Human dimension reduction

The year Xie Zhuo was born coincided with the heavy snowfall in the capital, and the huts outside the city collapsed one after another. The poor who died of cold and hunger curled up in the heavy snow into a shriveled circle, waiting for the corpse collector to throw them outside the city. mass graves.

The aristocrats in Qingxi are still living a life that is dull to them. Not only that, after the heavy snowfall, there are several more flower viewing parties and literary meetings in the city. The double petals raised by the Zhong family Lue has become the leader of this year's flower fair, and it has appeared in poems and essays countless times.

On a snowy night, Mrs. Xie family gave birth to Sanlang Jun of the Xie family. Xie Dalang wore snowflakes to announce the good news to his father. Xie Shangshu, who was not the chief assistant at the time, heard the news and walked for a long time in the warm pavilion burning with fragrant wood. His eyes fell on the potted plum plant that Zhong's family had sent on the window sill, and then flew far out of the window where the snow was falling.

There was an empty silence between the sky and the earth, the sky was snow-white and the ground was also snow-white, the mountains were winding and the courtyard was deep, and the servants and family members were all hiding in sheltered places, so Xie's house, which seemed lively in the past, suddenly fell into a long-term tranquility.

"Look at the first step of snow in front of the court, carved into a jade tree to keep the phoenix. Let's call it Xie Zhuo." Xie Shangshu picked up the pen, dipped it in thick ink, wrote the word "Zhuo" on the paper with a silver hook drawn on the iron, and turned the paper Fold it and hand it to your son, "Take it to your wife too."

Xie Dalang happily took the name his father had given to his son and left. Xie Shangshu sat behind the desk for a while and called his old servant: "Build a few more sheds outside the city. The firewood is not extinguished day and night, and it is said that a child is born in the family, and anyone who comes to say auspicious words will be given two steamed buns."

The old servant bowed his promise, bowed his head and walked into the boundless snowstorm.

From this day until the permafrost melted in spring, the voices of "Everything is going well, Mr. Xie Xiaolang" and "Safety and blessings, Mr. Xie Xiaolang" have never stopped. I sincerely wish the baby who gave them a chance to grow up safely and survive this difficult winter like them.

At the end of the autumn of the next year, Xie Zhuo was about to turn one year old, and he suddenly had a serious illness with a persistent high fever. Doctors came and went, saying that it was a malignant disease in children, and Mr. Xie Xiaolang probably wouldn't survive this winter.

The survival rate of children in this age is low, no matter how well-raised aristocratic families raise them, children often die young. Above Xie Zhuo, a brother and a sister died young, because they died young when they were unmarried, so they didn't even have a family tree.

Xie Zhuo was not even a year old, and was usually taken care of by a servant and wet nurse, so if he passed away at this moment, it would at most make the eldest lady sad for a while.

The immature child is still babbling, he is naturally intelligent, and vaguely understands that he seems to be dying, panting with difficulty, staring at the people coming and going by the bed, when Xie Shangshu went to see him, The drowsy child was wrapped in a thick quilt, dreaming dreams of unknown age.

It's not bad to walk like this. Xie Shangshu looked down at the little child and felt no sadness or joy in his heart. It was better than swallowing his last breath unwillingly after knowing the pain of life and death. Even walking on the bridge of Naihe was full of joy. Resentment.

He has not many children and grandchildren, but there are also many. Xie Zhuo is young, and he has not been with him for a few times, and his relationship is not very deep. Among the people who came and went to visit Xie Zhuo, from the beginning to the end, there were only Da Lang and his wife. The wet nurse who had taken care of Xie Zhuo for a year was truly mourning.

"My lord, it's snowing outside, and the earth dragon in the Nuan Pavilion is lighting a fire. Tonight, I still have to use a charcoal basin to make do with it." The old servant grew up with Xie Shangshu, and his conversation became less reserved. Xie Shangshu heard the words Startled for a moment, subconsciously looked up to the window.

The windows were tightly sealed, and the scenery outside could not be seen clearly. The inside of the house was as warm as spring, making people feel hot. It was completely impossible to imagine that it was already the season for snow to fall.

Xie Shangshu put his hands in his sleeves, looked at the child struggling to breathe on the bed, and suddenly said: "I seem to remember... last year when Sanlang was born, it was also in a snowy day."

The old servant couldn't figure out what he meant, so he followed the words and said: "Exactly, the Lord has a good memory. Last year, it snowed heavily, and many people died of freezing outside. For Mr. Sanlang's birth, there are more people in the mansion. We built several sheds to serve porridge."

"Oh... I remembered, there is such a thing." Xie Shangshu said softly.

"Has the disease doctor from the palace come? What should I say?"

The old servant paused, then lowered his voice: "Come here at noon, they say it's...not very good, it's been around for a few days."

Xie Shangshu fell silent again, and after an unknown period of time, he slowly said: "Outside the city...is it still difficult? Then it will be the same as last year, let's open a few more sheds."

He spoke slowly, as if considering: "Tell them to say a few more auspicious words, so that this child can walk more comfortably."

So this winter, thanks to the support of Xie's family, many fewer people died outside the city than in previous years, and the name of Mr. Xie's young man can be heard everywhere.

"May I thank Mr. Xiaolang for a long life."

"May Xie Xiaolang be healthy and safe."

"May I thank Mr. Xiaolang for good fortune and longevity."

The ancient capital resounded with his name, as if there was some kind of providence in the dark. After more than a month, Xie Zhuo struggled from this mortal illness and returned to the human world.

The Xie Mansion held a low-key banquet to celebrate this event, and then everything went on as usual, but the porridge shed outside the city has not been closed down. At the beginning, Xie Shangshu paid for it, and later the eldest lady also paid for it. Putting silver in it is regarded as accumulating virtue and doing good deeds, accumulating blessings.

But no matter how many people put in money, the people who received the porridge would still habitually recite Mr. Xie Xiaolang's name silently. They only remembered this name, and no one asked them to change it.

So the name rang from the winter of the eighth year of Taiping to the winter of the 12th year of Taiping. The Xie family gave birth to a young man again, and the title of "Xie Xiaolang" was still passed on unchanged.

Xie Zhuo was young and intelligent. After Xie Shangshu took the school exams a few times, he took him by his side to teach him. Occasionally, when he was free, he would talk about this dangerous serious illness. Xie Shangshu said with a smile: "Your life is The people in the capital shouted back one after another, they are all your reborn parents."

Xie Zhuo has a chubby bun face, his small body is straight like an adult's, his short legs can't reach the ground, and he hangs neatly by the side of the couch, he doesn't get angry when his grandfather teases him , replied sternly: "I was reborn because of the people of the world, and I will sacrifice my life to repay the kindness of the people."

Xie Shangshu laughed loudly when he heard the words: "Your ambition is high, I can't match it."

They both knew that this was just a joke, and neither of them took it to heart, but who knew that fate would go round and round, and they would return to this starting point.

In the spring of the 22nd year of Taiping, Mr. Xie Jiasanlang became famous all over the world because of his "Sanchun Fu", and became the most famous young man in the capital. In the following years, Yushu Zhilan became synonymous with Xie Zhuo. , will attract enthusiastic and lively little ladies to throw flowers to show their love, Xie's Wenhui is a gathering that all celebrities and talents are eager to join.

In the spring of the 24th year of Taiping, Xie Zhuo and Wang Fengzi met at the Spring Festival Banquet, and after that, Boya Ziqi, Qin and Xiao met each other.

In the autumn of the 26th year of Taiping, there was a severe drought, and the northern barbarians went south to plunder, crushing Daxia's dream of life and death, the border was in a hurry, and Dingzhou was defending.

In the winter of the 26th year of Taiping, the capital still lived in a soothing and prosperous dream. The blood and fire burning at the border could not disturb the wealth and gentleness here. This year, Xie Shangshu entered the cabinet as the chief assistant. It is still the most dazzling pearl on the sycamore tree in the capital.

In the spring of the 27th year of Taiping, the Northern Man was in a state of poverty. General Zhao Yang of Dingzhou led his troops in formation and did not surrender in a deadly battle; Block the Beiman's pursuit, fight to the death without surrendering, and be the head of the Northern Man's corpse slaying lord.

This year, Xie Zhuo's literary conference occasionally saw the prince. He behaved low-key, came and left in a hurry, as if he was always busy.

The Weishui River outside the city sometimes has boats covering the sky and covering the sun. The boats are full of food and grass to support the border. Xie Zhuo doesn't pay much attention to this. He holds Tingyu and drives along the Qingshiban road, followed by other aristocratic families The chariots and horses of Mr. Lang, they are drumming the zither and playing the sheng. Whenever the sound of Xie Zhuo's qin joins, the crowd will cheer and applaud. , the two are flying high like white cranes, accompanying the blue sky, attracting the passing young ladies to stop and look forward.

In the 29th year of Taiping, Beiman's iron hooves broke through the Tianguan Pass, and soldiers were on the banks of the Wei River. They were about to break through this crumbling line of defense. The family in the dream suddenly woke up. Enter the inner city with high walls.

The crown prince no longer came to Xie's house, he followed the emperor's personal expedition, crossed the Wei River, and raised the king's flag in front of the two armies.

In the 32nd year of Taiping, Zhao Wuque, the general of Dingzhou, guarded the city gate for several years. The food and grass gradually became scarce, and the land was poor. Everyone, Zhao Wuque offered the city and asked to surrender.

In the 36th year of Taiping, the war that lasted for nearly ten years ended. The emperor died in front of the battle, the prince died of illness, and the throne fell to the new emperor who was as transparent as a man. Smooth out the wrinkles of suffering.

The history books wiped away the blood and tears of the past ten years, and took out an empty hole in the book, in which millions of innocent souls lingered, mourning day and night.

Another year, Mr. Xie Jiasanlang entered Danqingtai.

The pen of history is like a knife, silently engraving all kinds of situations in the world. The news that Mr. Xie Sanlang wants to rebuild the history books and compile the ten-year battle quickly spreads all over the country.

"Why do you have to compile this history?" Xie Shoufu stood outside the closed door and asked the claustrophobic grandson inside.

"Why can't I edit this history?" The young man in the door asked quietly.

"I have been enlightened since I was a child. I read the letter of benevolence, righteousness, wisdom and propriety. Although thousands of people have gone to me, I look up to the world and have nothing to be ashamed of. Is it wrong to compile this history? Is it a bad thing? It does not belong to me. Duty? Why am I just doing what I'm supposed to be doing and it becomes wrong?"

These questions are so easy to answer, even if you ask young children to answer them, there is no need to think twice, but Xie Shoufu, who is full of intelligence, is silent in front of these questions, and after a long time, he sighs helplessly: "How can I teach you?" so naive."

Xie Zhuo laughed suddenly: "Father, I would rather die in such innocence."

"Since you have chosen your own path, let's go." Xie Shoufu stopped persuading him, and walked back under the frosty moonlight. As he walked, he suddenly thought, the frosty moonlight of this night, It's really like the night when Xie Zhuo was born many years ago, the snow is vast, the world is desolate and empty, people come and go, white-haired people send black-haired people, it's really impermanent.

The outspoken Xie Zhuo repeatedly wrote letters to tell the truth, which angered the emperor. With the help of many people with different ideas, Xie Zhuo was exiled to Mobei because of his remarks. Wang Fengzi tried to run for him, but he was restrained at home by Wang Shangshu .

In less than a month, the news of Xie Zhuo's death and exile came back to the capital. Xie's family sent people to collect the bones. Xie Shoufu, who had changed into plain clothes, sat in the study and suddenly realized that it was not that Xie Zhuo was too naive. I understand.

So he died generously, so he died in a foreign land.

His grandson, who moved the world before his death, was the best in the capital, but after his death, he was unknown and degraded to a foreign land.

In the history books, there will only be one line left for Xie Zhuo, attaching him to his biography, and appearing as "the grandson of Xie Yuan". His ambition, his life, his ideals, and his pursuit are all buried in the dust .

But Xie Zhuo is the best historian in the world, the best painting order, how can the volume of history on the Phoenix Terrace carry his name?

Xie Shoufu dipped his sleeves in the ink, spread out the white paper, and wrote a line of words on the paper.

It doesn't matter, Qingshi doesn't remember his name, so let him write the life of his grandson who died young with his old bones. The family history is a book, and it is always no one's turn to comment.