Ascending This Tower, the Heart Is Relaxed and Joyful!

At 10:29 a.m. on October 26, the stunning appearance of Wanghai Tower in Taizhou. As I walked up the grassy slope, I saw the tower in its full view: the four eaves were not overly exaggerated, so the structure felt both solid and slender. Historically known as 'The First Tower of Jianghuai,' it is now a landmark of Taizhou. After eight hundred years, it has undergone many rises and falls.

The elevator to the tower is about the size of the one outside my apartment, only able to carry six or seven people at a time, which seems mismatched with the grandeur of Wanghai Tower.

I queued to enter the elevator, and when I stepped out on the fourth floor, I was greeted by a sudden spaciousness!

Looking far into the distance from on high, my eyes and ears were refreshed, my spirit cleansed—this has been true since ancient times: 'Ascending this tower, one feels carefree and joyful, forgetting both favor and disgrace, holding a cup of wine in the breeze, filled with delight...' The Yueyang Tower that Fan Zhongyan climbed is far less majestic than Wanghai Tower. On this fine day with the golden autumn wind, looking down from above at Taizhou's Water City, the close-up views were so endearing that I was reminded of the scene when I pushed open a window at Xichun Terrace in Yangzhou—that window was called 'Yangzhou's Best Window.' Today, leaning on the railing and looking into the distance, I sighed: this is Taizhou's 'Best Viewing Promenade.'

The feeling of 'holding a cup of wine in the breeze, filled with delight' swelled in my heart. My thoughts also took flight.

I recalled the poem 'On the Eighth Day of September' by the late Tang poet Sikong Tu:

'Alone as a flower in this mortal world, / Knowing loneliness, it clings to a humble home. / In old age, one cannot climb high to see, / Even more than in late spring, one cherishes the fleeting years.'

I am an old man past seventy, and the line 'In old age, one cannot climb high to see' caught my attention and resonated with me.

Seventy is a watershed for me. Before that, my legs were nimble, I knew nothing about 'knee protection,' I could leave anytime and was not afraid of heights. After that, I understood, realized I needed to 'use them sparingly,' as human knees have a lifespan. When I signed up for the three-day tour of Taizhou, I specifically asked: 'Will there be mountain climbing?' Lian Po is old, but he can still climb; to protect my knees, I dare not climb.

Of course, Sikong Tu's 'In old age, one cannot climb high to see' on the surface means that old people should not climb high and look far. In the declining years, one must take extra care of one's health. In fact, there is a deeper meaning.

Sikong Tu's 'climbing high' and Su Shi's 'high places are unbearably cold'—the two words 'high' are different in expression but equally subtle.

The line 'Even more than in late spring, one cherishes the fleeting years' indeed offers a fresh perspective. The poet uses 'late spring' to describe old age, which is more poetic and picturesque than the modern term 'sunset glow.'

Ascending this tower, standing on the promenade, looking down, gazing into the distance, taking photos, posing for a group photo with Mr. Wang... what a joy today!