Emotional stories, rural essays in the sunset.

It's been many days since I sent the Song Hao brothers away. I often go to dusk alone.

The world is vast and the mountains and rivers are green. The vast yellow sand of the Jushui River glowed with gold in the sunset. In the clouds and the sky, some swallows are spinning and chirping, as if calling for returnees from afar. It's like I think of brother hiromatsu's vague shadow. I want to send a bunch of homesickness, tie it up with gold thread left by dusk and bring it into his arms.

I have known the Song Hao brothers for many years. More than ten years ago, at an academic conference in Lushan, two strangers with the same surname lived together, and after some greetings, they began to make friends. Hearing that I am from Macheng, Hubei, Brother Hao Song said with great excitement: His ancestors were from Xiaogan, Macheng. I said: There seems to be no "Xiaogan Township" in Macheng. There is a place in Hubei called Xiaogan, but it is not a township. It used to be a county, but now it has become a city. Brother hiromatsu doesn't believe it. The old people there said that as early as the end of the Yuan Dynasty and the beginning of the Ming Dynasty, their ancestors moved to Jianyang, and their genealogy was also recorded. I was a little confused, so I told something about Macheng's "Wang" surname. Later, I said, if everything is true, then we may really be a clan. Brother Hiromatsu kept nodding.

I believe we are predestined friends. Same surname, same occupation, thousands of miles away to a strange place, attending the same academic conference, living in the same room. The meeting was very cordial and strange, and he vowed that his ancestral home was where I lived.

After that meeting, we left our mailing address, and we agreed to go home and find a family tree to prove our fate.

When you get home, talk to your parents about it. Father said: Our hometown was moved from Dafan Village in Wuyuan, Anhui Province (now Jiangxi Province), or in the Yuan Dynasty. First he lived in Huangshi, Dongshan, and then he went to the Bird Forest. In the middle of the Qing Dynasty, all the twelve ancestors moved to this place called Loulingtan. The current genealogy only records our branch, but the previous events are not clear, and I have never heard of a Xiaogan township in Macheng.

I'm a little disappointed. I wrote back to my brother Song Hao and told him what I knew. Brother Song Hao wrote back that he hasn't found his family tree yet, but he is working hard, but he believes his ancestral home is Macheng.

In this way, it has lasted for many years.

The pendulum of time, or like wind erosion, annihilates what has been annihilated, and the precipitation is precipitated. One day, I accidentally read an article by Mr. Ling, a native of Yicheng, about immigrants in Xiaogan Township, Macheng. For an instant, I remembered the face of my senior brother who was far away between Bashan and Shushui. I am ashamed of my shallowness. However, after years of rambling, I can't find any previous letters anyway. I can only silently blame myself: in the distant Bashan, there are relatives with the same roots as me. On a moonlit night or dusk, I stare at the lake and think of my ancestors who left their homes and traveled across mountains and rivers during their long journey.

The bitterness, blood and tears, and stains have always been the imprint of the genealogy.

20 12 in July, I heard that Lin Zhi, a bird of the Wangs, wanted to renew his family tree. I was curious about the origin of the Wang family and stumbled across the Wang family network. Coincidentally, I found Wang's post on Wang's clan network. With a grain of salt, by telling what happened in Lushan many years ago, it was really that gentleman!

Later, as far as I know, I introduced the research results of immigrant culture in Xiaogan Township of Macheng in recent years, especially the Monument to the Capital written by Zou Zhixin and Hao Song brothers in the late Ming Dynasty. Brother Hao Song said: He is also very concerned about these things. In recent years, many scholars from Sichuan and Chongqing have studied and promoted Macheng's immigrant culture, which is well known to those who pay little attention to it. Unfortunately, in his hometown of Jianyang, Wang's surname is very scattered, and he didn't find a complete genealogy. He only knew that his ancestor was Wang Xingde, who moved to Yuelianggou, Ganfeng Town, Jianzhou from the beginning, and had three sons, all of whom were his descendants. I said, it's not very important whether there is genealogy proof or not, and we are not engaged in academic research. Come to Macheng for a walk when it is convenient, see the ancient rhododendron community, see the ancient Xiaogan township and enjoy the beautiful scenery of Xinghua Village. Brother Song Hao said: When I retire, I will definitely visit my ancestral home, but I have fulfilled my long-cherished wish for many years.

On May 14, I suddenly received a message from Senior Brother Song Hao. Brother Song Hao said: He wants to come here in a few days.

Just after twelve o'clock, I met the Song Hao brothers again at Macheng North Station. After a night and a morning of train bumps, the Song Hao brothers were a little tired. I haven't seen you for more than ten years. I'm getting a lot fatter and older, but my tone of voice hasn't changed, just like in a hotel in Lushan. After a short rest after lunch, my brother wants to see the remains of the Wang family in his hometown at the first stop. In the past 800 years, after Wang moved from Wuyuan to Macheng, he moved numerous times in Yuan, Ming and Qing Dynasties, and there were really few relics to mourn. The Wangs in Macheng have not been particularly prominent in these years, and no large-scale memorial service has been held. Let me briefly introduce the basic situation of the Macheng Wangs. It is inferred that when his ancestors moved to Sichuan, it was the early years of Hongwu, and when my ancestors moved to Sichuan from Huangshi in Dongshan, it was also at that time, and the time periods were very consistent. Who knows what happened in history?

Later, we went to Xiaogan Township. In front of the newly-built Monument to the Capital by Zou Zhixin, we laboriously read the words above, "In the early Ming Dynasty, the Shu land was vast, the Shu road was dangerous, and all the villagers lived here ..." In those years, the vigorous migration was carried out here, parents separated, children separated, and from the Yangtze River, upstream, I don't know how many dark beaches there were. How tragic and sad it is to think of that scene! Fortunately, our ancestors, no matter how helpless, resolutely survived, overcame numerous difficulties and obstacles, and survived tenaciously in the desolate Sichuan, and the melons grew. Perhaps no matter how hard they work, they all have a belief in their hearts: if you ask them where their ancestral home is, Xiaogan Township, Macheng, Huguang. ...

My brother Song Hao and I reluctantly left the archway in Xiaogan Township. In Shenjiazhuang, we saw some traces of history: a stone mill full of vicissitudes. I wonder if Zou Zhixin wrote "The Stone Mill is the Way"? At dusk, Brother Song Hao and I were sitting on the stem of the dike. There are Chinese rose flowers everywhere, red, pink and white, which are badly bloomed and thorough. On the grass, in the ravine and on the dam, freedom is burning. This is the most common flower in Huguang country, with green thorns and green leaves. Seemingly casual, but in fact full of persistence, unrestrained. When I was a child, I liked to pick its tender stems and peel off its light blue skin, which had a sweet and astringent taste and lasted for half a day. Now, our descendants no longer like it. Carrying water is different from before, much more turbulent and wider than it is now. Seventy years ago, my grandfather followed this torrent and went retrograde to Sichuan to buy ancient wood. Later, due to the diversion of rivers and uncontrolled logging by human beings, a lot of soil erosion was caused. Unless it is a flood season, you will never see the vast blue waves again. The water in front of us has dried up, and the yellow sand is endless and bumpy. Song Hao and I were standing on the riverbed. Brother Song Hao said: I really can't imagine that their ancestors started their gloomy migration journey from here. How many troubled creatures died in the trek out of their homeland. It is a miracle that our ancestors survived. I said: People are human because of their tenacity, faith and persistence. Throughout the ages, human beings have experienced countless disasters, but they have come out with faith and wisdom. Your ancestors were like this, and so were my ancestors. Standing on the long levee, what emerges in front of us is the scene of Huguang filling Sichuan, and some old fathers and mothers look at the vast clear water. That gesture is heroic and vicissitudes. "But I look to my hometown, the twilight is getting thicker, and there is a sad mist on the river waves." How much melancholy and sadness is there in the desolate place?

Later, we visited Xiaogan Township Immigrant Park. Although the construction has just started, it is only a corner, but I believe this huge project will definitely become a hall for people to enlighten their hearts and pursue the future cautiously!

20th is the day when the Song Hao brothers leave. At the North Railway Station, I watched the bullet train start slowly and roared away. I know that when I broke up with the Song Hao brothers, it might be a farewell. Inexplicable sadness. Knowing each other in this life, there is fate in the dark. This kind of fate may be the vine left by our ancestors, which connects our hearts together. Du Fu's "Heaven is * * * far away, jathyapple is lonely" is about this kind of lingering knot.

Three days later, I received an email from my brother Song Hao. Apart from some pleasantries, it is more important to tell me a message: Brother Song Hao is anxious to find his roots because of some special material environment. He wants to return to his hometown in good health and complete his dream of returning in his lifetime. When I arrived, I also sent a poem: "The wind is a few years higher than autumn, so I send my old friend sorrow. I dare to say that I am reluctant to give up, but I dare not sign the sail and want to stay. Carrying water across the river is far away, and filial piety is in the countryside. Now I live in Bashan, and my children and grandchildren look at the first mountain. " It is said that when the train went west that day, it was written on the way home.

Children and grandchildren look at the first mountain! My mood suddenly became dignified. I finally understand that he suddenly sought his roots this time. Facing the future, I have to say something comforting. May he get out of the haze soon!

The light of life is a kind of inheritance after all. There is hope and future with inheritance, so life is always full of bright colors. Sometimes, I think about my family tree and look at the long list of strange names, which stretch in a straight line like vines. Every life is like a fruit on a vine. First it blooms, then it forms green fruit, and the fruit turns yellow and gets old. At the same time, the new bud blooms, and then it forms green fruits, like ears of wheat. No matter how long the time is, no matter how tired the heart is, no matter how difficult the road is, no matter how far the footsteps go, they are the eternal snuggling of our souls and the chicken soup for the soul that we often recall in our dreams! For us, they are not boring and monotonous names in the genealogy. They have flesh and blood, spirit and sex, and past lives! Through these vines, we see the rise and fall of a family. In fact, a nation and a country are the same.

The essence of people's root-seeking is to find a spiritual pillar. With the support of the soul, the soul will become bright!