Rain and Wind Chat

Author: Zhou Zuoren
Publisher:
Publication Date: 2002-01-01
Features: The Talk of Wind and Rain was published by Shanghai Beishu Bookstore in October 1936. Except for the Preface and Afterword, the thirty-four essays in this collection were written between November 1935 and May 1936, following Notes on the Bitter Bamboo. The Talk of Wind and Rain was originally the title of a series of articles published in Universe Wind from January to May 1935. On September 27, 1964, Zhou Zuoren wrote in his diary: "In the evening, I reread The Talk of Wind and Rain and felt that my own writings were quite commendable—how amusing!" Before Notes on the Bitter Bamboo was compiled, I had already decided to write a collection titled The Talk of Wind and Rain. The content was not yet determined—it was just going to be a series of short essays anyway—but the title was settled early: The Talk of Wind and Rain. I rather like this title. , here is an allusion. The Book of Songs in the Zheng Feng section includes three chapters titled Wind and Rain. The text goes, "The wind is bleak, the rain is cold,..." and so on, though I won’t quote it in full here. The Poetic Questions by Hao Xi of Qixia, Volume 2, cites an explanation by the wife of Wang Ruiyu: "Bleak () means cold and desolate. Harmonious () means the sound is gentle. Ruiyu said, 'Cold rain and forlorn roosters—how utterly aimless! If I could see a gentleman at this time, why should I still be troubled?' Thus, the friend may not come in the rain—it’s just an excuse.' 'Rustling () means sudden and fierce. Muddled () means the sound is mixed. Ruiyu said, 'Heavy rain pours down, the roosters chatter wildly—this accumulated worry has turned into illness. Seeing a gentleman would heal it.' 'Dark () means dim. Stopped () means ceased. Ruiyu said, 'The rain is heavy and the sky darkens, the roosters crow endlessly—how terribly lonely! How delightful it would be if a friend came to visit.'" Hao’s couple’s interpretation of the poetry is truly amusing, far surpassing Ji Pengshan of our hometown, who lived near Yuji Temple. Their insights are perhaps comparable to those of the layman Fuqing. I chose these three chapters of Wind and Rain for their atmosphere, yet I dared not claim the name of Wind and Rain Pavilion, so I just talk about it, naming my essays after it. Some say it resembles The Book of Rainy Days. But no, The Book of Rainy Days might be a bit melancholic, and though I may still be melancholic now, I hope there is a slight difference—like a cicada shedding its skin. The bleakness of the wind and rain until it darkens—I love this mood. Logically, this should be aimless and desolate, or even turn worry into illness. Yet, it is also "Why should I not delight in it?" I have few close friends, and they are all busy, so we meet rarely. But friends in books are many—available for me to meet anytime. There is plenty to talk about, but the difference is that I must spend money to buy books: opening a book and listening to a night’s worth of conversation is already a great joy. If I write it down, it is even better, though it is a bit amusing to write for a loss. But it is still a way to pass the time. Some ask, why not talk about wind and moon? I have thought about this too. Many friends may be expecting me to do so, thinking that it is the usual topic I discuss. Why haven’t I talked about it yet? Wind and moon are indeed topics to discuss, and frankly, I think I know a bit about them—far more than those who scold or fabricate tales about wind and moon. Yet, I won’t talk about them now. There is no particular reason, except that I have already decided on wind and rain, so I must give up the moon. After all, they are all astronomical things, with little difference. Rain and moon are just slightly different in atmosphere, and a bit of comparison shows that in the eyes of the righteous or the refined, they are the same. December 6, 1924.