The Story of Beijing Hutong

Story of Beijing Hutong 1 Fifteen years ago, I was born in an alley near Qianmen, Beijing, which runs through the north and south and connects the lives of thousands of families. I can't remember the specific name, but the harmonious atmosphere in the neighborhood is still printed in my mind.

It is no more famous than "Shi Jia Hutong, Sanyanjing Hutong". It is just an ordinary hutong, like a bond, which brings people together here. When I was two years old, due to the pressure of my parents' work, I always lived in my grandfather's house-this hutong. Sometimes I play across the hall, and sometimes I go next door. I only remember the neighbor's haircut-not a resplendent high-rise storefront, but a roadside stall a few dollars ago; There is also a seller of vegetables and fruits-not a clean and tidy fruit shop, but an old manned tricycle with a few boards built on it, converted into a truck and sold by bicycle. Early in the morning, as soon as the sky was a little white, they got up early and worked with the cock crowing somewhere. It's all about ordinary people and ordinary things. The ordinary you can't recognize in the crowd, the ordinary you can't remember in memory.

One summer, the sun was shining, which was a good opportunity to go out and play. Grandpa went to the newsstand a few blocks away, and grandma was chatting with her neighbors in the yard. I don't want to stay at home and lock the door like this-this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! I quietly pushed open the door and walked out of the yard.

When I was more than two years old, I stopped and walked until my eyes became different. I slipped into a small shop on the side of the road to have a rest. It's beautiful to be carefree!

The boss heard the noise, saw that it was just a child who came out to play, and went back to the house. Look at me from time to time to make sure I'm still here.

Just as I was taking a leisurely nap, the two old people at home were already sweating and anxious. On a hot summer day, under the scorching sun, they asked their neighbors for clues. They were so enthusiastic that they didn't leave until they reached the corner of the path. Finally, they found me there. Later things are not clear, but I often hear grandma talk about how warm and helpful her neighbors are. While speaking, his brow also stretched for a few minutes. I often feel sorry for them.

An ordinary little thing that ordinary people do in ordinary hutongs has become an extraordinary thing that lingers in my heart.

When reading Camel Xiangzi, there are many descriptions of the Beijing flavor of hutong, and the words written by Lao She are so vivid and lifelike. But it is close to the book, but far from the memory.

The last time I went to Hutong was this winter vacation, and a group of four people came to Nanluoguxiang. In my eyes, it is just an empty shell with the name of "Hutong". This hutong has delicious food and anime shop, but it lacks ordinary people and ordinary things. But it has become a tourist attraction in one fell swoop and has become extraordinary.

The story of Beijing Hutong continues and is still being written. But with the change of time, many things have faded out of people's sight. I don't know how many ordinary people can add up extraordinary. I only know that the share that belongs to my heart is extraordinary, timeless and engraved in my heart. Thirteen years later, I want to say loudly to my old neighbor, "Thank you!"

Story 2 of Beijing Hutong "Yo! Uncle Wang, you are busy! " "Well, busy! Xiao Wang, you come back so early, take good care of the children! " "Well, I've been busy recently and have little time to look after the children. When Tao Tao grows up, no one can take care of him. " After that, Xiao Wang rode away in a hurry, and he was not busy greeting his neighbors on the road.

Chuanzi Hutong has a short history, but it is very popular. You can meet people anytime and anywhere. Office workers who come and go in the morning, aunts who wander around the bay at noon, not to mention at night. When Xiao Wang came home, he saw a child running in the yard, but because he ran too fast, he couldn't find a good balance and fell to the ground. Yes, the child in front of me is Tao Tao. His name is Wang Xueliang. Xiao Wang was very distressed to see his child fall to the ground. He ran to pick him up and asked, "Does it hurt?" "It hurts!" "It doesn't matter, it won't hurt if you wipe it!" "Come on, Grandma, give me a candy." It was Uncle Wang's wife, Aunt Sun, who spoke because they had no children and Xiao Wang happened to be an orphan. So Aunt Sun naturally took this two fathers as her son and grandson. Although they are not a family, they are better than a family. In this way, the "family" lives in laughter.

Ten years later, Aunt Sun became ill. Uncle Wang sold all his possessions to treat Aunt Sun, but the money was still not enough. Xiao Wang also gave money, hoping that Aunt Sun would get better soon, but it backfired. Aunt Sun passed away. Before she died, she said to Xiao Wang, "Xiao Wang! I know I can't last long, but before I die, I want to go back to Chuanzi Hutong, and Xiao Wang has done so, and Aunt Sun is also very happy. That day, she left, and she walked peacefully. A few years later, Uncle Wang died, and many neighbors in the hutong moved away. Their wish was to go back and have a look.

Twenty years later, the Hutong began to be demolished, and Xiao Wang was no longer Xiao Wang but Lao Wang, and Tao Tao also grew up. One day, Tao Tao helped his father look back at the old hutong, which was deserted, but the scarlet letter "torn down" on the wall made Lao Wang sigh and go back. That night, Lao Wang had a dream. In the dream, he seems to have returned to the alley and saw Aunt Sun and Uncle Wang. They laughed so peacefully. ...

Story of Beijing Hutong 3 The hutongs in old Beijing inherit the historical context, and Nanluoguxiang is one of the old hutongs.

Everyone says that Beijingers don't like to go to famous tourist attractions, but I have a soft spot for Nanluoguxiang. The memory of my childhood pushed it from the bottom of the sea to the beach.

Maybe when I was 4 or 5 years old, my mother was very excited and wanted to take me to Nanluoguxiang. I was full of curiosity about some things at that time. I met it when I was young. Gray-black old quadrangles, quiet streets, and occasional shade ... These quiet things have made me like silence, and my affection for it has doubled. At this time, Nanluoguxiang is quiet, but also rich, full of simplicity and humanistic atmosphere. Looking for a quiet heart for a long time, I met Nanluoguxiang. There, it is full of the nature and tranquility of the old hutong.

Now, I often go to Nanluoguxiang. And every time I go, I can't find the original feeling anymore. I know that in today's bustling Beijing, that kind of scene will never appear again.

I have been looking forward to a trip to Nanluoguxiang by one person or several people. I hope that in these tens of thousands of attempts, I can experience a moment of peace, even if it is only a moment.

During the May Day holiday, I went to Nanluoguxiang alone. It's still the old quadrangle, with occasional shade, but the quiet streets are replaced by tourists from all over the world. And those modern shops that didn't exist before are constantly emerging-creative clothes, fancy coffee, desserts, milk tea, yogurt and so on. But there is not much food in old Beijing. These commercial shops hide the simplicity of Nanluoguxiang. I walked silently into the sea of people, and what I felt was not excitement, but loneliness from the inside out. In fact, I just found out that sometimes excitement is only superficial, and no matter how lonely people are, they can't change it. Although this Nanluoguxiang is lively, it is far from what I am looking for.

During the winter vacation, I walked hand in hand with my classmates. Nanluoguxiang has some quiet atmosphere because it is cold and sparsely populated. And the music released by various small shops, in my opinion, is basically commercial, purely to attract customers, without the feeling of that year. My heart is still thinking about the quiet street in my childhood. It is quiet, and it can only be regarded as quiet.

Today, Beijing is developing rapidly, but its ancient flavor is declining. I can't keep up with it with my bare feet. There were many tall buildings in front of me, and when I looked back, it was deserted.

However, I can't keep up with the pace of Beijing's development, but I will never forget my meeting with the old hutong in Beijing in my heart. On the surface, it has stopped, but in fact it is still going on!

Story 4 Hutong is in Beijing Hutong. This place sounds different from other buildings. This unique place has been with me since I was born. It is also for this reason that Hutong has been given a different meaning in my heart. Every day, people and Hutong are creating different stories for each other, and so am I.

I remember when I stumbled, I held my mother's hand tightly, and thousands of people were dragged into an unknown place reluctantly. However, I saw uneven small stone bricks reflecting their own shadows on the ground, fluffy moss standing on the stone steps, and red lanterns on the eaves like being greeted by the sun. At that time, I looked up at my mother, and the word "Hutong" came out of my gentle and curved mouth. This is my first impression of hutong. Mother's hair was printed as bright and mature red-brown as glass under the high light.

After graduating from kindergarten, I will arrive at a strange place-primary school. Strangeness makes me uneasy, but once I get to the hutong and feel my mother's temperature, I am not afraid of anything. At the moment when my body clings to my mother's back, let me believe that the love between me and my mother is like the temperature on the wall of an alley, which will never stop. Even when night comes, the morning sun will shine on the wall.

"Mom, I'm tired!" I clung to my mother's hand, perhaps because I walked too long. I wanted to comfort her, but I didn't expect her to sit on the stone steps in front of the alley and signal me to go up and carry her. I held the stone steps with both hands, and my whole body was attached to them. I instantly felt the wonder of the cool stone steps with residual temperature. Two pairs embrace my skin, and the residual temperature, like blood, runs through my body from the tip. I climbed onto my mother's back, and the temperature of that back continued to spread over me, more like the temperature of love.

This will make me taller, and my two little hands have been touching the wall of the alley. I feel its hardness and straightness, which makes me feel the same sense of security when I am with my mother. Hold out your hands to intercept the lantern overhead, and hold out your hands to reach grandpa's sugar man by the roadside. From time to time, I hook my mother's hair with my hand and say hello to two words of unclear blame.

Now, I took my mother to the hutong. At this time, there are bookstores and cafes, but we found an unusual bench to sit down. Talking about the things we are interested in, maybe there is a small stone step that I tripped over here when I was a child. I looked at the willow tree sticking out of the small bungalow in front of me and listened to a string of ringing bells passing by my ear. I didn't need to think about it, but I knew that there must be Sugar-Coated Berry behind me. I suddenly grabbed my mother's hand. Oh, my God, what's going on? Why are there so many cracks? I can't believe I never knew. I looked at my mother, who smiled and said nothing. Mother's hair was lifted by a breeze, which must have run through every corner of the alley. Silver silk thread floated out of my brown hair and flashed in my eyes.

My story with Hutong is like my love with my mother. Even if it is sometimes cold, it can flow into the blood in the body, from the tip of the nose to the heart, and never stop. The temperature of hutong will always stay on my mother's back and in my heart.

Story 5 of Beijing Hutong This used to be my home. I, my father, my grandfather and my family all had unforgettable or warm stories with it.

When I was a child, I felt that the hutong where my home was located could lead anywhere. Whether it is a road or a small shop, this hutong seems to have magic power and can lead to every corner of the world.

This alley is called Wudaowan Hutong. Just like its vivid name, it really has five corners and finally leads to the road. And my home is at the end of the first turn, which is a small quadrangle.

Turning the corner, it is a path of about fifteen meters. The roofs on both sides are covered with crumbling tiles, and the brick roads are "one after another" at the foot. At the second corner, there are two round stone piers, half of which are embedded in the wall. One is lying and the other is standing. I still remember when I was a child, I was not as high as a stone pier, clamoring for my mother to hold me on the "observation deck", pretending to look around, and then jumping from a height. That's the fun of children. Now that I have grown up, when I pass by there, I will only hear my father say that the stone pier was originally used for grinding, and then I will try my best to identify the blurred patterns on the stone pier.

The third turn is short, but it looks like five or six meters. But in the middle of the corridor, which is not spacious, there is a bodhi tree standing upright. In summer, I often buy a popsicle from a small shop and eat it in that tree with wide and dense branches and leaves. But this tree has also brought some small troubles to people. Dad once told me when he passed by here. When he was a child, he and his classmates often rode through this alley. Once riding a bicycle, he didn't remember there was another tree here when he turned the corner, so he rushed over and passed through the gap between the tree and the wall. Looking back afterwards is also a cold sweat.

I'm afraid to take the fourth and fifth turns alone. Because there is a family living at the corner of the four or five corners, and there is also a dog, and the door is often open to let the dog in and out freely.

In the past, Wudaowan Hutong was preceded by Shijiakeng Hutong and followed by Lujia Hutong. Now, there are no hutongs before and after, leaving only Wudaowan. Maybe soon, it will disappear without a trace. Not only disappear from people's sight, but also disappear from people's memory. It is not only an alley that has disappeared, but also its name, the memory it once had, and the Beijing culture hidden in the depths of the alley. This hutong has existed since my grandfather's time. Maybe my grandfather's father and grandfather's grandfather have been here and witnessed the changes of the times. Every generation in our family used to play here.

If Wudaowan Hutong disappears, it will be my lifelong regret. My childhood is over. If the five bends branded with memory no longer exist, how many years later, can I still remember them?

Hutong inherits memories, spreads culture and conveys China's 5,000-year-old folk customs. This is the story of my former home, Wudaowan Hutong.