One summer, the lake level rose so high that a three-year-old child fell into the water and fainted when someone saw him lifting him up. His family spent about an hour on the grain drying field by the lake, using various methods to control the lake water sucked into the child's belly. Finally, when they thought of hurriedly boating to Chunhui to see the school doctor, it was no longer possible. This was the first time I saw someone die in person, and the feeling of panic lingered in my night dreams for a long time. Later I went out to study, and gradually learned about the small fame of Chunhui and Baima Lake. Thinking of the mountains and lakes where I grew up, and how I was lucky enough to be favored by so many modern celebrities, I felt quite proud and excited. When I went to Chunhui again for a walk, I stepped on the small gravel road leading to the outer village, and I recalled the small cinder road written by Zhu Ziqing, and I thought about it a thousand times. In the winter of 2001, I went to Chunhui Middle School for a teaching internship. The teacher who introduced and guided me was a distant relative of the school’s first principal, Jing Hengyi. His office was different from others in that it was not within the school, but was located outside the north gate of the school. A mountain house. I went to look for him, entered a small courtyard, climbed to the second floor, and found the small room where he worked. After listening to his introduction, I found out that this was the Wanqing Shanfang where Li Shutong lived when he settled in Chunhui. This teacher works here and is also responsible for organizing the materials of Chunhui sages, including Master Hongyi. Speaking of the old days, he shook his head and sighed. When Master Hongyi left a batch of calligraphy and paintings in Wanqing Shanfang to "destroy the Four Olds", they were all collected by the surrounding villagers and used as paper for cutting shoe patterns. Imagine those calligraphy and paintings that penetrate the meaning of Buddhism, being cut into footprints one by one amidst the sound of women's cloth scissors, and then gradually turning yellow and brittle in someone's sewing drawer, until they are annihilated into powder, and then they are turned into powder. What kind of flavor?
Some time ago, my mother called and said that the family was in the process of "new rural construction" again. She was very happy: "This time, the walls outside every house will be painted white, and the water islands in the lake will also be renovated!"
Speaking of which, Baima Lake seems to have improved a lot over the years. The limelight of “new countryside”. The bridge was fixed on the lake, the road was built by the lake, street lights were erected, the narrow and old river port was rebuilt, the island in the lake was widened, taller and longer, stones were built around it, covered with cement, and one end was connected to the other. The river banks are connected, and a row of osmanthus trees are planted to create a landscape for strolling, and equipment for leisure activities is installed. But in this way, the running water that originally flowed to the back of Xiaozhou was almost blocked. When I was young, it was common for my parents to row a boat to the center of the lake to collect clean water for drinking water for the day before it was fully dark. A few years ago, my mother no longer dared to go to the lake to wash rice and wash vegetables. Few children go swimming in the lake anymore. Of course, at this time, the home already has tap water that is more convenient and cleaner than lake water, so there is no need to worry about Baima Lake for water. What's more, compared to the past, this kind of life is always lighter and more comfortable. For the busy farmers who had to be trapped in the astronomical geography for generations, this is good news.
My White Horse Lake is still the loveliest place in the world to me. But the lake that belongs to me in my memory may only be missed.