【Cold River Snow】(Part 1)

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Preface:
The cold river snow reflects a lonely farewell. This night, the cold wind is desolate, and there is no bright moon. Who can untangle the knot in my heart? I am lonely;
who can fill the emptiness in my heart? My heart is broken by the wind and snow you gave me. I miss you day and night, waiting for the season of reunion. The cold river snow finally reflects
the bright moon. I hear the wind and snow. Is there someone waiting for me to return outside the thatched gate? This night, who is waiting for whom to appear? The cold river snow pities the beautiful woman in the white house.
Spring blossoms are exchanged for silver butterflies. All this is because of your departure
. My past is like a tangled and chaotic dream, a dream with joy, pain, separation, and reunion.
I don't know how other lives unfold, how other destinies extend. I only know that my resentment, unwillingness,
restlessness, and unease have led to all the entanglements of the past years. It is my sin, my karma. It's not that I haven't
thought about dying, but if Shao Bai knew I was dead, would he follow me? Our blood is connected, our hearts
are connected, and our souls have long been intertwined through countless physical entanglements. I cannot die; if I die,
he cannot live on alone. Therefore, I can only choose to escape—escape his affection, escape my desires, escape the sins we have committed
over the years, sins despised by the world. So, let the ancient lamp and the clear moon accompany me, let
all the past grievances, joys, and sorrows, in this gentle chanting of Buddha's name, accompany my white-haired body until the end of
my life! Shaobai, your mother is praying for you from afar! !!
My hometown is a small town on the banks of a great river. The town is surrounded by water on all sides. Originally, it was
a submerged island carved out by the river over a long period. A natural long dike separated the river from the main stream. To resist floods, our ancestors
built a wide and thick dike around the island, leaving only an entrance on the north side to connect to Fangshan, creating a clear
lake—the Dihu Lake that gave me birth and nurtured me. According to the elders, in ancient times, a scholar who had passed the imperial examinations set out from his hometown to
serve the emperor, but later died in battle in the south. His wife waited at the town entrance every day, weeping until she died. Her endless longing
moved the Bodhisattva, who gathered her tears to form Dripping Lake.
Fortune tellers say that our place has good feng shui and will produce noble people.
Originally, I didn't believe this. My husband's ancestral family, the Chen family, was a
prominent family in the town, not only in the town but also throughout the country. However, this prominent family, throughout the Qing Dynasty,
was forbidden from holding official positions due to ancestral rules, so it produced mostly scholars. Scholars are prone to trouble, so for every literary giant this family produced during the Kangxi, Yongzheng, and Qianlong reigns
, just as many were exiled to Ningguta!
My husband, Chen Yanqiu, is a descendant of this family's branch in Northeast China. His ancestors
began their journey with the literary inquisition of the thirty-second year of Qianlong's reign. They were all enslaved by the Manchu bannermen in Ningguta until the early late Qing Dynasty, when he
finally escaped slavery by becoming a minor officer under Zhang the Bearded.
My husband was born in Shanghai, when his parents had already crossed the Yangtze River with the People's Liberation Army.
Five years after the liberation of Shanghai, my husband was born in an old Shikumen house assigned to his parents by the organization. As the son of a high-ranking political officer,
my husband's childhood was spent in material abundance that I envied, even resented. My mother-in-law liked coffee, which
also fostered my husband's fondness for it. What was coffee?! As a country bumpkin in those
days, I had never even heard of it, let alone drunk it. But who could have imagined that this originally scarce
commodity would eventually become my husband's killer!
My husband's fate should have been parallel lines to mine; we should never have intersected, even though the old town was his
ancestral home. So many generations had passed! I had never seen a single member of his family return! However, in
1970, on that evening when I was five years old—a day I still vividly remember—my husband, carrying a bag,
arrived alone in our town, emaciated and carrying a small porcelain jar, rowed by Chen Daya, the militia captain of the brigade. Many
years later, I learned that he had brought the ashes of his father, who had committed suicide after a falling out with his wife, back to the old town for burial
—his father's dying wish. Alas…
those were years we both found unbearable to recall. As a child, I didn't understand, but later, after researching, I learned how chaotic those ten years were for our country, 　　and how many people
suffered the same fate as my husband, Chen Yanqiu ! 　　At that time, I didn't understand my husband's thoughts and grief. The brigade secretary, Zhang, assigned him to Xiafang Village— 　　my hometown. My mother, Zhang Qiulan, was already the women's director of the commune's revolutionary committee, and my father 　　had become the principal of the commune's middle school. Because of my mother, my father didn't suffer the criticism and struggle sessions that his colleagues endured 　　. Also because of his mother, Yanqiu became a production accountant as soon as he arrived at Xiafang Village. In other words 　　, Yanqiu didn't actually suffer much in the village. 　　Those years passed peacefully, and although there were great upheavals outside, my husband Yanqiu 　　found solace in this small village nestled by mountains and water. This was originally his ancestral home!

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【Cold River Snow】(Part 1)

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