Gu Yanwu’s wife

Stepping into Qiandeng Ancient Town in the cold wind, I knew it was just for Gu Yanwu.

For Gu Yanwu, Mr. Buwei "is the 'founding Confucian master' of the Qing Dynasty, the founder of 'Qing Xue', a famous Confucian scholar, historian and phonologist"; He has made great achievements in the fields of history, phonology, primary school, epigraphy and archeology, local chronicles and geography, as well as poetry and prose." This was just for the last words of his stepmother and the poem in mourning for his wife.

In the summer of 1645 AD, after his hometown fell, his stepmother Wang went on a hunger strike for 10 days and died for the country. She left a message to Yanwu before her death: "Although I am a woman, I have received the favor of the country. It is righteous to die together with the country. If you have not been a minister of a foreign country, have not failed the country's favor, and have not forgotten the teachings of your ancestors, then I can rest in peace in the ground." ("The Behavior of the Predecessor Wang Shuo")

Without women. In the human era, such a woman played the strongest voice of that era with her own life. I know that she lives in Qiandeng Ancient Town, and she should be the pride of the entire Qiandeng people, the pride of the entire Suzhou people, the pride of the entire Jiangnan people, and the pride of the entire Chinese nation. So, in the cold wind, I rushed to Qiandeng, not to pay homage, but just to feel nostalgia.

In 1680 AD, Gu Yanwu's first wife, Wang Shuoren, died of illness in Kunshan. Gu Yanwu ordered his servants to buy incense, candles and other sacrifices and arrange his wife's memorial tablet. He bowed respectfully several times and burst into tears. "My aunt Ma Xi is in Jiangcun, sending your six-year-old grandson to Huangquan. We met underground and reported to my father and grandma, but there is still one survivor left." This is a poem written by Gu Yanwu in memory of his wife. When his wife passed away in a remote town in the south of the Yangtze River, he was continuing his dream of resisting the Qing Dynasty and restoring the Ming Dynasty in the distant Shanxi Province. In the poem, he asked his wife: When you see your elderly parents underground, please tell them that I am still a survivor of the Ming Dynasty.

When the Ming Empire collapsed, and even during the Kangxi period, there were still a few people who could stick to the integrity of the nation and wait for the lingering feeling in their hearts. Even your husband's nephew, the great scholar Xu Qianxue, became a high-ranking official in the Qing court. And the husband’s words, “I am the immigrant of the Ming Dynasty” are shocking words! It is worthy of the pride of the entire Qiandeng people, the pride of the entire Suzhou people, the pride of the entire Jiangnan people, and the pride of the entire Chinese nation. So, in the cold wind, I rushed to Qiandeng, not to sigh, but just to pay homage.

Maybe it’s because it’s too close to Zhouzhuang and Jiaozhi. Qiandeng is lonely.

Even the water in the south of the Yangtze River that has been flowing for 2500 years has become calm and soothing. There is no more gurgling, no more exquisite ding-dong, it just squirms lonely and dark gray body, meandering forward. With. Even if there is the residence of Tao Yuanming's descendants, even if there are the glorious chapters written by Huizhou merchants going south, even if there is Qin Shihuang's Qiandun Lookout, even though there is the Qiandeng Museum that inscribes the bright evolution, even though there is Gu Jian, the ancestor of Baixi Opera, Of course, there is also the gentleman I want to pay homage to, Gu Yanwu.

On the flagstone street known as the longest in the south of the Yangtze River, there are no tourists, only lazy shop owners opening their shop doors with lazy hands. The raging cold wind still made each of them retract their hands from time to time. I don’t know why, I rushed to Qiandeng early in the morning, eager to pay my respects to Mr., but when I actually set foot on the stone street, I felt a little uneasy. I didn’t know how to face the moment I saw Mr., the deep feeling. Bow deeply or get down on your knees? Is my husband's grave green with pines and cypresses, like clouds of tributes, or is it deserted and lonely?

I don’t have the courage to cross the small bridge, which is only more than 50 meters long, because at the other end of the bridge is my husband’s former residence, and next to his former residence is his habitat. At this end of the bridge are Shaoqing Garden, Qiandeng Pavilion, Yanfu Temple and other attractions. So I wandered endlessly on the long stone street...

On the stone street at this end of the bridge, the flow of people slowly rose, and the smiles of tourists and the smiling faces of merchants gradually accumulated in various shops. Tempting stinky tofu and all kinds of products are now available. I know that the best way to relieve fear is to change the goal. So, being shy, I visited every store and joked with the boss about the outrageous prices.

Let’s go to the Thousand Lanterns Museum. The collection of 1,133 lanterns from ancient and modern times, Chinese and foreign, is enough to kill my fear. Walking into the exhibition hall and savoring these lights carefully, it feels like walking through the footsteps of history, opening up the gaps in the darkness, and peering into every footprint of human walking. From the shell lamp called "Master" in ancient times, to the lively and vivid animal-shaped lamps in the Han Dynasty, to the luxuriously carved and exotic lamps in the Tang Dynasty, to the lamps with carved characters that are full of life's vitality.

I remember a pair of lamps used in the Ming Dynasty. They were exquisite and had profound meanings. The lamps were composed of two lamps. Each lamp had a text engraved on the top of the candlestick. The first couplet was: Be careful and don’t meddle in human affairs; the second couplet was For: Imported, nothing to say but nothing to do. It should be a revelation to an impulsive “angry youth” like me. However, what I couldn't let go of was still the other end of the bridge, and what lingered in my mind was still Gu Yanwu.

Never mind, go for it!

The moment I stepped across the bridge, I was still surprised: compared to the numerous shops at this end, where tourists were queuing up in front of a stinky tofu stall, there was only a small beverage shop across the bridge. The owner set up a stinky tofu stall in front of the store, and the fried stinky tofu had already cooled in the cold afternoon wind. There is only one customer: me!

As soon as I stepped into the door of my former residence, I was panicked - there was a statue of Mr. at the door. The countless ways to pay respects that I had thought of came to nothing in an instant. I unconsciously bent my legs in front of Mr.'s portrait and clasped my hands together three times in a row. Indescribable currents ripple and rise in my mind. Is the person kneeling down a statue, a soul or himself? I don’t know, everything is speechless.

When I got up, I noticed the incredible look in the surprised eyes of the service staff. Yes, it was so cold that she was interrupted by my visit when she was just blowing on the air conditioner in the room. She had to come out of the greenhouse to check my ticket.

The sky is getting darker, and it is said that it will rain and snow in the evening. I was the only one walking around in the huge former residence of Gu Yanwu. Without the noise, it is a better way for the soul to flow. So from the front hall to the back courtyard, from the reading room to the back garden. My frozen hands were always touching my husband's past, trying to touch his soul, trying to find Gu Yanwu in my dream. At that time, the cold stone pillars conveyed a kind of warmth to me.

It was already 4 o'clock in the afternoon when we entered the "Practice What We Learned" hall. Under the gloomy sky, there was no light in the hall, only the faint evidence of daylight. The few visible lines stingily let go, allowing me to see the portrait of Mr. In the exhibition hall on the second floor, I saw 16 pictures of his life. There was no light, so I was unwilling to accept it, so I had to take out my mobile phone and use the weak background light to search for every bit of his life, savoring his extraordinary life. A large map of China marked Mr.'s entire footprint. After the defeat of Kunshan, his footprints traveled to more than 60 counties and cities in eight provinces and cities including Jiangsu, Zhejiang, Fujian, Shandong, Hebei, Beijing, Shanxi, and Henan. Wherever he went, he paid homage to the imperial mausoleums of the previous dynasties, inspected the situation of the country, and accumulated wealth for reconstruction. "'Traveling half the world in his life', while inspecting the situation of the mountains and rivers, he met heroes and contacted comrades, hoping to have the opportunity to restore the bright room." The so-called unswerving determination is what I am talking about, sir!

"Is there anyone up there? It's time to get off work!" It must be the waiter. Of course, the waiter is more likely to be the descendant of the gentleman. I had to come down from the second floor.

"It's so dark, why don't you turn on the lights?" Some protested, "I can't see anything, at least I can't see my life clearly!"

"Oh, then I'll turn on the light for 5 minutes, browse for a while and then leave."

5 minutes! Thank God! After thanking you hurriedly, I greedily read every line of text I could see. I stood in silence for a moment in front of the statue of my husband’s stepmother, then took out the notebook in my pocket and wrote down her last words:

Although I am a woman, I have been favored by the country, and it is righteous to die with the country. If you have not been a minister of a foreign country, have not failed the favor of the country in the world, and have not forgotten the teachings of your ancestors, then I can rest in peace underground.

After leaving the "Putting What You Learned" hall, it was getting darker outside, with light snow falling in the sky. Originally, there were several waiters accompanying my husband's former residence, but now I was the only one left. It seems like it wasn't time to get off work, so why did they leave?

At Mr. Chubu’s graveyard, the snowflakes turned into flakes. There are some cypress trees and no grand memorial hall. In the middle of the low fence surrounding the house, there is a full mound, round and lonely. In the season when the grass withers, the soil becomes pale. A thin layer of snow was sprinkled on the grave. The words "Tomb of Mr. Gu Tinglin" are written on the isolated stone tablet in front of the tomb. The body of the monument is pale, there is no date or mark on the front, and there is no inscription on the back. There are no traces of memorial service in front of the grave, really none! A lonely garden, a lonely grave, a lonely monument. When I was in the garden and in front of the lonely monument, I had mixed feelings.

I thought of the even more shabby and neglected mound at the foot of Junzhang Mountain in Wuxi, where Mr. Xue Fucheng, a representative figure of the Westernization Movement in the late Qing Dynasty, a thinker, writer, and diplomat, was buried. Should all great men be lonely? Otherwise, why would we be here?

Compared to Xue Fucheng, Mr. Xue should be somewhat comforted. After all, you have a garden and there are railings around the grave. Even though no one comes to visit, even though your descendants are also anxious to get off work.

I came to Qiandeng just for Gu Yanwu. Come and pay your respects. With my forehead touching the ground, I remained silent for three minutes, just like every moment of silence, even though I didn’t know what the silence was about.

Snow has accumulated on my body, and I left my husband alone.

The streets of thousands of lanterns are brightly lit. People enjoying the snow are laughing and singing. As a visitor in a foreign land, I feel the loneliness in a foreign land. However, in my hometown, sir, why are you lonely?