Tamsui River in Zhouwan, between the deep distant mountains, the lanterns float to the branches, blooming like sorrow in the distance. The scene of youth in my memory is just like this, adorning the branches on a cool summer night, passing by slowly. There are so many children playing in Zhouwan, and the memories of my youth are vivid.
So many villagers who have grown up still recall the happy memories of their childhood. Most people will remember sitting in Zhouwan waiting for the lanterns to fly into the sky. The story of Zhou Wanli passed quietly in such a light atmosphere. Although most people miss the past for no reason, Zhouwan is always as beautiful as a dream, with no trace of smiles.
Some elderly people always say that Zhou Wan is very quiet because Zhou Wan has found a way to be quiet.
The way Zhouwan looks when it is quiet, very quiet. Flowers are blooming and spring water is flowing. The mountains and rivers felt at ease and remained silent.
In one lively season, Zhouwan was surrounded by white lanterns. The story is like a warm color, which makes people feel gentle and peaceful. Passionate people come and go hand in hand, and Zhou Wan is affectionate towards this. When there was a light like snow, Zhou Wan changed his warm look. His forehead has never been full of winter snow.
It wasn’t until much later that I remembered that the silent elder told me some stories about Zhouwanli, imprinted with the color of lights like flowers.