“The rivers and lakes are dangerous, there is no other way.” Whenever I think of these words, a complex emotion will inevitably surge in my heart. The rivers and lakes have never been glamorous in the eyes of outsiders, but like the uncommon fragrance of plum blossoms, with a little sadness and loneliness, but it makes people feel the long-lost warmth in an instant. Everyone has an obsession with the rivers and lakes in their hearts. Whether it is for fame and profit, or for love and justice, they can’t escape the bond that has settled in the years.
I once saw a young man in gray clothes in a corner of the rivers and lakes. He had a cold face, eyes like knives, and walked with an indescribable momentum. He is a grassroots hero, born in a humble family, relying on a spirit of not admitting defeat, to make his way in the rivers and lakes. No one knows his name, but no one dares to underestimate him. Whenever someone mentions his name, they will say in a low and heavy voice: “He is a real river and lake man.”
That day, I met him by chance. He was sitting in a shabby teahouse, the lights were dim, and the wind and rain of the rivers and lakes seemed to be quietly swallowing up this peaceful world. His eyes fell on me, as if he was a little impatient, but seemed to be full of interest in me, a stranger. I smiled slightly, stepped forward politely and asked: “Hero, are you willing to drink a cup of tea with me?”
He did not refuse, but nodded slowly. I sat down with him, the fragrance of tea rose, and the air was filled with a faint fragrance. I didn’t know what to say, but my heart was full of questions: “What kind of hidden past does this handsome young man have? Why is he wandering alone in this world?”
“The world,” he suddenly spoke, his voice low and hoarse, “In this place, no one can always stand at the top. Everyone is desperately climbing, but there is always a higher mountain waiting for you, waiting for you to fall.”
His words suddenly made me understand. The world of rivers and lakes never belongs to one person. It is an endless cycle. No matter where you go, you will meet enemies stronger than you and face more difficult difficulties than you. And the most terrifying thing is perhaps this endless emptiness and loneliness.
I thought of the familiar friends around me. They may not be as handsome as the gray-clothed boy, but they each have their own persistence. Some pursue power, some seek peace, and some just for a persistence in their hearts. Everyone’s rivers and lakes are different, but it is equally difficult to escape.
Suddenly, there was a burst of hurried footsteps outside. I subconsciously raised my head, and the gray-clothed boy in front of me flashed a trace of alert in his eyes, and stood up quickly. The wind chimes outside the door jingled, as if foreshadowing some upcoming changes.
“There will always be wind and rain in the rivers and lakes.” He said to himself, then smiled coldly, turned around and disappeared into the night.
The teahouse was quiet, and I was left alone, sitting there. At that moment, I suddenly understood something. It turns out that in this world, there are no flowers and applause behind the heroes, only endless wind and rain and challenges. Those glorious years we thought of are often ruthlessly covered by time and history. And each of us, whether we like it or not, has to walk in this fog.
I once asked an old senior: “What kind of existence is the Jianghu?” He just smiled faintly and said: “The Jianghu is actually a dream. After waking up from the dream, I know that I am just a passerby.”
How many people have pursued fame and fortune in this dream, struggled in the vortex of power and desire, but in the end they all disappeared like a flash in the pan. Those glory that have been pursued, the goals that have been in mind, seem so insignificant in the end.
However, I still choose to believe that the Jianghu is not all empty. It may not have the glory we expect, but it has a kind of profound and lasting precipitation. Those people in the Jianghu, although they have been wandering all their lives, or perhaps lonely and helpless, have an unremitting belief in their hearts, that is their real Jianghu.
So, despite the dangers of the Jianghu and the ruthless years, I am still willing to go on. I don’t pursue to be the strongest swordsman, nor do I expect to be admired by the world. I just want to hold a pot of tea in this challenging world and quietly savor my own long dream of the world.
Because I understand that the real world may not be in the outside world, but in the deep heart of each of us, a beam of light that burns forever.