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The scorching summer heat has passed, and the cool breezes of mid-autumn have arrived. The mountains are ablaze with crimson gold, the foliage in full bloom.
After Mid-Autumn Festival, Beijing enters its days of red leaf viewing. By mid-October, the golden season has almost reached its peak. Beijing has a tradition of viewing red leaves, thanks to Fragrant Hills Park. The park's crimson leaves are its signature attraction. In the past, only Beijingers would visit Fragrant Hills in autumn, but now autumn tours departing from all over the country include it in their itineraries. People of all ethnic groups residing in Beijing also flock to Fragrant Hills in autumn, enjoying a day of cool autumn weather and enjoying their own rations and boiled water amidst the crimson leaves. In the past, strolling through Fragrant Hills to admire the red leaves meant swaying slowly along the narrow paths with legs spread apart. Now, you have to sprint from top to bottom. Otherwise, the red leaves everywhere would be picked and used as bookmarks. I wonder if anyone takes them home to make medicinal wine.
These days, there are so many tourists visiting Fragrant Hill to see the red leaves that the road there is packed with cars, stretching for more than ten miles. Standing on the Ghost-Seeing Crowd, I can't even see the back of the traffic jam at the foot of the mountain. I don't argue with them. I head out into the suburbs. There are mountains in the distance, too, and those mountains are sure to have red leaves too.
I climbed to the top of the mountain and looked down. Wow, the autumn scenery in the mountains is truly beautiful! Don't say you're leaving early.
Twisting my waist, I saw a village at the foot of the mountain, devoid of smoke from chimneys. From a distance, the village also looked like autumn.
"After walking two or three miles, there are small villages with four or five houses, six or seven pavilions, and eighty or ninety branches of flowers." I went down the mountain to check out the village. There's a seven-story pagoda in the village; it must have been donated by a great philanthropist, right? From afar, I gazed upon a wild temple, accompanied by mountain monks; the sounds of chimes and drums were inaudible, and smoke drifted. Looking back, I saw the wall I had just scaled on the top of the mountain. "The distant garrisons blazed with beacon fires, the mountains evoked lofty ideals. The banners and flags rolled up in the distance, and horses drank water as they passed the Great Wall."
When you reach the village entrance, you have to climb over a wall.
After climbing over this wall, you will encounter a river. It doesn't matter, there's a bridge in front of the city gate tower. As soon as you enter the village, the scenery is breathtakingly autumnal. Whenever autumn arrives, Li Qingzhao would recite the poem, "The sky and the autumnal light, turn around, my heart aches; exploring the golden petals, I know the Double Ninth Festival is near. Trying on a thin coat for the first time, tasting the green ants; gradually, a breeze, a rain, a chill." There's no old elm tree at the village entrance, so there's no place to hang the famous bell. Village meetings are held in a square like this one. The green trees are slightly yellow, and the small building is draped in red. Northern villages often have locust trees, and this is what they look like in autumn. Willow leaves flutter in the wind, and the locust blossoms are nowhere to be seen. The mountain steps gradually rise, and the gray tiles touch the treetops.
Villagers built their houses along the riverbank.
Deep in the mountains, winding water flows, and clothes and furs dry under low eaves on both sides. Red and yellow shine through the autumn wind, and colorful silk threads are woven into a brocade.
Look at the enclosed pediment of the small house. It is not decorated with hanging fish, but carved.
Look at its roof ridge. There are no ridge kisses at both ends, but it is tilted up. This is called "juansha" (rolling kill) and is more common in the south and less common in the north. Since there's a winding river, it must be good for boating. "The fragrance of red water pepper flowers lingers on both banks, while green spring water flows eastward. A small boat is a great way to enjoy the scenery." A wealthy family's mansion. High roof, high walls, high steps, red vines, red windows, red silk robes.
Although the village has a river, it still needs streets.
The empty street doors are half-open, and the signs are swaying. The wine is fragrant and the fish and meat are delicious, but no one pays attention.
Of course, there are shops on both sides of the street, selling some small things.
There should also be street lights.
Food is the most important thing for the people, and the villagers here also dry their food in front of their homes. There are also small alleys on both sides of the street, where people live who, as Su Dongpo said, "the people of Xizhan should be the happiest, cooking celery and bamboo shoots and serving spring rolls." There is even a church in the village. This small church is quite unique. Although it resembles a foreign church, it features a genuine Chinese bronze bell. There's also a washbasin outside the door, typically found in Muslim mosques. Some people were walking in; they didn't look like local villagers, but more like tourists like me. I followed them inside, eager to see what kind of bodhisattva was enshrined. However, there were no foreign Buddha statues, and the niches were empty. I'll come out and wash my hands. The water splashed through my hair, like black silk, washing away the dirt and mud.
Autumn here is the season of crimson leaves and rolling red vines, "Frost flies across thousands of miles, leaves fall from a thousand forests, their beauty in winter begets no envy in spring."
A vine under the eaves, stained red by frost. Unlike the delicate spring flowers, its light and shadow create a crimson city.
Yellow leaves shroud the deep alley, and red silk stretches beyond the wall.
Red leaves hang on the wall, and beautiful women stand at the foot of the wall. Don’t let the autumn scenery pass by in vain, don’t miss it if you don’t take pictures.
Wherever it climbs, it shows off its beauty, this vine is as beautiful as cockroaches.
The anger goes up to the sky for the beauty, and the red leaves smile.
Red Lane, with red clothes, grey tiles, wooden doors and stone stairs.
First, pluck the Shang string to play a red tune, then play the palace silk and sing a golden tune. The fair maiden knows for whom she smiles, her face vying for beauty with the yellow flowers.
In September, the maple leaves are as red as fire, and pedestrians on the road are all fixed on their gazes.
Green trees wear wrinkled clothes when encountering frost, and tall buildings are covered with red robes when they emerge from the ground.
Watching willows along the river? Going with the flow? No! The autumn colors can't be contained, the streets are covered with red leaves.
The autumn colors in the garden can't be contained, a red vine hangs down.
Red leaves flow under the eaves, a beautiful woman smells the fragrance.
A branch of red leaves sits on the threshold, but no one comes forward to push the door.
The wall is covered with vermilion road signs, a hermit hidden in the city.
When the wall turns a corner, you will reach Zhujiajiao.
After the autumn breeze, the mountain village is filled with red everywhere. What a huge tree, laden with golden leaves. No ginkgo nuts are visible on the branches, only a brilliant field.
As the sun sets, the crimson glow fades, and the tree shadows cast across the Xixi Bridge.
As the sun sets, the renovated Great Wall atop the mountain is illuminated by lights.
The battlements on the city wall were completely destroyed, and climbing the watchtowers at night was out of the question. People were standing on the distant walls, looking out. I wasn't among them; I was operating the camera.
From here, you can also see the small village covered in red leaves at the foot of the mountain. After gazing long enough, we'll continue down the path that leads up the mountain beside the city wall. Return to the village to witness the crimson night. See the gate of crimson leaves. "At dusk, the courtyard is desolate and dreary. When I sober up from the wine, I'm overcome by the sorrow of the past. How can I bear the endless night, the bright moon over an empty bed. I hear the pounding of anvils, the faint chirping of crickets, the long creek of a water clock." This is still a heartbreaking tune by Li Qingzhao.
Look at this door: a half-height fence gate outside the main entrance. Only in the south would this be found. Furthermore, this fence gate isn't outside the courtyard gate, but should be outside the main entrance facing the side street. Regardless, that's the meaning of this door.
Look at the window with red leaves.
The red curtains roll up at the idle window in the courtyard, the west wind playing with the shadows. A flickering candlelight, two window lattices conceal the traces of autumn.
The lights illuminate the pagoda, the pagoda shimmering with pearly light.
Street lights in the dark night. Year after year, dilapidated alleys, night after night, lonely lights. Beneath the streetlights, winding streams flow. Spring waters create a natural melody, and the flowing wine cups are indispensable. Beneath the streetlights, narrow alleys are also visible. The desolate path is narrow, and the flickering shadows of the lights are sad. To avoid sadness, there must be pedestrians in the alleys. Where are the people in the dark night? They walk under the lights of the alleys. When Song Dingbo of Nanyang was young, he encountered a ghost while walking at night. When he questioned it, the ghost replied, "I am a ghost." The ghost asked, "Who are you?" Dingbo lied and said, "I am also a ghost." The ghost asked, "Where are you going?" He replied, "I want to go to Wanshi." The ghost replied, "I also want to go to Wanshi." Then he set off.
Walk further into the alley and sit down to enjoy a bowl of noodles. Since there aren't waiters shouting outside, it's not a free lunch and you can eat with peace of mind.
At the end of the alley, there's a mountain stronghold gate. Across the river, I see the pavilion, aglow with golden light. There's an arch bridge over the river, with lights beneath it. There are no fishing lights on the water; the lights are powered by electricity. There's a fish lantern hanging on the door; it must be a seafood restaurant.
Sure enough, there were fish in the store.
After dark, the escort agency hung out a "foot massage" flag. No matter who came, they would kick it three times before anything else.
Villagegoers love to sing operas. What kind of opera does the little village of Red Leaf sing? Of course, it's "Chisang Town."
After the opera, the streets are empty.
"Falling leaves drift along the fragrant steps. The night is silent, and the sound of cold wind breaks. The pearl curtains roll up, the jade tower is empty, the sky is pale, and the Milky Way hangs low to the ground. Every year on this night, the moon shines like a silver thread, stretching a thousand miles across." Even the models in the store were so sleepy they kept their eyes shut. “Her delicate intestines were entangled and her eyes were sleepy, half open but half closed.” Go home and get some sleep!
The music ends, and the people return. After the autumn wind, the greenery fades. I admire the red and sigh at the frost with Du Kang. In my dream, dew turns to frost.
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