Ripple silent

The winter in Beijing a hundred years ago was extremely cold.The Tongzi River froze early.The snow on the roof will not even be turned into ice skates hanging from the eaves by the heat of the sun like in recent years, but will still lie there quietly, making people mistakenly think that the entire Forbidden City is white tiles and red walls.At dusk, the crows' calls are rare, but they are very loud. Standing on Jingshan Mountain, you can hear the birds singing in front of the Jinshui Bridge.

It seems that a little further north, or a little further south, is not like this.Anywhere is more lively than here.But in fact, this place is more lively than anywhere else.It's not the kind of bustle of 50 million people who are used to seeing the influx of people during the Golden Week.Instead, something invisible, dense, and invisible to the naked eye wandered around.Trapped within the high, gradually mottled red walls for hundreds of years, these invisible things would rustle and whisper, day and night, disturbing no one to sleep peacefully.Especially in the middle of the night, this kind of crooning gathered together like a magnetic field, mixed with the wind passing through the palace of Qionglou, it was as lively as the Kunning Palace where they had sex every night.

Some descendants who don't know the truth think that there are ghosts and ghosts in the Forbidden City. It is rumored that at night, you will be able to see women in white clothes carrying palace lanterns and walking without feet.They will also say that they have actually heard some ghosts talking-it sounds like someone is laughing or someone is crying.

However, even in such a cold northern winter where the water surface is frozen, these whispers will still dive into the bottom of the water, go all the way northward along the Jinshui River, cross a series of sluices and go all the way to Kunming Lake—sing to The Lafayette in the Summer Palace listens.But later, the River God who moats the Jinshui River listened to these low voices a lot, got tired of hearing them, and hurt his heart—even in the most refreshing Mid-Autumn Festival—he couldn’t stop listening. Just like in the early years, he hurriedly told the story inside to the sea god of Zhongnanhai, and the sea god of Zhongnanhai was naturally bored and told the empress of Beihai. , Houhai Xiangu herself sleeps lazily and tiredly until the next year when the east wind thaws - those whispers no longer ask for anything, and knowing that they can't ask for anything, they begin to gradually fall silent.

Since then, the water surface of the ancient capital Beijing has no more ripples.

What I want to tell is one of the many stories that were pushed and recited by the ripples back then, like laughter and crying.