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Dusk is mysterious. As long as people can live one more day, there will be a dusk at the end of this day. However, as the years roll and the months roll, they have countless days to live and countless nights. I want to ask: how many people feel the existence of this dusk?

In the morning, when the residual dream flew out of the pillow, they woke up and started a day's walk. They walked and walked until noon, when the road suddenly turned. It seems that they just slipped away until the end of the day. When they saw the white smoke in the distance, the treetops were lightly coated with a layer of golden yellow. When flocks of crows flew back with the sun at dusk, something seemed to be gently pressing on their hearts. They knew that night was coming. They long for rest and dreams. Soon, the dim night covered their eyes and hearts. They are busy in the low hut, closing the door at dusk. If someone asks: Have you ever seen dusk? The evening was beautiful, but they were at a loss.

How can they not be at a loss When they leaned out to look for dusk again, the dusk disappeared with the disappearance of white smoke, the golden color on the treetops and the sun color on the crow's back. Only the hazy night is left. This evening, like a light dream on a spring night, came at an unknown time, swept their hearts and disappeared at an unknown time.

I left at dusk. Where did it go? No, I asked first: Where does dusk come from? I can't say for sure. Who knows? Can't catch the dusk, ask to the end. From the east? The east is where the sun rises. From the west? Isn't there hongxia in the west? From the south? There is only light and heat in the south, so it seems most appropriate to say that it comes from the north. If we think about it and think that the end of the North Pole is the Arctic Ocean, we can draw a picture of a white world, a white snow field and a white iceberg in our imagination. Further north, on the white horizon, you can't tell which is the sky, which is the ground, which is the ice and which is the snow, just a hazy gray. Shouldn't the hazy gray dusk degenerate from here?

However, it degenerated, but it spread. Overflow the plains and grasslands, leaving shadows; Overflowing the forest, leaving a gloomy darkness, overflowing the stream, blending the dark gray twilight into the underwater sound, and the water surface faintly shines in silence; Overflow the top of the mountain, leaving them the light of the stars and the light of the moon; Through the village, I left the boundless twilight smoke ... I tore a piece from every corner and caught a spider web. Later, I crossed the lonely desert and came to our country. I can imagine: if I stand in the desert and face the dusk, I can definitely see the dusk coming from the distant horizon, like-like what? It should be like gray fog, right? Or like a spreading cloud? Ran away, still only left a shadow, ran away, came to our country, with white smoke in the distance, with a faint golden color on the treetops. With the sun color on the crow's back at dusk, it falls on people's minds and is rejected by people.

However, outside the door, whether people care or not, it arranges a dreamy and poetic fairy tale world for them in a lonely and cold way. It is hazy and dim, just like a shadow reflected in a mirror, and it paints everything with a silver-gray dreamy color. Cream air condenses like real milk, but it looks soft and thick when flowing. It brings silence. Listen: everything is quiet, like a midnight with heavy snow. But dead? But no, a little more silence than now will turn into a grave. It seems that there is not much at all, not little at all. The beautiful and comfortable tranquility is soft and thick on people's hearts, and the gray sky is like a thin curtain. Trees, houses, smoke lines, clouds, all like silhouettes, quietly stick to this scene. Here, there, dotted with the purple light of the sunset glow and the cold light of the little star. Dusk is really like a poem, a song and a fairy tale. Like the melodious flute from the Moon Tower, bright cranes are ringing in the sky; Like Shao wine aged for decades; I like everything that is too beautiful to say. Can't say, can only see; Don't see enough, you can only understand; I can only admire and don't understand. -But it was finally rejected.

Shut people out. Did I say that? I have to be careful, because the so-called people are not all people, and they will never be all people. When I was a child, I often stayed in the courtyard and waited for dusk. I'm not saying this to show that I am better than others. The meaning is simple: if others don't go, or don't want to go, go. I (and others, of course) often do this at the right time. Often in summer, I sit on a short stool and watch the corner get dark, and the surrounding white walls are covered with a faint shadow. In the darkness, the fragrance of cordate telosma seeped into my heart in waves. Bats fly in the sky. The cobwebs on the eaves reflect the gray sky, and in the hazy, you can also count the lines on the internet and the bodies of mosquitoes and flies stuck to it. Suddenly, inadvertently looked up again, and the shiny little star was embedded in the dark gray sky. In winter, the patio is covered with snow. I curled up in the room. When I saw the white window paper gradually turning gray, the flame in the stove that I couldn't see the color gradually turned red and lit up during the day. I will also know that it is dusk. I looked out through the gap in the baffle: the gray sky, the gray roof covered with snow. The half-curved bleak cool moon is printed in the sky. Although a little bleak, it still can't hide the beauty of dusk. At this time, even people who often sit in the patio waiting for it to come have to curl up in the room. There is only gray snow outside the deserted door. Who is this hazy world made for? Don't you feel lonely at dusk?

But loneliness won't last long. We still have to leave at dusk. Li Shangyin said in his poem: "to see the sun, for all his glory was buried in the coming night." Isn't the poet lamenting that dusk can't stay long? I really can't stay long. In a blink of an eye, this dusk is like a light dream, which only sweeps in people's hearts, leaving a dark night and leaving with its loneliness.

Gone, really gone. Now let me ask: Where did dusk go? I know this better than where it comes from. I can't catch the tail of dusk and ask what it is. However, it is speculated that northerners should go to the south. Who said it wasn't going south? I saw the development of things. -Over the South Wall; Over the hills and forests in the south; In the beautiful south of China. All the way to Africa. Africa has steep mountains; There is a deep and dark forest on the ridge. Think further, there are tigers in the Woods. Tiger? As dusk approaches, it's time to light up your light green eyes that only show during the day. Is it like two lights? There should also be wild weeds in the forest, which are higher than people. There are lions, mosquitoes, Okumo and bats in the grass, which are bigger than ordinary bats. The afterglow of the sunset leaked from the thin leaves through the cobwebs on the branches, and the bright golden light shone on the whole forest in reddish brown, which combined with the poisonous gas spit out by poisonous snakes under the grass and became colorful fog. There should be fireflies. It's flashing now. There should be flowers, but it doesn't seem to be cordate telosma or cordate telosma. What is this? They are all evil poisonous flowers. In poisonous gas, shouldn't we just bloom evil flowers? The fragrance of this flower slowly melts into the brown-red air and into the gorgeous color fog. Stir into balls and roll into warm air. However, the hot air was quickly dissolved by the dark night. Only the flashing fireflies are left, and now they are getting brighter. Tiger's eyes are more like two lamps, silently staring at the stars that have just appeared in the dark gray sky.

However, here, dusk is still going. Where did you go again? But no one really knows. -climb into the dark sky with the faint white and sparse light of Leng Yue? Climb the Tianhe River with the twinkling stars? Did you press the bat's wings and get into the eaves? Is it dissolved behind the distant mountains with the aura of the west? Who can know this clearly? We only know that it is gone, with its loneliness and beauty, like a trace, like a light dream on a spring night.

It's gone. -Now, now what can I ask? Waiting for tomorrow? Tomorrow comes, tomorrow, tomorrow. When people see white smoke in the distance, the treetops are lightly painted with a layer of golden yellow, and flocks of crows fly back with the sun in the twilight, as if something is pressing on their hearts, longing for the arrival of their dreams. Close the door. It was dusk outside, and when they looked for it again, it was gone. Running from the Arctic Ocean, passing by, went to the African forest. Where to? Who knows? However, the night has come: a long night, a night with stars and moonlight shining, a night with fragrance … just a night, a long night, a night that will never end. What about dusk? -dusk never exists in people's hearts. Only one prey, gone, like a light dream on a spring night.

2◆ Ji Xianlin's prose ◎ "Memories of Jinan High School"

Alma mater plays an important role in a person's growth. Everyone is like this, and his growth cannot be separated from his alma mater.

I have no ambition. I should have been admitted to No.1 Middle School after graduating from primary school. No.1 Middle School is the head of Shandong education. I'm not that material. I dare not enter the No.1 Middle School. After graduating from junior high school, I studied in Zhengyi High School for half a year. By 1926, the middle school attached to Shandong University was established in Baihezhuang, Beiyuan, and I studied for another two years. I really went to Baihezhuang to study. At that time, I was fifteen years old and accidentally got the first place in the exam. At that time, Shoupeng Wang, the education director and principal of Shanda University, personally wrote a couplet for me and gave me a fan. So I have vanity, so I can't get down when I go up, and then I always come first in the exam.

Beiyuan High School was abolished and the only high school in Shandong Province was established: Jinan High School in Shandong Province, a junior high school graduate from all counties in the province. You must come here if you want to make progress. This is the only bridge to universities (mainly Beijing).

My relationship with No.1 Middle School is 1929- 1930. I studied in Jinan High School for one year.

Jinan Senior High School, founded in Shandong Province, is located in Ganshiqiao Road in the west of Jinan City, in a huge courtyard in the north of the road.

The first Chinese teacher in our class is Mr Hu Yepin. He often writes a few big characters on the blackboard: the mission of modern literature and art The so-called modern literature and art, also called general literature, is proletarian literature. Several popular versions of general literary theories in the market are awkward and difficult to understand. It is estimated that the general literary theory taught by Mr. Hu in class cannot be found in these books. I believe that no one can understand it, but this has not reduced our enthusiasm. Teacher Hu took his wife Ding Ling from Shanghai to Jinan for a temporary stay. Ding Ling was red and purple. Middle school students are mostly groupies. When we met Ding Ling, we were too excited to describe. However, how can the Kuomintang authorities tolerate revolution under their own eyes? So they ordered an arrest warrant for Hu Yepin. Mr. Hu went to Shanghai and was killed by the Kuomintang more than a year later.

Mr. Hu was succeeded by Mr. Dong. Mr. Dong graduated from the English Department of Peking University and translated the book Waves of Freedom, with Mr. Lu Xun as the preface. Teacher Dong's teaching style is completely different from that of Teacher Hu. He doesn't talk about modern literature and revolution, but teaches honestly. He chose "Symbol of Depression" written by Japanese chef Masaaki Shirakawa and translated by Lu Xun as the teaching material, and carefully analyzed and taught it. The composition has no title, and the four words in capital on the blackboard are: write casually. It means you can write whatever you want. Once, I actually wrote a composition on these four words, and Teacher Dong didn't have any opinions.

My pursuit of structural symmetry of the article, especially the pursuit of the sense of rhythm of the article, was discovered by Teacher Dong before I fully understood it myself. In a long composition, Mr. Dong criticized "one rhythm" and "another rhythm" in the margin at the top of each page of the composition book, which made me ecstatic. This incident has influenced my life's writing. Teacher Dong probably appreciates my composition. He once wrote a long comment on writing, including a few words: "Ji Xianlin's composition, like Wang Lianbang in Science Class 1, is probably the highest in the class, and it can also be said that it is the highest in the whole school." These words greatly enhanced my sense of honor. Although I studied western literature in Tsinghua after graduating from high school and managed Indian and Central Asian ancient literature in Germany, my literary creation never stopped. In my opinion, scientific research and literary creation are not only not contradictory, but also complement each other and benefit both body and mind. All this is inseparable from the encouragement of Mr. Dong, and I will never forget it.

At that time, the teachers in No.1 Middle School were the highest in Shandong Province. At that time, there were high school teacher Qi Yunpu and the headmaster of No.1 Middle School, Wan Yan Qing Xiang. He teaches us logic, Mr. Ju Simin teaches ethics, and Mr. Wang, who teaches mathematics, and Mr. Liu, who teaches English. I miss these teachers very much. Without these teachers, there would be no me.

Mr Hu Yepin's time in high school is extremely short. I learned one thing from him, that is, revolution, proletarian revolution. Teacher Hu not only speaks in class, but also takes action after class. He called several students together and wanted to organize a modern literature and art research society. Setting tables, laying paper and soliciting members in the big corridor outside the dormitory caused a great sensation. He also contacted a publishing house in Shanghai to publish a publication promoting modern literature and art, and I am an activist in organizing publishing. I participated in the recruitment of members and wrote an article for the first issue of the magazine to be published. The title is simply "The Mission of Modern Literature and Art". I can't remember the content clearly. There may be a little theory, which is just a "theory" copied from the book that I don't even understand. Unfortunately (perhaps fortunately for me), it was stopped by the Kuomintang authorities. Teacher Hu fled to Shanghai, leaderless and unaccounted for. Otherwise, if this publication is really successful, my paper will fall into the hands of the enemy, which is undoubtedly the best evidence, and I may be blacklisted. I often laugh at myself that this is a tragicomedy similar to the Ah Q Revolution. At the same time, I admire Mr. Hu Yepin as a true revolutionary from the bottom of my heart. They regard the Kuomintang as nothing, and this revolutionary spirit can really shock the world and make the gods cry. Tactically speaking, it is inevitable to be naive; However, in the process of revolution, this is inevitable, and I even want to say that it is necessary. Without this spirit, a powerful enemy cannot be defeated. Revolution, democracy and science are the spirit of Jinan senior high school.

In the summer of 1930, my middle school days were over. I was 19 years old. (Ji Xianlin)