Travel Notes | Towards the Wheat Piles Outside the Fence·Hangzhou Life Notes

In the early morning, the light from the kitchen illuminated the bedroom. The light in the room was still dark. Xiaohan's back just blocked half of the sunlight, and the side corners of her skirt were shining and dancing. Xiaohan makes coffee, one cup for each person. She doesn’t like to add sugar, so it’s a cup of pure black coffee. I like to put a lot of milk powder and peach-flavored fruit powder, which has a light peach aroma and is full of milk flavor. The mellow, slightly bitter coffee can dilute the sourness of the toast. The perfect pairing, the perfect morning.

Not long after I entered the society, I was extremely uncomfortable facing the jungle law in the workplace. As a female doctor who had never even written a resume and had been studying in school, Xiaohan repeatedly reminded me that the relationship between people can only be achieved through utilization. , if you think about this clearly, you will feel much calmer about many things. I am extremely unconvinced, although I am often surprised that Xiaohan's words and deeds are extremely inconsistent with the conclusions she has drawn. We argue about it, using arguments that range from trivia, to relationships, to family trauma, to quotes. We argue to the end and never come to a conclusion. For me, a morning with flying skirts like this is an unconditional gift from God, along with Xiaohan’s coffee. Apart from the electricity bill I have to pay, it is indeed free. This is self-evident evidence and I won’t point it out to her. One year after graduation, I traveled to four cities. I didn’t deliberately calculate or do it intentionally, but I lived in each place for about three months. Israel, Shanghai, Shaoyang, Hangzhou. It’s almost March’s itch in Hangzhou. I’ve moved twice and changed jobs twice. Am I wandering or taking risks, choosing or escaping. When I left Shanghai after graduation, I felt like I was on the run. The school had lost some of its charm for me, like I was wearing a shackles, and the whole city had given me a suspended sentence. I realize that I am still the same person I was when I was eighteen.

When I was eighteen years old, half a month before the college entrance examination, and my genius had just dawned, I ran away from school, got on the bus, and never went back. I went to a private school that was completely closed and managed. There was a circle of iron fences and monitors around the playground. I queued up for meals every day and had self-study in the evenings. It was suffocating. After seeing Van Gogh's "Prison" , the distorted faces of prisoners surrounded by high gray walls have an amazing resonance for me. I don’t like to talk. I sit in the last row of the classroom. My desk is piled with review materials. I only have a copy of "In Search of Lost Time" placed in the corner of the desk. This is my dream. Proust’s sleepless night has since started my literary dream, and it is also my greatest expectation for college. It is conceivable that girls like me are prone to campus bullying. The reason is never clear. As Louis said, the Nazis hated the Jews for no reason at first, and then they persecuted them. When you persecute the Jews, you hate them even more. You should never open an opening for evil. Once you open it, it will be overwhelming. This is human nature. I don't need to put myself in the position of a victim, because obviously, if I could change my position, I would immediately become a perpetrator, one of the wolves who would not let go of the lone lamb. Only. In my class, there may be very few people who can go to college. I sit in the last row and can be a calm observer almost like the teacher. Don't underestimate the age of seventeen or eighteen. Just like the adult world, it is full of money, sex, jealousy and lies. It’s just that when I was young, I didn’t know how to package myself. When I really can't calm down, I will stand at the back of the classroom. There is an unwritten rule in the class. If you are tired, you can go to the back and stand as long as you don't disturb other people. Every time at this moment, I feel as if I have escaped from the living environment, looking at this place like a god, as if I can hear their whispers and see the suspicion in their eyes.

Sound and Fury. I wrote these five characters on the wall. Then, it was like a revelation. I saw the sweetest smile in the world, as selfless as Xiaohan’s morning coffee. A girl sitting in the front row looked back at me and smiled. If I could freeze it, I would measure the arc of the smile, its proportion on the entire face, the perspective angle it forms with the entire classroom, the refraction of light, and the reaction with my retina should all be carefully calculated. Yes, it is a white lily that is watered by the light of the Holy Spirit in a downtown concentration camp. Please allow me to describe it this way, and I believe my Heavenly Father will not blame me for it. I don’t know how to describe it, but I can go back to the dark seat in the corner and sit down, filled with all the happiness and tranquility I have been given. The light was not on me, the light was on the girl. It started to rain all over the snow-covered cave, and it suddenly turned into an ocean, and I could swim in it.

Rousseau said he wanted to put a gold fence around the place where he first met his "mother," and the romantic Frenchman did just that for him. And what can I do? I cannot save my memory. I am not a painter. If I hold this painting and say it is the greatest human work, will the Louvre expel me? The poems I write are always short of something. The narrative is not precise enough. Imagination Power is extremely limited. I don’t believe that art can make anything immortal, nor can I keep a person’s heart pure forever. The emotion will disappear and the girl has faded. But if I am still searching, still marveling, and letting myself stay at the age of eighteen forever, will I not be considered a loser? I'm not escaping, I'm just a performance artist.

My luggage was packed, packed and lost again, and I had to buy a new kitchen knife every time I arrived in a new city. Constantly moving places forces you to choose what you need most. I made a list for those who are also planning to travel long distances.

1. An eleven-inch small computer. Easy to carry and easy to save files.

2. Reader. Carrying books everywhere is a burden, and losing them feels like a sin. Giving books to people is like giving pets. You have to choose the right person. Some people just take them and collect dust. I think the book you sent is an eyesore.

3. Cell phone. Although I was dissatisfied that modern civilization made it impossible to leave this small coffin, I also lost the courage to be irresponsible when I first entered college. I lived in seclusion in the mountains for half a month. When the semester was about to start, I told the counselor that the signal was not good in the mountains. So I can't reply to the message. Now without Google Maps or Amap, it would be difficult for me to move forward. The most important thing is that I no longer dare to reply to anyone’s messages after half a month.

4. Camera. I don’t like taking pictures, and people tend to be pretentious when it comes to lenses, but I bought this small mirrorless camera when I decided to start traveling far away. Take photos of what you want to commemorate most in a city. Don’t think that you can come back next time. Whether it’s a person or a city, treat every encounter as parting.

5. Rice cooker. The rice cooker can really be used as a universal kitchenette that I can carry around with me. This can ensure that no matter where I live, I can live without eating takeout and instant noodles.

I slowly integrated into this city. The climate is not much different from that of Shanghai. I have long been accustomed to the Jiangnan water town, but I still don’t understand Wu Nong’s soft language. Rainy days are not like Shanghai, which always lasts continuously, nor does it rain all at once, like when a person wants to sneeze but can't. The rain in Hangzhou will also be gentle and drizzle, but sometimes it will suddenly pour down, and it will not be stingy, catching you off guard. White walls and green tiles, the ancient city is crisscrossed by new streets, and the happiest thing is that I can get together with teachers and old friends I once knew.

My home in Hangzhou is probably the best in my wandering life. There are ant nests and geckos in the dormitory in Kibuz, Israel. There are cockroaches, centipedes, and spiders in the single room I rented in Shanghai. When I was in my hometown, there were occasionally mice in the kitchen. Many of those insects I couldn't name. I stayed with a sister in Hangzhou. She is five years older than me and is much more mature than my peers, but she is more childlike than my eldest sister. I would take a nap in the morning, and she would get up very early to pray and sing hymns. When I was half asleep and half awake, I would think that the sound was coming from the window, just like people in the Middle Ages were awakened by the ringing of church bells. After staying here for two months, I had no choice but to move because I changed jobs and it took more than three hours to go back and forth. I later quit my job, but I don’t regret living here at all. Although it is far away from the city, It takes more than an hour to go anywhere, but the housing prices are very cheap. The room was very simple, a single apartment with one bedroom, a kitchen, and a toilet, connected to a shared balcony outside.

When I was still in Shanghai, Xiaohan wanted to come and have a look. She said that she had never been to the east. I told her that I was in Hangzhou now. If you want to come, just squeeze in with me in this poor and closed hut. She came right away with her suitcase, made me coffee every morning, and called her long-distance boyfriend from the balcony. Once, when she woke up in the morning, she suddenly cried. I asked her why she was crying. She said that she had a dream and found that she could not find her boyfriend’s contact information no matter what, just like his father. It's like he disappeared from home. She asked me, why people can never get out of the shadow of childhood? I don't know how to answer, just like I haven't left my private high school, Xiaohan doesn't want to go home. During the plague, her parents were fighting over their divorce. I suddenly remembered that when I was in Kibez, Israel, I watched the sunset with the volunteers. When everyone talked about why they came to this place, everyone seemed to be avoiding it. Maybe it's the hard reality, maybe it's the difficult family conflict. But I am not running away. Again, I am a warrior, a warrior who breaks through the fence and steps towards my haystack.

My high school used fences to surround the playground, cafeteria, dormitories, and teaching buildings. We lived inside the fence every day. We had dinner at six in the morning, went back to the dormitory to rest at ten in the evening, and lined up to go to class. The only time I can take a breath is when I go to the toilet alone for a while during evening study. The toilet has a door in the cubicle. Sometimes you can hear the sound of sex in the toilet next to you. You never know who is inside.

There is a cornfield outside the fence, and the students joke that it is a natural sex sanctuary and a free hotel. The teachers would sternly tell us not to leave school and run there at night. The cornfields rustled and dark shadows swayed at night, as if some shady deals were being made. I didn't dare to go there, I didn't even dare to look, for fear that I would be sucked in and never get out. But during the day, outside the fence, there was a large open space next to the cornfield, and there was a small tall wheat stack. I never quite knew what it was. From my point of view, it looks like an island. After leaving the fence and crossing the cornfield, you can stand on the wheat stack. I really want to see what it looks like when looking into the fence from the wheat stack. Every morning, the school organizes students to run in circles around the playground. I pass by my stack of wheat over and over again, thinking about what it looks like from there. I must go to that stack of wheat when I leave school. Take a look inside.

So my pilgrimage did not start from Shanghai, I started from the school where I went to high school. I never went back to my high school, nor did I go to that playground again, nor did I stand on that stack of wheat. . Now I am still in the fence, looking at my wheat stack, I am still moving forward, walking there little by little...