用英语讲中国故事大学组推荐篇目（6篇）

大学组—推荐文章6篇

（选自《用英语讲中国故事》）

推荐篇目选段6段（6篇全文附在选段后）：

篇目1：梅 梅妻鹤子

林逋从小家境贫寒，但他发奋努力，用功读书，成了一个很有学问的人。他先是游历了大江南北，后来又到杭州西湖隐居，就是不肯出来做官。他讨厌做官之后 的种种束缚，向往自由自在的隐居生活。

林逋是个淡泊名利、不慕虚荣的人，他擅长写诗和做文章，却从来不肯把诗文留下来。他总是即兴写完就马上把手稿撕毁。有人问他：“你为什么不把诗稿和文稿留下来传给后世呢？”他说：“我现在都在山林深谷中隐居，不想成名，何必要惦 记着后世名扬天下呢？”

非常能体现林逋与众不同的是他“梅妻鹤子”的传奇经历。“梅妻鹤子”就是以梅为妻、以鹤为子。林逋喜欢游历名山大川，在游览过程中，如果遇到上好的梅花品种就一定重金购买下来，种在庭院观赏。

Born into a poor family, Lin Bu studied diligently and grew up to be a learned scholar. He had traveled extensively across China before retreating to a secluded life somewhere along the West Lake of Hangzhou. He hated the constraints of an official post and longed for the carefree life of a hermit.

Lin Bu was immune to vanity and indifferent to fame and fortune. He was a good poet and writer but never kept any of his writings, tearing them up right after penning them.

“Why won’t you keep them for later generations?” people asked.

“I’m a forest hermit,” he said. “If I seek no praise now, why should posthumous fame matter to me?”

The most extraordinary thing about Lin Bu was his Plum Blossom Wife and Crane Son, meaning that he had a plum blossom for his wife and a crane for his son. On his journeys to famous mountains and rivers, he bought every superb variety of plum blossom that he could find, regardless of the cost, and planted them around his courtyard for his own enjoyment.

篇目2：中秋 后羿射日与嫦娥奔月

后羿的事迹远近闻名，于是也有许多仰慕他武艺的人想拜他为师，学习技艺。 其中有一位徒弟叫逄（pánɡ）蒙，无意中得知了仙药的事情，便产生了贪念，希 望得到嫦娥手中的仙药。于是，有一日趁后羿不在家中，逄蒙带人闯进后羿家中， 逼迫嫦娥交出仙药。嫦娥无奈，只好带逄蒙去找。刚找到仙药的那瞬间，为了不让逄蒙这样的坏人长生不老，嫦娥只好自己吞下仙药。一刹那，嫦娥感觉自己的身体 非常轻盈，双脚离开了地面，慢慢向天上飞去。因为舍不得后羿，嫦娥停在了离地近的月亮上。

后羿回到家中，到处都不见妻子的踪影，只看见天上的月亮当中，嫦娥靠在一棵桂花树旁边，深情地凝望着自己。他大声呼唤妻子的名字，也想飞到月亮上 的广寒宫，却发现自己无论如何也到不了。后羿非常伤心，悲痛难耐，只好在家 里摆上嫦娥平日喜欢的食物，反复祭拜月亮，希望上天开恩，让自己能够见到妻子。

The exploits of Houyi spread widely, attracting many to learn martial arts from him, among whom was Pang Meng, a greedy man. By chance, he learned about the elixir and made a plan to steal it. One day while Houyi was away from home, Pang Meng and his gang broke into their house, insisting that Chang’e hand over the elixir. Cornered, Chang’e had no other choice but take them to it. Fearing that the elixir would fall into the wrong hands, Chang’e swallowed it herself. No sooner had she done so, she felt her feet rise from the ground and carry her slowly upward into the sky. She could not bear the thought of parting from her husband. So she finally managed to make her home on the moon, which was the closest celestial body to the earth.

Houyi returned home, only to find his wife missing. Looking up at the moon, he saw Chang’e leaning against a laurel tree, staring at him lovingly. Houyi called out to his wife, his voice vainly attempting to reach the Guanghan Palace, where she lived. Broken-hearted, Houyi could do nothing but put out Chang’e’s favorite food as a sacrifice, and keep praying to the moon, in the hope that fate could somehow bring his wife back to him again.

篇目3：樊锦诗 "敦煌女儿"

虽然敦煌艺术是人类瑰宝，被世人欣赏，但是络绎不绝的游客，在观赏艺术的同时，也使洞藏艺术受到破坏。要知道，多一束光线、多一度气温、多一分湿度，都可能给壁画带来不可逆转的伤害。但她又不忍让敦煌艺术永远藏在关闭的大门后。她意识到，旧的保护方法行不通。

    2014年，数字敦煌艺术展厅正式在敦煌竣工。走入展厅，高清的莫高窟佛像，飞天壁画便映入眼帘，相比昏暗的洞窟，色泽鲜亮的投影图画、恰到好处的光线、布满穹顶的展示空间，都让人的胸襟豁然开朗。2016年，数字敦煌正式上线，从此，世界各地的人都可以在互联网上欣赏莫高窟 30个经典洞窟和 4.5万平方米的壁画。这一年，樊锦诗已经 79岁了，但她还在努力，努力让莫高窟只剩空白的那天，永远不会来到。

敦煌莫高窟及洞藏艺术，在她的努力下，又逐步恢复了曾经锦绣如诗、繁盛如阳的状貌。

Although the art of Dunhuang is a treasure for all mankind and deserves to be appreciated by the whole world, the endless stream of visitors, while making Dunhuang better known, are unwittingly also helping to destroy it. Every extra ray of light, every extra degree of temperature, every extra degree of humidity has the potential to cause irreversible damage to the wall paintings. Nevertheless, Fan Jinshi was determined that the art of Dunhuang would not be sealed and locked away forever. She came to realise that the old methods of preservation were no longer valid.

  In 2014 the Mogao Grottoes Digital Exhibition Center was officially completed at Dunhuang. On entering the Exhibition Hall, the first thing that can be seen is a high-definition picture of one of the statues of the Buddha from the Mogao Grottoes, and the images of flying apsaras from frescoes. In contrast to the gloomy grottoes, the colors and luster of the projected images were fresh and bright, the light showing them to the best advantage. Gathered in the arched vault where the images are projected, visitors can get a much deeper appreciation for the spirituality and awe-inspiring beauty of the frescoes. In 2016, the digital exhibition center formally went online, and thenceforth people all over the world could appreciate 30 of the classical grottoes of Dunhuang and their 45,000 square meters of wall paintings via the Internet. In that year, Fan was 79 years old, but she was still working, striving to ensure that the day when there would be nothing left of the Mogao Grottoes would never come.

With Fan’s efforts, the Mogao Grottoes and their cave art have gradually regained their images of poetic splendor and radiant brilliance.

篇目4：移动支付 新潮菜市场

“不懂了吧，这叫二维码。”这会儿没有客人，老李一脸得意地冲着对面卖猪肉的炫耀。后者哼笑了一声，表示听不懂，也不关心。 不过老李摊前的景象确实新奇，频频引得旁人侧头去看：老头、老太太们大多还是照旧掏出纸币，他收下放在脚边的纸箱里，又从里面挑出零钱来找给顾客。上班的年轻男女来买菜，总是在他报出菜价之后便掏出手机，说一句“微信”或是“支付宝”，把手机对着那一绿一蓝的小纸片照一下。别人只听见“嘀”的一声，手机一响，顾客就走了。全程老李动也没动，却听见他手机上传出声音：“已到账，五元七角。”

老李正低头点着箱子里的零钱，忽然听见对面一连串的道歉。他抬头看去，只见卖猪肉的案板上放着刚剁好的排骨，神情有点尴尬，旁边站着一个人不住地道歉。原来是那人出门太急居然忘带钱包，排骨都已经切好了才发现自己付不了钱， 回家取钱又麻烦，就想说不要了。

“这个好办，你用微信转账行不行？”买肉人忙不迭地点头说“可以”。老李伸手向卖猪肉的要手机，见他犹豫，又补了一句：“肉钱不要了？放心不坑你。”

只见老李在手机屏幕上点开微信，不知又按了哪里，屏幕上跳出一个和他摊位挂着的类似的小方块，凑近了看，小黑点的组合又不太一样。“来，扫这儿。”

“You don’t know what these are? They’re called QR codes.” Old Li, having no customers for the moment, calls across to a pork vendor, with a smile of smug satisfaction. The other snorts, indicating that he neither understands nor cares.   

The new scene before Old Li’s stall attracted passers-by to gaze at this novelty. Most of the old people pulled out paper notes, as they always had, and Old Li dipped into a cardboard box at his feet to get their change. But young people buying vegetables on their way to work would produce their mobile phones after finding out the price from Old Li. Saying only “WeChat” or “Alipay,” they would scan one of Old Li’s cards, either green or blue. With only a “click” of their phone cameras, the customers leave. Throughout the whole process, Old Li hasn’t had to move a muscle; his mobile phone simply calls out “5 yuan and 70cents has gone into your account!”  

Old Li had just ducked his head to get change from his box, when he suddenly heard profuse apologies coming from across the way. Raising his head, he saw that there were freshly chopped ribs on the table of the pork butcher, and nearby was a man looking embarrassed and full of apologies. It turned out that he had left home in a hurry and forgotten his wallet. The ribs had already been chopped up, when he discovered that he couldn’t pay for them. It was too much trouble to go back home for his wallet, so he had to do without the ribs.   

“This is easily solved,” said Old Li to the potential customer. “You’ve got a WeChat account, haven’t you?” The other nodded emphatically and said “yes,” Old Li then stretched out his hand for the butcher’s mobile phone. Seeing the latter hesitate, Old Li reassured him: “Don’t you want to be paid for the meat? Don’t worry. I won’t cheat you.”   

Old Li calls up WeChat onto the screen of his mobile phone, and from somewhere there appears a small square like those hanging outside his booth. On closer inspection, you could see that the black dots were not arranged in exactly the same way.   

“Here,” Old Li says to the customer, “Swipe this.”   

Beaming, the customer swipes his own mobile phone against the small square on the other phone.

篇目5：绘画 《富春山居图》的悲欢离合

黄公望沉浸在富春江秀丽的自然景色之中，时常戴着竹笠，穿着芒鞋，一副当地山民的打扮独自出门。沿江而上，他观察烟云变幻之奇，遇到好景就随时画下来，日复一日。有时为了一幅画面，他呆呆地坐在石头上，一坐就是一日，下雨也毫不知觉。黄公望踏遍了富春江两岸，背着画卷一路前行。渔舟唱晚，山林寂静，都变成了他人生的注脚。

有一日，黄公望委托村民到城里卖画以换取生活费，没想到村民回来时身后的人一个箭步跑过去，紧紧抱住黄公望 ——原来那便是云游四方的无用师弟。人到暮年，与故友久别重逢，那是怎样的感慨与感动？不久后，《富春山居图》大作完成，黄公望喟然长叹，将毕生心血之作郑重赠予无用，几年后与世长辞。

Huang Gongwang, completely absorbed in the natural scenery, would often head out by himself, dressed like a local villager in a bamboo hat and a pair of straw sandals. On his way upstream, he would observe the ever-changing forms of the clouds and mist, and stop in his tracks to draw the mesmerizing scenes. At times, he would sit perched on a rock for an entire day just to get a painting right, oblivious of the rain. Days passed as his feet carried him everywhere along the Fuchun River, a palette his only companion. The fisher­men returning with songs at dusk, and the forests immersed in tranquility –all were a part of his artistic life and vision.

One day, Huang Gongwang asked a villager to sell some of his paintings in the town for money. The villager returned with someone else, who, the minute he laid eyes on Huang, raced to him and hugged him. It was his long-separated friend Wu Yong. What an emotional moment, meeting a dear old friend again after so many years and at such an old age! Before long, Huang finally completed this masterpiece, his lifetime’s work. With a long sigh, he bequeathed it to Wu Yong, and died a few years later.

篇目6：中国梦 扎根乡土的中国梦

作为一名教育工作者，她想让来自农村的孩子们都热爱家乡。乡土，是孩子成长的摇篮，是长大后不论身居何处都挂念的地方。要让孩子们传承乡土丰富的文化资源，要让孩子们学习自己民族的历史、风俗人情。

从此，王小平开始了自己的行走之路，只因心中梦想不变，只愿 “每一个村落都是丰富的、美丽的”。

刚开始编写乡土系列教材时，王小平遇到很多困难。她需要到一个完全陌生的地方用一己之力说服当地的教育局与自己合作。很多人问她：“这样不挣钱的事情为什么还要做？”王小平只是一笑。她知道别人很难理解她对梦想的坚持，但她心中有梦，脚步就不会停。这也许就是她能够打动当地教育局负责人的原因。

还有人问她为什么要做这件事。她动情地说：“一提到中国，大家都想到长江、黄河、长城这样的事物。我们有的孩子一辈子都见不到这些事物，但只要他热爱自己家乡的山和水，能够了解它们的历史文化并传承下来，就能把这转化为自己未来的发展资源，更好地建设家乡。”

As an educator, Wang Xiaoping had long asked herself, “Is there a way to remedy this - to restore these kids’ confidence and help them forge their own competitiveness?” Her solution was to awaken the children’s love and nostalgia for the rich culture and heritage of their native homes and lands in which they began life, regardless of where they moved later. Children must learn to treasure their own histories and folk customs.

Thus, Wang Xiaoping began her journey to pursue her dream that “every village should­ be beautiful in its own unique way.”

From the outset, Wang had plenty of setbacks, having to barge into completely strange places and persuade local educational authorities to collaborate with her. When asked why she would undertake such thankless work, she just smiled, knowing very well that it wasn’t easy to understand. With only her dream as her guide, she traveled far and wide. Her persistence eventually paid off, and local education authorities lent a hand.

Once, when someone asked her why she had embarked on this adventure, she was filled with emotion and explained, “When we talk about China, what do people immediately think of? The Yangtze River? The Yellow River? Or maybe the Great Wall? Well, there are children in this country who may never in their life see these! But they have their own Yellow River and Great Wall – the mountains and rivers in their native places. If they are in touch with their unique history and culture, they are likely to turn it into their own unique strength, and make their own contribution to the places they love.”

全文6篇：

中国风物

梅

梅妻鹤子

你听说过有人一辈子不娶妻、不生子，却把梅花当作妻子、把仙鹤当作儿子这样的事吗？宋代知名隐士林逋（bū）就有这样一段传奇故事。

林逋从小家境贫寒，但他发奋努力，用功读书，成了一个很有学问的人。他先是游历了大江南北，后来又到杭州西湖隐居，就是不肯出来做官。他讨厌做官之后 的种种束缚，向往自由自在的隐居生活。

林逋是个淡泊名利、不慕虚荣的人，他擅长写诗和做文章，却从来不肯把诗文留下来。他总是即兴写完就马上把手稿撕毁。有人问他：“你为什么不把诗稿和文稿留下来传给后世呢？”他说：“我现在都在山林深谷中隐居，不想成名，何必要惦 记着后世名扬天下呢？”

非常能体现林逋与众不同的是他“梅妻鹤子”的传奇经历。“梅妻鹤子”就是以梅为妻、以鹤为子。林逋喜欢游历名山大川，在游览过程中，如果遇到上好的梅花品种就一定重金购买下来，种在庭院观赏。日积月累，栽种的梅花越来越多。相传，在林逋庭院有 300 株梅花可供人观赏。林逋还很喜欢赏鹤，在家中养了一只， 主人不在的时候，家里的童子就把仙鹤放出来寻找林逋。林逋看到仙鹤就知道有客人来，该回家了。

林逋对梅花和仙鹤的痴迷有时也让友人不解。友人问他：“众花之中你为什么 偏爱梅花？”林逋回答道：“梅花向来受文人雅士的偏爱 。因为梅花临寒独开，不畏 风欺雪压，所以文人大多认为梅花有铮铮傲骨。爱梅花也是爱梅花的品格，这样 的花中君子也是隐士的非常喜爱的。”又有人问他：“梅花分白梅和红梅两种，你更爱哪一种？”林逋答道：“两种梅花在我心中各有特色。白梅如雪如霜的高贵形象和冰清玉 洁的体态让人感受到纯净之美。若开在冬季就与白雪融为一体，而香气扑鼻又与白雪不同。所以人说白梅‘遥知不是雪，为有暗香来。’红梅有红艳的体态，与白雪 相对比，更红得娇艳，红得动人。白雪之中红梅独开，在一片茫茫的气氛中显现出 勃勃的生机与活力。”

林逋去世后，后人为了纪念他，在山坡上造了一座亭子，叫“放鹤亭”。每当冬天快要过去，春天快要到来的时候，人们登上“放鹤亭”远望，就会看到梅花开 放的盛况。梅花的体态、梅花的气质、梅花的精神都可以在“放鹤亭”上一览无余。

这天，两个文人来到“放鹤亭”赏梅。其中一人说：“有些人明明可以做官， 在官场上呼风唤雨、大显身手，结果却隐居到深山老林里做了隐士，难道不可惜 吗？”另一个人却说：“每个人追求的东西是不一样的。在官场的人追求的是名和利，隐居的人反而追求逃离名和利。”“拥有名利难道不好吗？为什么要逃离呢？”“名利固然是人人渴望的，但是得到名利的过程也是痛苦的，牵扯到各种利益争夺，往往 到后面，就会把人性中丑恶的一面暴露出来！”“所以隐士就要逃离这一切，像梅 花一样不与其他众花争春，在寒冬默默开放，显示出高洁的品质！”这番讨论过后， 两人又在“放鹤亭”伫立了许久。

故事要旨

梅花因为不与其他众花争春、临寒独开的高洁品格深受中国文人喜爱。这种坚强、独立的精神气质是许多隐士推崇的。不慕名利、崇尚自然是中国人共同的审美 追求，长期积淀在中华文化中。

The Plum Blossom

Wife and Son of a Recluse

This is the story of a single man, who loved his plum blossoms like a wife and his crane as a son. It is the legendary tale of a Song Dynasty (960-1279) hermit, Lin Bu ( 林逋 ).

Born into a poor family, Lin Bu was very diligent in studying and grew up to be a learned scholar. He had traveled extensively across China before retreating to a secluded life somewhere along the West Lake of Hangzhou. He hated the constraints of an official post and longed for the carefree life of a hermit.

Indifferent to fame and fortune, Lin Bu was immune to vanity. He was a good poet and writer but never kept any of his writings, tearing them up right after penning them.

“Why won’t you keep them for later generations?” people asked.

“I’m a forest hermit,” he said. “If I seek no praise now, why should posthumous fame matter to me?”

The most extraordinary thing about Lin Bu was his Plum Blossom Wife and Crane Son, meaning that he had a plum blossom for his wife and a crane for his son. On his journeys to famous mountains and rivers, he bought every superb variety of plum blossom that he found, heedless of cost, and planted them around his courtyard for his own enjoyment. Over time, he planted more and more plum trees, the number of which was reported to be up to 300 or so. He also raised a crane as a hobby. When visitors came while he was out, the boy servant would let the crane free signaling to Lin Bu it was time to return home to entertain guests.

His fascination with plum blossoms and cranes bewildered his friends. “Why plum blossoms, of all flowers?” they’d ask.

“Because they are always the favorite of well-cultivated intellectuals and literati,” he replied. “Plum blossoms are considered proudly defiant, for they alone flourish during the coldest of days, unyielding to the chilly gusts or the falling snow. It is the character of these ‘Gentlemen of the Flowers’ that attracts learned gentlemen, as well as hermits like myself.”

When pressed, “Do you prefer the white blossoms or the red?” he answered, “Each has its own distinct place in my heart. White ones, dignified and pure, evoke an image of quiet and untainted beauty. In winter, they vanish into the snow, yet are still recognizable by their pervading fragrance. Hence the lines, ‘It must not be the snow I see/For a quiet aroma fills the air.’ As for red blossoms, they are more delicate and enchanting by comparison. Blooming in the snow, they bring a dynamic vitality into the white vastness.”

After Lin Bu died, the Flying Crane Pavilion was built in his memory. People would come here at the turn from winter to spring and admire the hundreds of plum trees in full bloom, appreciating to their hearts’ content the form and temperament of Lin Bu’s beloved “wife.”

One day, as two scholars visited the pavilion for the plum blossoms, one proposed a topic for discussion, “Isn’t it a shame that those with means and competence to obtain and justify their official ranks settle for a hermit’s life in the depths of the mountains?”

“We all want different things,” the other said. “Those in government service pursue fame and fortune, while those in seclusion avoid them.”

“What’s so bad about fame and fortune that they have to escape it?”

“It’s true that all people wish for fame and fortune, but they must suffer a great deal to obtain them, often finding themselves taking sides in partisan wars. The darkest side of human nature is almost always revealed in these scrambles for fame and fortune.”

“That’s why a hermit would flee from all worldly cares, maintaining his noble character, just as the solitary plum blossoms quietly flower in the depths of winter!” Their discussion ended, but the two lingered in the pavilion for a long time.

The Moral of This Story

Plum blossoms are deeply appreciated by Chinese literati for their retreat from contending with other flowers and their quiet defiance alone in the cold winter. They adore the dignity and independence that the flowers represent. It is a common aesthetic pursuit of the Chinese people to eschew fame and fortune in order to seek oneness with Nature. This deep-seated idea has been deeply imprinted on our national psychology.

中国习俗

中秋

后羿射日与嫦娥奔月

中秋节是中国除春节外非常重要的节日。它之所以重要，是因为这天是期盼家人团圆的日子。家家户户都会赏月、吃月饼，以前还会拜月、祭月。这些风俗都体现了人们希望家人团圆美满的心愿。

那中秋节是怎么来的呢？它的这些风俗又是如何形成的呢？我们一起听听嫦娥 奔月的故事吧。

你知道嫦娥吗？她是远古时的神射手后羿的妻子。

这个后羿可了不得呢。

传说在远古，天上出现 10 个太阳，难耐的高温炙烤大地，导致庄稼烧成焦土， 土地寸草不生，严重影响了人们的生产生活。这时候出现一位英雄，名叫后羿。他 力大无比，非常英勇，决意帮百姓解决眼下的困难，于是登上昆仑山顶，拉开神 弓，向天上射出九支神箭，射落了九个太阳，只留下一个太阳给人们带来温暖，让 谷物得以丰收。后羿干了一件为民造福的大好事，受到了人们空前的敬重和爱戴， 也得到了神仙的赞许与赏赐。后羿射下九个太阳后，西王母赐其不老仙药，但后羿 不舍得吃下，也不愿意离开他美丽的妻子嫦娥，便交于嫦娥保管。据说这种药功效 神奇，服用后不仅能够长生不老，还可以升天成仙。

后羿的事迹远近闻名，于是也有许多仰慕他武艺的人想拜他为师，学习技艺。 其中有一位徒弟叫逄（pánɡ）蒙，无意中得知了仙药的事情，便产生了贪念，希 望得到嫦娥手中的仙药。于是，有一日趁后羿不在家中，逄蒙带人闯进后羿家中， 逼迫嫦娥交出仙药。嫦娥无奈，只好带逄蒙去找。刚找到仙药的那瞬间，为了不让逄蒙这样的坏人长生不老，嫦娥只好自己吞下仙药。一刹那，嫦娥感觉自己的身体 非常轻盈，双脚离开了地面，慢慢向天上飞去。因为舍不得后羿，嫦娥停在了离地近的月亮上。

后羿回到家中，到处都不见妻子的踪影，只看见天上的月亮当中，嫦娥靠在一棵桂花树旁边，深情地凝望着自己。他大声呼唤妻子的名字，也想飞到月亮上 的广寒宫，却发现自己无论如何也到不了。后羿非常伤心，悲痛难耐，只好在家 里摆上嫦娥平日喜欢的食物，反复祭拜月亮，希望上天开恩，让自己能够见到 妻子。

后来， 王母被后羿的诚恳打动， 准许每年金秋八月月圆之日即农历八月 十五，二人在桂花树下相见团圆。这每年一次的特殊会面伴随着后羿嫦娥的爱情故事被人们铭记，成了每年家人团聚的佳节。

中秋节的由来同月亮有诸多关联，中秋节的习俗自然和月亮也有不可分割的联 系。祭月与拜月的仪式留传下来，形成了中秋赏月的传统。人们面对天空中皎洁的 月色常常诗兴大发，其中非常有名的当属苏轼的《水调歌头》。那句“但愿人长久， 千里共婵娟”一直被人传诵着。而后来，后羿在家里摆上嫦娥爱吃的食物的举动， 衍生出另一个重要习俗便是吃月饼。月饼形似圆月，是古时祭月摆放的供品。 味道可口，象征团圆和睦，受到各地人们的喜爱。

此外，生活在其他地区的人们在这个特殊的节日也会有当地特有的风俗习惯。 生活在江浙一带的百姓有中秋观潮的传统，而大部分中国南方地区的人们则会赏桂 花，饮桂花酒，有的地方还有燃灯和猜灯谜的习俗。

故事要旨

月寄相思，期盼团圆，是中国人的传统文化心理。中秋风俗正是这种文化心理 的集中体现。中秋赏月之时，大家团圆相伴，望月思亲，家庭更加美满，民心更加凝聚。

The Mid-Autumn Festival

Story of the Archer and His Wife on the Moon

The Mid-Autumn Festival is one of the most important festivals for the Chinese people, second only to the Spring Festival. It is celebrated especially for family reunions, when members gather and appreciate the full moon and eat mooncakes, and in a more traditional manner, worship and pray to the moon. These activities embody sincere wishes for the general well-being and wholeness of the family.

One of the ancient stories about the origin of the festival and its customs is related to the mythical figure Chang’e (嫦娥), who flew to the moon.

Chang’e was the wife of Houyi ( 后羿 ), a heroic archer in ancient China. Now, this Houyi was quite a remarkable character.

As the legend goes, in prehistoric times, ten suns used to rise in the sky, causing disasters on earth with their unbearable heat. With crops burned to ashes and lands barren, people’s lives were threatened. This was when Houyi, a hero with herculean strength and invincible valor, came along. Houyi resolved to rescue the people from their misery. He climbed to the top of Mount Kunlun, drew his mighty bow and shot down nine suns, leaving only one for the warmth needed. This meritorious deed received unprecedented respect and admiration, at the same time earning him admiration from the immortals. The Queen Mother of the West awarded him the Elixir of Immortality. Houyi, seeing how precious it was and unwilling to eat it and leave his beautiful wife behind, left it in Chang’e’s keeping.

The exploits of Houyi spread widely, attracting many to learn martial arts from him, among whom was Pang Meng, a greedy man. He by accident learned about the elixir and conceived a plan to steal it. One day while Houyi was away from home, Pang Meng and his gang broke into their house, insisting that Chang’e hand over the elixir. Cornered, Chang’e had no other choice but take them to it. Fearing that the elixir would fall into the wrong hands, Chang’e swallowed it herself. Then she felt her feet instantly rise from the ground and carry her slowly upward into the sky. Missing her husband, she finally managed to make her home on the moon, which was the closest celestial body to the earth.

Houyi returned home, only to find his wife missing. Looking up at the moon, he saw Chang’e leaning against a laurel tree, staring at him lovingly. Houyi called out to his wife, his voice vainly attempting to reach the Guanghan Palace, where she lived. Broken-hearted, Houyi could do nothing but put out Chang’e’s favorite food as a sacrifice, and keep praying to the moon, in the hope that fate could somehow bring his wife back to him again.

Moved by Houyi’s genuine fidelity, the Queen Mother of the West eventually allowed them to meet once a year under the laurel tree on August 15th by the Chinese lunar calendar, when the moon is at its fullest. The loving couple’s annual meeting since then has been observed as a festival – Mid-Autumn Festival – for family reunions.

The festival’s origin is closely associated with the moon, as is the case of its customs. To this day, moon worshiping, together with praying to the moon, is still the most symbolic ritual. The bright and clear moon hanging in the sky has often been the source of poetic inspiration, the most famous such poem being “Prelude to Water Melody” by Su Shi. Very few Chinese are not familiar with the lines:

“Long be we linked with light of the fair moon/

Over large league of distance, thou and I.”

Another important custom, which arose from Houyi’s displaying of Chang’e’s favorite food, is eating mooncakes. Richly-flavored and symbolically round like the full moon, they are the oldest and most popular tribute to the moon.

Different regions have their own unique customs on that day. For example, tide-watching is popular in Jiangsu and Zhejiang provinces, while most southerners appreciate drinking wine fermented with sweet-scented osmanthus. There are also activities such as lantern parades, lantern riddles, etc.

The Moral of This Story

The moon evokes in the Chinese people the memory of their loved ones and their yearning for reunion, which speaks of their traditional cultural psychology. The celebration of the Mid-Autumn Festival is the exact reflection of that psychology. When families come together under the full moon, thinking fondly of those living afar, they grow closer in their hearts, and the family bond grows tighter.

中国人物

樊锦诗

“敦煌女儿”

樊锦诗，扎根敦煌50余载。她被人们誉为“敦煌女儿”。

1963年，怀揣无限畅想，从北京大学毕业的樊锦诗被分配到了敦煌文物研究所，开启了她的敦煌岁月。

“敦，大也；煌，盛也。”敦煌是古代丝绸之路上的重镇，莫高窟洞藏艺术是世界非物质文化遗产。樊锦诗来到敦煌，为的是让敦煌艺术跨越千年的瑰丽永现世间。

但是生活并没有这样充满情怀。

当时的敦煌，没有通电，也没有自来水，樊锦诗和同事都挤住在土房子里。床板冷硬，夜晚风声凄厉。一日，樊锦诗听到屋顶有嘎吱嘎吱的声音。“大约是风大把什么东西吹到房顶了吧？”樊锦诗这样想。突然，房顶上有什么东西哗啦一下掉 了下来，正中樊锦诗的被子。她没有受伤，但是被吓了一跳。她下意识地用手摸索过去，却摸到了一个有温度的、毛绒绒的东西。樊锦诗惊得汗毛都立起来了，“噌”的一下从床上蹦了出来。那毛绒绒的东西也吓了一跳，“吱”的一声从床上溜到了床底——原来是一只老鼠！此后数月，樊锦诗睡觉更加心神不定了。

当时的莫高窟，台阶早已风化殆尽。研究者们必须依靠梯子爬上爬下通往洞窟。可木梯在大风中晃动，爬上去感觉像在荡秋千。每次上下，樊锦诗都战战兢兢，所以她每天开始工作前都喝好水、上好厕所，这样，便避免了频繁地爬上爬下。

因为每天都在洞窟里，爱人又远在千里之外，樊锦诗没有时间照顾孩子。她常常无奈地把几个月大的孩子独自留在家里。每次回家，进门前听到孩子哭，她才放下心来。所以，她似乎不记得自己的孩子是怎么长大的。

回忆起当年，樊锦诗说：“说没有犹豫动摇，那是假话。和北京相比，那里简直就不是同一个世界，到处是苍凉的黄沙。”

但不知为什么，她没有办法迈出离开莫高窟的那一步。她总说：“莫高窟的这些真迹，随着时间推移慢慢就消失了，我心里觉得不是滋味。”敦煌莫高窟的735个洞窟、4.5万平方米壁画、2415个雕塑，在她眼里，一寸都不能再损失了。

虽然敦煌艺术是人类瑰宝，被世人欣赏，但是络绎不绝的游客，在观赏艺术的同时，也使洞藏艺术受到破坏。要知道，多一束光线、多一度气温、多一分湿度， 都可能给壁画带来不可逆转的伤害。但她又不忍让敦煌艺术永远藏在关闭的大门后。她意识到，旧的保护方法行不通。

2014年，数字敦煌艺术展厅正式在敦煌竣工。走入展厅，高清的莫高窟佛像，飞天壁画便映入眼帘，相比昏暗的洞窟，色泽鲜亮的投影图画、恰到好处的光线、布满穹顶的展示空间，都让人的胸襟豁然开朗。2016年，数字敦煌正式上线，从此，世界各地的人都可以在互联网上欣赏莫高窟30个经典洞窟和4.5万平方米的壁画。这一年，樊锦诗已经79岁了，但她还在努力，努力让莫高窟只剩空白的那天，永远不会来到。

敦煌莫高窟及洞藏艺术，在她的努力下，又逐步恢复了曾经锦绣如诗、繁盛如阳的状貌。

五十多载的风霜、别离、困苦，没有让她动摇，现在的成就，也没有让她忘记初心。她永远惦念敦煌，以至于忘记了自己。若莫高窟有知，那壁画上的琵琶、横笛与腰鼓都会奏响，九色鹿王、佛国秘境都会苏醒，用以感谢她的无量功德。

故事要旨

樊锦诗以祖国需要为人生目标，来到敦煌，五十多年不改守护敦煌的初心，体现了她作为中国文化工作者对祖国历史文化的热爱，为中国文化的保留和传承做出巨大贡献。

Fan Jinshi

Daughter of Dunhuang

Fan Jinshi (樊锦诗), associated with the Dunhuang Mogao Grottoes for over 50 years, was called “Daughter of Dunhuang.”

  In 1963, cherishing boundless imagination, she graduated from Peking University, and was assigned to work at the Research Institute of Dunhuang Cultural Relics. It was the start of her Dunhuang career.

  “Dun” means big, and “huang” means prosperous. Dunhuang was an important town on the ancient Silk Road, and the Mogao Grottoes cave art is part of the world’s intangible cultural heritage. Fan Jinshi went to Dunhuang to bring its over-1,000-year-old splendor permanently before the eyes of the world.

  However, life doesn’t fulfill our ambitions so easily.

  At that time there was neither electricity nor piped water at Dunhuang, and Fan Jinshi and her colleagues were squeezed into a cave dwelling. They had to sleep on hard and cold boards, and the wind howled every night. Once, Fan heard a scratching sound on the roof.

  “It’s probably something blown by the fierce wind onto the roof,” she thought. Then suddenly something fell down from the ceiling onto Fan’s quilt. She was unhurt, but in a great fright. Forcing herself to calm down, she felt around with her hand, until she came across something warm and furry. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and she tumbled out of bed. The hairy thing gave a squeak, and scuttled under the bed: It was a rat! For the next few months Fan Jinshi slept very uneasily.

  In those days, access to the grottoes at Dunhuang had already been eroded; the researchers had to rely on wooden ladders to get up and down. The ladders would sway in a high wind, making those on them feel as if they were on a swing. Fan trembled every time she had to climb these ladders, so every day she would drink water and use the toilet before work so that she wouldn’t have to go up and down too often.

  Because she was working in the grottoes every day, and her husband was far from home, Fan Jinshi had no time to look after her baby, only a few months old, whom she was forced to leave at home for long periods at a time. Every time she returned home she was only relieved when she heard the baby crying before she had even reached the door. So she seemed to have no memory of how her baby was growing.

  Reflecting today on those times, Fan Jinshi says, “It wouldn’t be true to say that we never hesitated or wavered. Compared to Beijing, it was like it simply wasn’t in the same world; everywhere, there was desolate yellow sand.”

  She doesn’t know why, but she could find no way to take the first bold step to leave this place. She often says, “It pained me to think that the Mogao Grotto relics had been gradually eroded with the passage of time.” There are 735 grottoes at Dunhuang, 45,000 square meters of frescoes and 2,415 sculptures. Fan was determined that not one more inch should be lost.

  Although the art of Dunhuang is a treasure for all mankind and deserves to be appreciated by the whole world, the endless stream of visitors, while making Dunhuang better known, are unwittingly at the same time helping to destroy it. Every extra ray of light, every extra degree of temperature, every extra degree of humidity could bring about irreversible damage to the wall paintings. Nevertheless, Fan Jinshi was determined that the art of Dunhuang would not be sealed and locked away forever, when she came to realise that the old methods of preservation were no longer valid.

  In 2014 the Mogao Grottoes Digital Exhibition Center was officially completed at Dunhuang. On entering the Exhibition Hall, the first thing to be seen was a high-definition picture of one of the statues of the Buddha from the Mogao Grottoes, and the images of flying apsaras from frescoes. In contrast to the gloomy grottoes, the colors and luster of the projected images were fresh and bright, the light showing them to the best advantage. Together with the exhibition space in the arch vault, filled with such images, they all gave people a feeling full of romance. In 2016 the digital exhibition center formally went online, and thenceforth people all over the world could appreciate 30 of the classical grottoes of Dunhuang and their 45,000 square meters of wall paintings via the Internet. In that year, Fan was 79 years old, but she was still working, hoping that the day when there would be nothing left of the Mogao Grottoes would never come.

  With Fan’s efforts, the Mogao Grottes and their cave art have gradually regained their images of poetic splendor and radiant brilliance.

  Fan never yielded in over 50 years of storm and stress, partings, and hard work. Even her present success has not made her change her original determination. Her thoughts were always fixed on Dunhuang, to the neglect of herself. If the Mogao Grottoes could know this, the zithers, flutes and drums in the wall paintings would all sound together, and the King Nine-colored Deer and Sukhavati would waken to give thanks to Fan for her unstinting devotion to them.

  The Moral of This Story

Fan Jinshi, taking her country’s need as her lifelong goal, went to Dunhuang, and for more than 50 years devoted herself unwaveringly to its protection. She personifies the burning love for the history and culture of their motherland of China’s cultural workers, making a tremendous contribution to the preservation and transmission of Chinese culture.

中国成就

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早上7 点正是早市开张，和平菜市场里人声鼎沸。在一片嘈杂的吆喝声中，有一个声音显得格外特别，除了夸奖自己的蔬菜多么新鲜多么便宜，还要在末尾加上一句“微信、支付宝均可”。

声音的主人叫老李，在和平菜市场摆了两三年的摊，市场里的常客便都认识他。别看老李是 60 多岁的老人，身上穿的手里用的没有一件不新奇：头上扣着棒球帽，脚下踩着一双挺抢眼的蓝色拖鞋，一只耳朵上还挂着长长的白色耳机线。他不服老似的，喜欢研究新鲜玩意儿，什么都想拿来试一试，于是人送外号“李时髦”。

在他的菜摊旁边支着一根小杆子，上面挂着一绿一蓝两张小卡片，上面印着两个黑色的小方块，仔细看是由许多小黑点拼凑成的。

“不懂了吧，这叫二维码。”这会儿没有客人，老李一脸得意地冲着对面卖猪肉的炫耀。后者哼笑了一声，表示听不懂，也不关心。 不过老李摊前的景象确实新奇，频频引得旁人侧头去看：老头、老太太们大多还是照旧掏出纸币，他收下放在脚边的纸箱里，又从里面挑出零钱来找给顾客。上班的年轻男女来买菜，总是在他报出菜价之后便掏出手机，说一句“微信”或是“支付宝”，把手机对着那一绿一蓝的小纸片照一下。别人只听见“嘀”的一声，手机一响，顾客就走了。全程老李动也没动，却听见他手机上传出声音：“已到账，五元七角。”

老李正低头点着箱子里的零钱，忽然听见对面一连串的道歉。他抬头看去，只见卖猪肉的案板上放着刚剁好的排骨，神情有点尴尬，旁边站着一个人不住地道歉。原来是那人出门太急居然忘带钱包，排骨都已经切好了才发现自己付不了钱， 回家取钱又麻烦，就想说不要了。

“这个好办，你用微信转账行不行？”买肉人忙不迭地点头说“可以”。老李伸手向卖猪肉的要手机，见他犹豫，又补了一句：“肉钱不要了？放心不坑你。”

只见老李在手机屏幕上点开微信，不知又按了哪里，屏幕上跳出一个和他摊位挂着的类似的小方块，凑近了看，小黑点的组合又不太一样。“来，扫这儿。”买肉的人露出笑脸，举起手机对着屏幕上的小方块一扫，又是“嘀”的一声。老李把手机转给卖猪肉的看，屏幕上白底黑字写着：“收入40.2 元。”

“这，这就付完了？”卖猪肉的拿过手机翻来覆去看，一脸不可置信。“可不是吗，钱全在你手机里存着呢。下回你想买东西，也用手机一扫，它就又付出去了。”老李耐心给他讲。

“乖乖，就用你说的，那个什么，二维码？”

“这还不算，我还用手机交过电费，以后都不用去银行排队了。”

“那你说，我儿子在省城读书，他的学费、书本费我是不是也能这样，扫一下手机就交了？”

“当然可以啦！这叫移动支付。以后我们只要有个手机，就可以随身不带钱啦！那时候，小偷都不知该偷谁啦！”

故事要旨

移动支付的出现使中国的社会生态发生改变，无现金社会与万物互联正逐步变成现实。智慧的中国人用移动互联网将人们的生活彻底改变，这是中国人创新精神的体现，更是中国人全面实现小康进程中的重要成果。

Mobile Payment

New-Fashion Food Market

This early-morning market opens at 7 a.m. Heping Market is filled with a hubbub of voices. But amid the clamor one cry stands out as being special: On the tail end of the usual boastful claim of how fresh and cheap the vendor’s vegetables are is the assurance “I accept WeChat and Alipay!’’

  The utterer of this cry is a man called Old Li, who has been running a stall in Heping Market for a few years, and is well known to the market regulars. For a man in his 60s, everything he wears or carries in his hands is unusual – a baseball cap on his head and a pair of eye-catching blue slippers on his feet, and dangling from one ear is a long white wire from an earpiece. Not satisfied with the old ways, Old Li likes to try out everything new, and so people have given him the nickname “Fashionable Old Li.”   

Beside his vegetable stall stands a small pole, hanging from which are two small cards, one green, one blue. There is a black square printed on each card, which, upon close inspection, turns out to be made up of numerous black dots.   

“You don’t know what these are? They’re called QR codes.” Old Li, having no customers for the moment, calls across to a pork vendor, with a smile of smug satisfaction. The other snorts, indicating that he neither understands nor cares.   

The new scene before Old Li’s stall attracted passers-by to gaze at this novelty. Most of the old people pulled out paper notes, as they always had, and Old Li dipped into a cardboard box at his feet to get their change. But young people buying vegetables on their way to work would produce their mobile phones after finding out the price from Old Li. Saying only “WeChat” or “Alipay,” they would click on one of Old Li’s cards, either green or blue. With only a “click” of their phone cameras, the customers leave. Throughout the whole process, Old Li hasn’t had to move a muscle; every time he heard a click, he knew how much had been paid.   

Old Li had just ducked his head to get change from his box, when he suddenly heard profuse apologies coming from across the way. Raising his head, he saw that there were freshly chopped ribs on the table of the pork butcher, and nearby was a man looking embarrassed and full of apologies. It turned out that he had left home in a hurry and forgotten his wallet. The ribs had already been chopped up, when he discovered that he couldn’t pay for them. It was too much trouble to go back home for his wallet, so he had to do without the ribs.   

“This is easily solved,” said Old Li to the potential customer. “You’ve got a WeChat account, haven’t you?” When the other nodded vigorously while saying “yes,” Old Li stretched out his hand for the butcher’s mobile phone. Seeing the latter hesitate, Old Li reassured him: “Don’t you want to be paid for the meat? Don’t worry. I won’t cheat you.”   

Old Li calls up WeChat onto the screen of his mobile phone, and from somewhere there appears a small square like those hanging outside his booth. On closer inspection, the black dots are found to be arranged somewhat differently.   

“Here,” Old Li says to the customer, “Swipe this.”   

Beaming, the customer swipes his own mobile phone against the small square on the other phone. There is a whirring sound, and Old Li hands the phone back to the butcher; on the screen in black letters and numbers against a white background appears “Received 40.2 yuan.”

“Does this mean that the money has been paid?” asks the butcher, turning the mobile phone over in his hand and peering at it doubtfully.   

“Of course,” replies Old Li, explaining patiently: “The payment is saved on your phone. The next time you want to buy something, with one swipe of your phone it’s paid!”   

“Excellent!” exclaimed the butcher. “I’ll do as you say. But what is a QR code?”   

“It’s simple enough. I can even use my mobile phone to pay my telephone bill. Now I don’t have to queue up at the bank.”   

“So, do you mean that I can pay the tuition and book fees for my son, who is studying in the provincial capital, in the same way – with one swipe of my mobile phone?”   

“Of course! It’s called mobile payment. Before long, with a mobile phone, there’ll be no need for us to carry cash at all. And then, pickpockets won’t know whom to pick on!”    

The Moral of This Story  

The emergence of mobile payment has produced a change in China’s social ecology. The cashless society and universal connectivity are gradually transforming reality. The fact that intelligent Chinese are using the mobile Internet to bring about a fundamental change in people’s lives is an embodiment of their creative spirit and an important outcome of the Chinese people’s advance toward an overall comfortably-off society.   

中国艺术

绘画

《富春山居图》的悲欢离合

《富春山居图》的作者黄公望有着平淡而坎坷的一生。他年轻时，宋朝灭亡， 科举取消；40岁前，他追求功名，被困在乏味的小官职上；40岁那年，他被长官牵连下狱，坐牢10 年；50岁出狱，转身成了道士，隐居民间，卖卜为生。他结交了许多志同道合的朋友，其中就有赵孟頫（fǔ）、吴镇、王蒙等画家，开始拜师学画。

元朝至正七年，79岁的黄公望和师弟无用一起从松江来到浙江富阳。黄公望很快被“无处不画图”的富春山水吸引住了，于是便不想再四处云游，想住下来描绘富春江的美丽景色。无用虽然也酷爱书画，但他不擅绘画，于是独自云游去了。

黄公望沉浸在富春江秀丽的自然景色之中，时常戴着竹笠，穿着芒鞋，一副当地山民的打扮独自出门。沿江而上，他观察烟云变幻之奇，遇到好景就随时画下来，日复一日。有时为了一幅画面，他呆呆地坐在石头上，一坐就是一日，下雨也毫不知觉。黄公望踏遍了富春江两岸，背着画卷一路前行。渔舟唱晚，山林寂静，都变成了他人生的注脚。

那《富春山居图》画面有春明村、庙山、大岭及富春江等山川秋初景色景致。 沙岸沙渚，房舍散聚，峰峦层叠，林木葱郁，江流沃土。云烟掩映着村舍，水波中出没渔舟。近树苍苍，溪山深远，飞泉倒挂，亭台小桥，各得其所。景随人迁，人随景移，步步可观……在色彩渲染上，黄公望用淡赭色来表达秋意，若明若暗地笼罩于画中的景物之上，在秋季水气之上形成明媚色调，生动自然。

有一日，黄公望委托村民到城里卖画以换取生活费，没想到村民回来时身后的人一个箭步跑过去，紧紧抱住黄公望——原来那便是云游四方的无用师弟。人到暮年，与故友久别重逢，那是怎样的感慨与感动？不久后，《富春山居图》大作完成， 黄公望喟然长叹，将毕生心血之作郑重赠予无用，几年后与世长辞。

画家虽已逝，但这幅画的动人传奇才刚刚起笔。古往今来，历代书画家、收藏家、鉴赏家都对《富春山居图》推崇备至，并以能目睹这件真迹为荣，使得这卷宝图既备受赞颂，也历尽沧桑，可谓“一甲子一颠簸”。

画卷在数百年流传中饱经沧桑，至明成化年间，由沈周收藏。沈周自从得到这件宝贝，就爱不释手，把它挂在墙上，反复欣赏、临摹，不料画却离奇被盗。一 天，沈周在画摊上见到了《富春山居图》，大喜若狂，连忙跑回家筹钱买画。当他筹集到钱返回画摊时，画已经被人买走了。沈周捶胸顿足，放声大哭，可是后悔已经晚矣。于是沈周就凭借记忆，背摹了一幅《富春山居图》以慰情思。

后来，《富春山居图》辗转到了明代收藏家吴洪裕手中。他在弥留之际想效仿唐太宗把画带到来生，将画付之一炬。好在他的侄子眼疾手快将画抢救出来，但画作已被烧出连珠洞，断为一大一小两段，至此，稀世画作《富春山居图》一分为二。 1652年，吴家子弟吴寄谷得到此画后，将小段烧焦部分揭下，重新细心装裱后， 居然正好有一山一水一丘一壑之景，而且几乎看不出经剪裁过的痕迹。从此，大段部分被称为《富春山居图》（无用师卷），小段的部分人们称之为“剩山图”。

1745年，一幅《富春山居图》被征入宫。乾隆皇帝见到后爱不释手，把它珍藏在身边，不时取出来欣赏，并且在6米长卷的留白处赋诗题词，加盖玉玺。第二年，乾隆十一年的冬天，《富春山居图》（无用师卷）来到了弘历皇帝面前。他一边坚定地宣布“无用师卷”是赝品，一边又以不菲的价格将这幅所谓的赝品买下。理由是，这幅画虽不是真迹，但画得还不错。为此他还特意请大臣来，在《富春山居 图》上题跋留念。来观画的大臣无一例外地歌颂了皇帝热爱艺术、不拘泥真伪的广阔胸怀，可谁也不敢点破：这幅画它本来就是真迹。

就这样，《富春山居图》（无用师卷）真迹在清宫里静静安放了187 年。直到1933年，日军攻占了山海关。故宫博物院决定将馆藏精品转移，以避战火浩劫。《富春山居图》与近百万件故宫文物一起，历尽艰辛坎坷，行程数万公里，由北京经南京辗转运抵四川、贵州。抗战结束后，陆续运回南京，又于 1948 年年底，被运至台湾继而被转运至台北。如今，它的前段“剩山图”珍藏于浙江省博物馆，后段“无用师卷”藏于“台北故宫”博物院。2011年，“山水合璧——黄公望与富春山居图特展”在“台北故宫”博物院举行。至此，《富春山居图》前段“剩山图”与后段“无用师卷”实现 360年来的初次合璧。

为什么《富春山居图》被中国一代又一代的文人深深痴爱？黄公望寄情山水，

物我两忘，天人合一，终获心灵的开阔与自由，这正是中国文人追求的生命境界。 这幅画也让人们感悟人间的悲欢离合——人与人的离合、人与物的离合、物与物的离合，掩卷沉思，唏嘘不已。

故事要旨

从追求功名与世俗坎坷，到寄情山水与天人合一，黄公望终于在富春江上找到了内心的开阔与自由。几百年来，这幅名画见证了人与人的离合、人与物的离合、 物与物的离合，成为古画中的无二传奇。

Painting

Twists and Turns of Dwelling in the Fuchun Mountains

Dwelling in the Fuchun Mountains was the work of Huang Gongwang (黄公望), who lived an unspectacular and unfulfilled life. As a young man, he was deprived of the opportunity of taking the imperial examination when it was canceled after the fall of the Song Dynasty (960-1279). Trapped in a boring and insignificant post until age 40, he, implicated in a superior’s crime, was jailed for 10 years. Then he converted to Taoism and led a secluded life, earning his living by practicing divination. In addition, he associated with many figures of similar interests and temperament, including such famous painters as Zhao Mengfu, Wu Zhen and Wang Meng, from whom he began to learn painting.

In the seventh year (1347) of the Zhizheng reign period of Emperor Hui of the Yuan Dynasty, 79-year-old Huang Gongwang traveled with Wu Yong (无用), his junior fellow apprentice, from Songjiang to Fuyang, Zhejiang Province. Immediately captivated by the beautiful scenery of the Fuchun Mountains, famed as “Nature’s gallery,” he decided to stay and paint, thus ending his traveling days. Wu Yong, a painting enthusiast himself but not exceptionally good at it, then went on his way alone.

Huang Gongwang, completely absorbed in the natural scenery, would often head out by himself, dressed like a local villager in a bamboo hat and a pair of straw sandals. On his way upstream, he would observe the capricious forms of the clouds and mist, and stop in his tracks to draw the mesmerizing scenes. At times, he would perch upon a rock for an entire day just to get a painting right, even oblivious to the rain. Days passed as his feet carried him everywhere along the Fuchun River, a palette his only companion. The fishermen returning with songs at dusk, and the forests immersed in tranquility – all were witnesses of his days lost in his reverie of painting.

Dwelling in the Fuchun Mountains presents a panoramic view of Chunming Village, Miao Peak, Daling Mountain and Fuchun River in early autumn. There sandbanks are emerging from the water, accompanied by isolated or clustered houses, screens of undulating hills, and walls of luxuriant trees and shrubs, as well as rivers and fertile fields. Cottages and huts are half-hidden in the misty clouds, and fishing boats break the waves. Gazing upon the painting, one can zoom in to the pervasive green forest and emerge upon streams and waterfalls flowing down the mountains to the verdant depths with pavilions, terraces and footbridges here and there. The scenes magically unfold in a changing perspective, revealing new details in a truly kaleidoscopic aesthetic experience. Huang Gongwang applied a sepia tone of translucent beauty to render the ambience of autumn. With the contrast of the bright colors above the autumn mist, the painting is effortlessly lifelike.

One day, Huang Gongwang asked a villager to sell some of his paintings in the town for money. The villager returned with someone else, who, the minute he laid eyes on Huang, raced to him and hugged him. It was his long-separated friend Wu Yong. What an emotional moment, meeting a dear old friend again after so many years and at such an old age! Before long, Huang finally completed this masterpiece, his lifetime’s work. With a long sigh, he bequeathed it to Wu Yong, and died a few years later.

The painter had passed on, but the legend of the painting was only just beginning. For almost 1,000 years the timeless classic of Dwelling in the Fuchun Mountains has been the crown jewel for painters, collectors and connoisseurs, and an honor for them even to lay eyes upon. But the painting’s unparalleled prestige has served as a double-edged sword, bringing overflowing admiration as well as ceaseless troubles. It almost seemed that the fate of the painting went up and down every few decades.

Centuries after its creation, the painting had been through many vicissitudes, before it was owned by Shen Zhou in Emperor Chenghua’s reign in the Ming Dynasty (1368-1644). As a fervent lover of the painting, Shen hung it on a wall for tireless appreciation and imitation, but, to his chagrin, it was eventually mysteriously stolen. It was said that Shen Zhou did spot it again on a seller’s stand, and, ecstatic, he ran home to raise money to pay for it, only to find it sold when he returned. Berating himself, Shen Zhou cried his eyes out. There was simply nothing he could do to retrieve his treasured painting but copy it from memory to comfort himself.

Over time, the painting passed through many hands until it was obtained by Wu Hongyu, a Ming Dynasty collector who, following the superstitious example of Emperor Tai of the Tang Dynasty (618-907), was about to burn it before he died. Fortunately, his nephew saved it from the flames, but not all of it. The painting was burned in the middle and barely remained in one piece. A descendent of the Wu family, Wu Jigu, acquired the painting in 1652. He removed the burned portion of the painting, preserving two parts, one larger and one smaller. To his surprise, properly mounted, the smaller portion was still almost a complete painting in its own right, with one peak, one river, one hill and one valley. Since then, the bigger part of the painting has been known as Dwelling in the Fuchun Mountains: Master Wu Yong’s Scroll, while the smaller part was dubbed The Remaining Scroll.

In 1745, one of the two paintings was submitted to Emperor Qianlong, who couldn’t take his hands off it and left his inscriptions, including his imperial seal, on the margins. The next winter Master Wu Yong’s Scroll came to him. The emperor bought it for a high price, declaring that it was a fake but deserved a good payment. He even had his senior ministers write prefaces and postscripts for both paintings. The officials, summoned to the viewing, unanimously complimented His Majesty’s artistic enthusiasm and taste, not daring to mention it was actually an authentic work.

Thus the genuine Master Wu Yong’s Scroll lay in the Forbidden City for 187 years, until the Japanese invasion in 1933 forced the Imperial Palace Museum to relocate its most precious exhibits. Master Wu Yong’s Scroll, together with almost a million other pieces of art, embarked upon a journey of thousands of miles from Beijing to Nanjing, Sichuan and Guizhou. After the war, they were transported back to Nanjing and then to Taiwan at the end of 1948. The Remaining Scroll now is kept in the Zhejiang Provincial Museum, while Master Wu Yong’s Scroll is in the Taipei Palace Museum, where a joint exhibition, titled, “The Reunion of Mountains and Rivers,” was held in 2011. This witnessed the reunion of the two pieces for the very first time in 360 years.

Exactly what makes a painting so captivating that it fascinated generations of Chinese literati? Think about its painter, Huang Gongwang, who acquired the ultimate freedom of mind by abandoning himself to Nature, thus becoming part of Nature. To be one with Nature is the very state generations of learned Chinese have aspired to. At the same time, the painting’s odyssey over the centuries imbues viewers with strong emotions about separation and reunion – those between men, between objects and even between men and objects. No wonder one cannot help but sigh with mixed feelings viewing this masterpiece.

The Moral of This Story

After a lifetime of pursuing official ranks, a lifetime of worldly troubles, Huang Gongwang finally abandoned himself to becoming one with Nature. In so doing, he discovered his ultimate purpose in life and freedom of mind by the beautiful Fuchun River. His legacy, a timeless classic of Chinese traditional painting, witnessed the separation and reunion between men, between objects, and between men and objects. Its story has become a unique legend of traditional paintings.

中国精神

中国梦

扎根乡土的中国梦

“我希望每一个村落都是丰富的、美丽的。”

王小平踏上阿坝州的土地时，心里只是怀揣了一个小小的梦想。没想到，为了实现这个梦想，她一做就是十几年，行走了10万公里，穿行于湖南、云南、四川、西藏等省和自治区，编写了九本乡土系列教材。

乡土，是每一个热爱家乡的人心中的惦念。

中国有960万平方公里的土地。由于地大物博、幅员辽阔，所以各地的风景不同，民俗传统各异。特别是远离城市的偏远农村里，至今还保留着丰富的民俗文化。与此同时，由于这些地方经济发展落后，教育资源缺乏，很多农村孩子很难像城里的孩子视野开阔、活泼自信。即便有的孩子跟随父母到了城市生活，他们对于自己的家乡越来越陌生，却又融入不进城市，也回不了农村，慢慢地变成了这个社会的边缘人。

“如何改变这样的现状？让乡下的孩子变得自信起来，让他们也拥有自己的竞争力？”这是王小平一直思考的问题。作为一名教育工作者，她想让来自农村的孩子们都热爱家乡。乡土，是孩子成长的摇篮，是长大后不论身居何处都挂念的地方。要让孩子们传承乡土丰富的文化资源，要让孩子们学习自己民族的历史、风俗人情。

从此，王小平开始了自己的行走之路，只因心中梦想不变，只愿“每一个村落都是丰富的、美丽的”。

刚开始编写乡土系列教材时，王小平遇到很多困难。她需要到一个完全陌生的地方用一己之力说服当地的教育局与自己合作。很多人问她：“这样不挣钱的事情为什么还要做？”王小平只是一笑。她知道别人很难理解她对梦想的坚持，但她心中有梦，脚步就不会停。这也许就是她能够打动当地教育局负责人的原因。

还有人问她为什么要做这件事。她动情地说：“一提到中国，大家都想到长江、黄河、长城这样的事物。我们有的孩子一辈子都见不到这些事物，但只要他热爱自己家乡的山和水，能够了解它们的历史文化并传承下来，就能把这转化为自己未来的发展资源，更好地建设家乡。”

还有人问她：“到条件那么艰苦的地方去，又遇到很多困难，你会放弃吗？”她回答：“困难很多，但因为有梦想，我就会努力去想解决困难的办法而不是抱怨。想想那些在乡下的孩子拿到乡土教材时兴奋的神情，想想孩子们在乡土课堂上求知的眼神，我就会满怀信心地继续自己的事业！”

2017年6月，在阿坝县民族寄宿小学，来自若尔盖县的藏姆老师给孩子们上了《黑帐篷》这节课。这是在王小平乡土教材推广下的一节示范课。这节课上，藏姆老师用真实的原料按比例压缩制成了一个黑帐篷模型，让孩子们亲身感受了若尔盖地区的民居特点。课堂上，孩子们时而凝神静听，时而踊跃发言，时而专注思考。王小平看到孩子们完全被这样的课堂吸引，欣慰地笑了。

“我希望每一个村落都是丰富的、美丽的。”王小平用行动实现了梦想。这个小小的梦想背后是一个大大的中国梦。

故事要旨

每个人都有梦想。把个人的梦想和社会的发展、祖国的前途命运相结合就会让梦想变得宏大。中国梦将会在每一个人追求梦想的行动中实现。立足于开拓乡村教育，王小平努力探索并勇敢实践。像这样的中国梦践行者还有很多很多。

The China Dream

For Each and Every Native Village

“My dream is for every village to be beautiful in its own unique way.”

Wang Xiaoping ( 王小平 ) set foot in Aba Prefecture with a simple dream. Never could she have imagined that her dream would cost over ten years of her life and more than 100,000 kilometers of travel to provinces and autonomous regions such as Hunan, Yunnan, Sichuan and Tibet to complete her nine-volume series of “Native Lands of China.”

Native lands, where memory of home finds its rest.

A vast land of 9,600,000 square kilometers and with the world’s largest population, China has abundant natural resources and is rich in scenic and cultural diversity. In different regions, particularly in remote villages in the depths of the countryside, unique folk cultures are preserved to this day. But they usually coexist with a stagnant rural economy and deficient educational resources, making it hard for many village children to keep a broad perspective and a positive outlook. Some of these children may migrate with their parents to cities, only to find themselves gradually marginalized, estranged from their hometowns yet unable to blend into the new urban environment.

As an educator, Wang Xiaoping had long asked herself: “Is there a way to remedy this – to restore these kids’ confidence and help them forge their own competitiveness?” Her solution was to awaken the children’s love and nostalgia for the rich culture and heritage of their native homes and lands in which they began life, regardless of where they moved later. Children must learn to treasure their own histories and folk customs, she thought.

Thus Wang Xiaoping began her journey to pursue her dream that “every village should be beautiful in its own unique way.”

From the outset, Wang had plenty of setbacks, having to barge into completely strange places and persuade local educational authorities to collaborate with her. When asked why she would undertake such payless work, she just smiled, knowing very well that it wasn’t easy to understand. With only her dream as her guide, she traveled far and wide. Her persistence eventually paid off, and local education authorities lent a hand.

Once, when someone asked her why she had embarked on this adventure, she explained with emotion: “When we talk about China, what do people immediately think of? The Yangtze River? The Yellow River? Or maybe the Great Wall? Well, there are children in this country who may never in their life see these! But they have their own Yellow River and Great Wall – the mountains and rivers in their native places. If they are in touch with their unique history and culture, they are likely to turn it into their own unique strength, and make their own contributions to the places they love.”

When asked if she’d considered giving up because of all the hardships and setbacks in the less-developed regions, she answered, “I am well aware of all the problems. But I choose to seek solutions rather than complain. My heart is pumped up at the single thought of the excited faces and yearning looks of the children, holding their new textbooks in classes designed especially for them.”

One of these classes was held in June 2017 when Ms Zang Mu from Ruo’ergai County came to Aba County Minority Boarding School to teach children on the subject of “Black Tents.” To promote the textbook series to the class, Ms Zang Mu introduced the Ruo’ergai region’s unique traditional black tents by building a model of a tent with authentic materials. Wang Xiaoping smiled, deeply satisfied at seeing the children’s intent focus and their enthusiastic discussion.

“My dream is that every village should be beautiful in its own unique way.” Wang Xiaoping acted to make her dream a reality, in concert with a much bigger dream for the whole nation – the China Dream.

The Moral of This Story

Everyone is entitled to dream. Individual dreams, when associated with the development of a society and the fate of a nation, become all the more grand. The China Dream as we know it can only be realized when every individual’s dream is realized through action. Wang Xiaoping’s version of the China Dream was to develop rural education by compiling textbooks of local cultures, for which she worked hard and bravely. There are many others like her pursuing their own China Dream.