When I was young, my house was a typical Jiangnan old house, with spacious ground and high beams. Every winter, even if the long windows are closed, there is still a bit of chill in the house that penetrates into the bone marrow. At that time, there was no air conditioning or underfloor heating, so it was surprisingly cold to be alone in the bedroom. So, I picked up the small bench, hid in the small stove, sat in front of the coal stove, while warming up, while reading idle books to pass the time.
Every night, my uncle and grandma had to boil hot water to wash their feet, and make soup (heating utensils) until eight or nine o’clock. During this time, I sat quietly by the fire with a volume in my hand to pass the time. The only thing that accompanied me was an old tin pot, which sat on the coal stove as steadily as Mount Tai. The coals made a “rustling” sound, and the water in the pot continued to heat up amidst the raging charcoal fire, emitting white smoke and creaking noises, stirring the silence of the cold night, and making people feel the breath of fireworks in the world.
If the fire can warm the body, then books can warm the soul. On cold days, I sat around the stove and read one book after another, from the beauty of Chu Ci and Han Fu to the suave poetry of Tang and Song Dynasties, from the swords and swords across the rivers and lakes to the lingering love between children and children . Tired of watching, facing the bright and dark, jumping and flickering flames, there are scenes of ancient people reading: “In the cold night, I forget to sleep when I study, and there is no smoke in the brocade quilt incense burner. The beauty snatched the lamp with anger, and asked Lang Zhi what day is The great talent Yuan Mei turned on the lamp to read at night in the cold winter, and before he knew it, it was the third watch, and the little lady raised the curtain with her hands. Presumably, it was because Luo Qun couldn’t bear the fifth watch cold, and felt sorry for her husband who was tired from the cold, half coquettish and half angry. The screen lamp was turned off, and the husband was half embarrassed and half wronged. The figures who stayed up all night studying hard, they were born in poor families, they neither have the luxury of “red sleeves add fragrance” to enjoy, nor the leisure and elegance of cooking tea and sweeping snow. Song Zhenzong used “There are thousands of millet in the book, there is a house of gold in the book, and there is Yan Ruyu in the book” to encourage scholars all over the world to study hard and obtain fame. Therefore, they hunger and thirst all night long. The pieces of fire, reflected on their faces, led them to walk towards the depths of the light, and also lit up their dreams deep in their hearts. Hanging beams stabbed thighs, chiseled walls to steal light, and fireflies reflected snow… Many years later, they may Become a generation of great Confucianists, or extremely human officials, their legends and articles are like the sun, moon and stars in the sky, and they are still talked about by future generations after thousands of years.
I was influenced by the ancients’ “night reading”, and I also have the mood of night reading. Each book has become a window to a new world. I can’t remember how many cold nights I have read with a charcoal fire, and later, I gradually got used to reading at night, and I especially like to study hard in the cold night, and even read that the east is pale. Because the cold can refresh the mind, and the night can get rid of distracting thoughts. My mother often reprimanded me for not caring about my body. When my father saw it, he smiled lightly: “Compared to me, what is she?” When my father was a teenager, it happened that educated young people were “decentralized” to experience life in the countryside. He was busy with farm work during the day. Staying in a broken thatched hut at night, reading hard with books in the dim light of kerosene lamps on winter nights when water drops turned into ice. If books are compared to treasures, then the father is the person who digs the treasures. The so-called God rewards hard work, and my father finally lived up to his expectations and was admitted to university to realize his dream.
Decades of time have passed, I have stepped from a child to a weak crown, and then I have stepped into no doubts. The old house has long been demolished, and we have moved into a western-style building. The coal stove is already in the clouds. The floor heating is installed in the house. The snow outside the window is long, and the inside is warm. Feeling harmonious, one gets into the soft and generous quilt, and has the comfort of being intoxicated with gentleness. The head of the bed is full of books, and I can read whichever book I want, like ordering soldiers. Suddenly I remembered what Lin Yutang once said: “On a snowy night, sitting around the stove, a pot of good tea, a box of Tamba wild rice, and dozens of books on philosophy, economics, poetry, and history are scattered on the sofa. , and then do whatever you want, take it and read it, and then you will get the interest of reading.” The ancients read at night for the golden house, or for Yan Ruyu, and my father read it for college entrance examination and changing fate. Back then, I also embraced With the original intention of rubbing the residual heat of the fire. Only at this time, I don’t have to suffer the pain of Yingying Yingxue, nor do I have to read for warmth and pass the time. My soul travels all over the country in black and white, across ancient and modern China and foreign countries in the fragrance of ink, and blows out the reading lamp. Only when you put on a full moon can you really get the interest in reading.
