Chapter 64: 146 chapters, Liu Guozong never speaks of giving up

146 chapters, Liu Guozong never speaks of giving up.

146 chapters, Liu Guozong never speaks of giving up.

When I was a youth studying, I often heard the teacher tell the story of the 'Yellow Millet Dream'. I once secretly laughed at that scholar who wanted fame and fortune, being too obsessed.

Since the pursued ideal cannot be realized, why not give up?

Later, after reading Lu Xun's essay 'Autumn Night', I realized that advising that scholar in the 'Yellow Millet Dream' to give up his beautiful dream was wrong.

You see, in the deep autumn night, the strange and lofty sky, cold stars scattered, the bleak cold wind mixed with flying frost, striking the withered yellow grasses and trees.

At this moment of 'autumn wind bleak, weather cold, plants shake and fall, dew becomes frost', those flowers and grasses that once bloomed red and purple have long ceased to dream of spring.

But you never imagined, in those withered yellow grass thickets.

There is also 'a kind that once bore extremely tiny pink flowers, still blooming now but even tinier. She, in the cold night air, shrinks back dreaming, dreaming of spring's arrival, dreaming of autumn's arrival, dreaming of the thin poet wiping his tears on her last petal, telling her that although autumn has come, winter has come, and after that comes spring, butterflies flutter wildly, bees begin to sing spring verses. She then smiles, although her color is frozen red and miserable, she still shrinks back.'

This is truly something I never expected: in the deep autumn of bleak autumn wind and cold weather, there actually still blooms a tiny pink flower, and even in the cold night air it 'shrinks back dreaming.'

And also 'dreaming of spring's arrival, dreaming of autumn's arrival, dreaming of the thin poet wiping his tears on her last petal'. Although she is very tiny, what kind of spirit is this? I am moved by this tiny pink flower!

In deep autumn, myriad trees wither, a hundred flowers fade, yet only in those wild grass thickets do a few tiny pink flowers bloom, shrinking back in the cold night air while dreaming of spring. How unyielding and steadfast! How noble!

I had long heard the story of Zhuang Zhou dreaming of becoming a butterfly. This Zhuang Zhou is too noble—he dreams of nothing else but himself turning into a butterfly.

Originally I understood that Zhuang Zhou turning into a butterfly in his dream was due to his childlike heart not dying, somewhat like Lu Xun's Ah Q spirit.

Later I came to know that Zhuang Zhou's butterfly dream was Laozi's lifelong ideal and struggle goal.

Butterflies are small insects that do not eat human food. These small insects spend their whole lives among flower clusters, dancing with clear breezes and sunlight, accompanying bright flowers and green leaves, and having no contention with worldly fame and profit.

What a noble dream this is! In this world, the person who dreams this way, Zhuang Zhou is the first; before and after him no one has done such a dream, truly unprecedented and unmatched.

No matter who, if one can reach such an unprecedented and unmatched realm, how moving is his living story? Such a dream I once wanted to achieve but could never manage. Now I know that such a dream is certainly not something ordinary mortals like us can achieve.

I recall Mr. Lu Xun also said: 'The times are changing, the rice bowl is this hard; think of now and the future, some people can only speak of dreams in this way.'

Yes, whether now or in the future, the rice bowl is hard. As long as one lives, the first necessity is to eat. The people regard food as heaven.

Someone like Zhuang Zhou who dreams of turning himself into a butterfly is unparalleled in the world.

But later I realized that was merely Zhuang dreaming. When Zhuang Zhou awoke from his dream, his wife asked him for food, clothing, and a place to live; then he stopped having the absurd dream of turning himself into a butterfly. Thus, with friends' guidance and help, he went to work at the rubber lacquer garden, becoming a small boss. Later dreams, he neither wrote nor did I read them.

Is it possible that Zhuang Zhou dreamed of himself, from a small boss, adding his own wisdom and effort, becoming a big boss? I don't know. I think that as long as one is human, one will surely dream of advancing from a small boss to a big boss! Moreover, Zhuang Zhou possesses such great wisdom.

'Dream of the Red Chamber' has a verse: '? cold locks dream due to spring chill, fragrant air assails like wine aroma.'

That is the dream of talented scholars and beauties. In the early spring '? cold' era, there is also 'flower fragrance' and 'wine fragrance', which is not a dream we working folk can have. We are busy all day like spinning tops; where is there the leisurely heart and mood of 'spring dreams scatter with the clouds, flying flowers follow the flowing water'? In the scene of 'gazing upon mountains all red, forests fully dyed; rivers vast and clear, hundreds of boats vying for flow. Eagles strike the void, fish swim in shallow waters, myriad creatures in frosty skies indeed free.'

Today, who still goes to 'dream of being a recluse'? That would be too absurd; better to 'dream of being a fisherman or woodcutter'!

Now it is exactly deep autumn, friend, look at that 'tiny pink flower', how tenacious and unyielding: 'She, in the cold night air, shrinks back dreaming, dreaming of spring's arrival, dreaming of the thin poet wiping his tears on her last petal, telling her that although autumn has come, winter has come, and after that still comes spring, butterflies flutter wildly, bees all sing spring verses, she then smiles, although frozen red and miserable, she still shrinks back.'

2oo5 autumn night