I first knew that there was "Peking University" in this world when I was seven years old. That day, I occasionally pulled out a yellowed photo from the drawer with a quiet and beautiful shadow of the lake tower. I stared at this deja vu scenery, and some inexplicable surprises, joys and touches quietly rose from my longing heart. My mother told me: this is Peking University. Ten years old, passing by the gate of Peking University by car. My aunt around me asked me to have a quick look, but I turned my head and muttered, "Now, isn't it' not fresh' to come to school in the future?"
I never doubted that I would become a student of Peking University. That childish self-confidence seems to indicate a wonderful fate. I just didn't expect to realize my childhood dream so soon; Moreover, in a blink of an eye, this is the third autumn when I came to Peking University.
Looking back suddenly, I seem to recognize myself two years ago: short hair, innocent eyes, not yet fourteen years old, a little girl with romantic ideas, full of interest and curiosity about everything. In the snow, I vaguely saw her wearing a blue down jacket, throwing a string of crisp laughter, like a snowball splashing around on the frozen lake. Now, the autumn wind has started again, and the branches and leaves are intertwined into a golden dome. Fallen leaves are everywhere, and it is soft to step on, as if the mood is very cold at this moment. Seeing the eighth and seventh grade freshmen walking around the school in the green uniforms brought by military training, they suddenly realized that they were "old students" in the third grade. Standing quietly on the friendly 35th floor like a friend, I can't help but feel a little lost. ...
Autumn is the season of maturity. It seems that I should say something to you, Peking University. Didn't I accompany you for two whole years? Isn't it that you have grown into a slim girl and are about to celebrate your sixteenth birthday? But the songs that I usually talk about are now silent. I look at you, a strange and familiar person, Peking University, and all the words accumulated in two years have quietly precipitated.
As soon as we entered the school gate, senior students took us to visit the library of Peking University. I seem to have seen a documentary about the library at that time. At the beginning of admission, that magnificent oath-"I am not only proud of Peking University, but also proud of Peking University"-suddenly looked pale and powerless against the background of the library building. I closed my mouth and felt almost desperate: four million books! It is hard to imagine. And what I have read is probably not even the minimum score of this number! Somehow, I recalled 1983 an incident that happened during my summer camp in Qingdao: I remember that all the lights were out at that time, and we were lying in bed in the dark, chatting casually. I was chatting with the leader's little girl teacher with relish, and the girl in my upper berth suddenly began to cry. We were surprised to ask her what happened, and she sobbed and replied, "You know so much, but I don't know anything …" Now, my conversation with the female teacher has long been forgotten, but the girl's sobs have remained in my heart for a long time. When I walked out of the library with the new classmates whose faces I can't remember clearly, I seemed to have just understood the girl who sobbed because of ignorance. ...
Since carefully wearing the white school badge, Peking University is no longer the image in photos, the buildings passing by the window, and the dreams cherished by the little girls, but an out-and-out reality that needs to be dealt with with with with all sober consciousness. If life can be divided into many stages, then meeting with Peking University is another new beginning.
That's right, it's the beginning-the beginning of a somewhat vague dream, the beginning of exploring the world that I have never set foot in. When I wandered among the rows of dusty bookshelves in the library, I felt like a girl in a fairy tale. I excitedly opened the shining door of the Fairy Palace. Sometimes, I am not in a hurry to check books and borrow books, but slowly walk up and down the narrow path left by piles of books, caressing each book with my eyes. Chinese and English are whispering and calling to me in different silent voices. Gradually, my mood became the same as theirs: calm, cheerful and serene.
In this way, simply and beautifully, Peking University opened a magical window for a little girl who longed to embrace eternity with limited life, and from this cool window, a ray of pure truth was transmitted. The universe and people began to reveal and present to me in a brand-new way, and I began to think, question, abandon and believe. Peking University showed me a touching new world. In this magical world, I am eager to live, to create, to have a pair of light wings, to get rid of the bondage of this heavy body and to fly freely in the boundless sky!
I like reading books from Peking University, and I prefer reading people from Peking University. Sometimes, I am particularly willing to stand quietly at the door of the library reading room and watch the readers' concentration and fascination at their desks; I would also like to listen to the loud quarrels of passers-by and walk to the third teaching building. What attracts me is often not the topic they argue about, but the unique sensitivity of Peking University people, the unique purity of students, the sharp wit of words and the vitality of mental state. I prefer to stand in front of the advertising column and read those colorful posters carefully one by one, in order to tirelessly relive the fresh and free atmosphere of Peking University.
Writing here, I can't help but spit out my tongue, because the portrait of the teacher of Peking University is also left in my sketch book: some gentlemen, some amiable, this quirk, that chic, or "lost in smoke" when talking and laughing, or formed another style in simplicity and dignity ... I like to be led to a refreshing and secluded place by these kind hands. Strict scholarship and sincere life, I realized the true meaning of the word "teacher" for the first time. I often think that Peking University is a river full of life, starting from its source 90 years ago and flowing to a promising future. Despite the changing scenery on both sides of the strait, there are always boatmen on the river eager to cross the beautiful other side, and there are also hardworking helmsmen and boatmen handed down from generation to generation.
Oh, Peking University, Peking University, you entrusted me too much, too much. So, when someone asks me what I have gained and lost during my two years in college, tell me how to use the word "gain and loss" to measure this particularly fulfilling time.
"Nothing can make me stay/except the purpose/even if there are roses, shade and quiet harbor on the shore/I am a small boat that is not tied."
Read these poems to you quietly more than once, Peking University. A thousand words can sometimes be condensed into the thickest lines. Yes, I am an independent ship. I once snuggled in the embrace of an unknown lake, but my heart yearned for the waves of the sea all the time. I haven't forgotten my oath. I am eager to discover the new continent, and I am eager to capture the brightest pearls for you and Peking University from the depths of the ocean.
However, what we have known and loved since we were seven years old will never be forgotten. "Let me bow my head and thank all the planets for their help", which made me spend the best time in my life on the campus of Peking University. It was at Peking University that I gradually matured from that carefree little girl. Peking University has long been more than just supporting my alma mater. It is a teacher, a friend, a part of me and a part of me. It is treasured in the softest corner of my heart, flowing in my blood, and can never be separated from the memories of silly and beautiful teenagers.
"Ah, maybe one day/the will is me, and the ship that is not tied is me/even without wisdom, ropes and sails."
Yes, one day, Peking University, I will leave you, too. You are always young, smiling, embracing the dreams of generation after generation of young people, inspiring the aspirations of generation after generation of students, and soothing the melancholy of blooming peaches and plums year after year. Then, I will come back to you. What does it matter if the dream is true or not? As long as I stand on the thirty-fifth floor like an old friend for a moment, I believe that all the lost years will blossom and bear fruit again, and all my dreams will reappear. I will lean on your chest like a 16-year-old girl, regardless of the white hair on my head. ...
1987 10 Yu yanyuan