朱宇暉 Zhu Yuhui

徐瑞彤 譯 Translated by Xu Ruitong

譚鐳 譯校 Proofread by Lui Tam

明天啟二年（1622）六月，暑熱未熾。山風(fēng)習(xí)習(xí)的午后，姑蘇城外西南諸峰中“林壑尤美”的天平山道，迎來(lái)了冠帶儼然、韶華秀茂的張宗子。

群山如屏、高林陰翳間，撲入他眼簾的，是山腳下澗水匯注的一汪明湖。堤橋逶迤，盤(pán)桓山麓，望之不盡，顯然經(jīng)歷了不動(dòng)聲色的整飭疏導(dǎo)；卻又蒲葦怒長(zhǎng)、清漪漫溢、亂石土岸，姿態(tài)橫生，由人工而復(fù)歸于天然，澄靜地倒映著滿山的顏色——那一瞬，曾經(jīng)年少輕狂、餐霞飲露，對(duì)家鄉(xiāng)紹興蘭亭的斧鑿景色不憚微詞的張宗子不由得凝住了腳步，他下意識(shí)地整一整衣冠，深吸一口氣，正色向前——踏上了池上那座蒼茂勁利、分水奔山的宛轉(zhuǎn)橋。

宛轉(zhuǎn)橋頭的張岱會(huì)不會(huì)瞬間恢復(fù)了“狂奴故態(tài)”？

他時(shí)而回首側(cè)睨著隔岸長(zhǎng)堤在池中一線如畫(huà)的倒影；時(shí)而俯首踮步，偷窺著腳下修長(zhǎng)而又厚實(shí)的花崗石梁間不經(jīng)意透出的脈脈池水和游魚(yú)；時(shí)而傾身負(fù)手，竭力探出低矮粗獷的石穿木欄桿，憨態(tài)畢露地隔空狂嗅著才露一角的尖尖池荷；時(shí)而舉頭瞻望亂石如笏的天平橫峰……時(shí)光靜逝里，直角峻折的另一端橋頭，那座故作低小的園門(mén)悄然帶上了一抹午后的斜陽(yáng)。園門(mén)里，就是祖父的同年進(jìn)士范長(zhǎng)白公的別業(yè)了。

數(shù)十年后，已是皤然一叟的張岱在《陶庵夢(mèng)憶》中津津回憶道，“園外有長(zhǎng)堤，桃柳曲橋，蟠屈湖面，橋盡抵園。園門(mén)故作低小，進(jìn)門(mén)則長(zhǎng)廊復(fù)壁，直達(dá)山麓。其繪樓幔閣、秘室曲房，故故匿之，不使人見(jiàn)也”——娓娓白描出的，正是一代山麓名園納縱拔于橫展、容豐富于純凈、高度克制而又飽含張力的空間妙趣。后來(lái)的崇禎十一年（1638）春月，已值不惑之年的張岱與好友探游“二十里松行欲盡，青山捧出梵王宮”的寧波府天童寺時(shí)，途經(jīng)長(zhǎng)松夾道、水田縱橫，再經(jīng)一汪如碧、萬(wàn)籟俱寂的“外萬(wàn)工池”，才豁然直面了巍巍太白山下，盈盈“內(nèi)萬(wàn)工池”前從容橫展、影入層漪的壯麗佛國(guó)?？墒潞?，他不過(guò)以“到山門(mén)，見(jiàn)萬(wàn)工池綠凈，可鑒須眉”數(shù)語(yǔ)帶過(guò)，轉(zhuǎn)而描繪寺僧樣貌——或許再美的皇皇寺景，也抵不過(guò)少年時(shí)驚鴻剎那的心馳神縱；再龐大的建筑格局，也抵不過(guò)少年時(shí)蒼山野塘之間，那一抹精心勾勒卻又妙入無(wú)痕的空間層疊、橫掠不盡之意，那一抹由幾代文明巔峰積淀而成的審美高致、空間雅懷和時(shí)代芳華。

月盈則缺，人亦如此。

流連宛轉(zhuǎn)橋頭的張岱哪里知道，這妙入無(wú)痕、恍若無(wú)盡的芳華已經(jīng)命懸頃刻了——僅僅23 年后，南明弘光元年（1645），清兵南下的鐵蹄就已經(jīng)踏碎了天平山下的宛轉(zhuǎn)情思，和千里江南的文明曉唱、藝術(shù)層累。好在悠長(zhǎng)近百年的生命和后半生的顛沛流離給了張岱足夠的時(shí)間和對(duì)比，去回味宛轉(zhuǎn)橋頭這美好的荷風(fēng)一度，就像暮年不得不孤獨(dú)徘徊在東京都“后樂(lè)園”圓月橋頭的朱舜水先生。

大約300 年后，另一個(gè)相似的時(shí)代，繼起的才人童寯先生，身披著海國(guó)萬(wàn)里的煙濤微茫和抗戰(zhàn)欲發(fā)的風(fēng)雷隱隱，孤影煢煢，穿過(guò)蘇州迎春坊的逼仄長(zhǎng)街和奉直會(huì)館的曲折避弄，從腰門(mén)步入了正沉浸在生命華光里的拙政園——在《江南園林志》中他深情寫(xiě)道：“今雖狐鼠穿屋，蘚苔蔽路，而山池天然，丹青淡剝，反覺(jué)逸趣橫生……”400 年名園山島蒼潤(rùn)、葦塘清漾、廊橋橫逸、堤岸遠(yuǎn)引，于莫測(cè)的亂世中，訴說(shuō)著悠遠(yuǎn)而純凈的莊嚴(yán)。

那一剎那，童寯先生如履天平道上，如入長(zhǎng)白園中，如與300 年前的張宗子神遇而魂接。

也許從宛轉(zhuǎn)橋頭，那低伏的明湖長(zhǎng)堤、矮垣折橋到園門(mén)內(nèi)曲折的畫(huà)樓幔閣、回廊深院，萬(wàn)千的橫向訴說(shuō)，一線的純粹勁利，都是為了烘托一峰的蒼然孤起，“萬(wàn)笏”的朝天之勢(shì)。

也許惟有宛轉(zhuǎn)橋頭，那一帶桃柳掩映著勁直的長(zhǎng)堤，那一抹殘陽(yáng)斜照著質(zhì)厚的垣墻，那一抹長(zhǎng)山遠(yuǎn)樹(shù)橫掠過(guò)不盡的柳岸葦塘，惟有這樣層疊橫舒而又一線勁利、于純凈內(nèi)斂中蘊(yùn)含著無(wú)限莊嚴(yán)與偉大的景象，才能與仿佛發(fā)自遠(yuǎn)古的天平山頭“萬(wàn)笏朝天”的磅礴力量相敵配，成就一代山麓名園的華彩篇章。

也許惟能橫逸者能縱拔，能勁利者能舒緩，能純凈者能絢爛。也許惟有賴于時(shí)代的審美高度與自信，才能運(yùn)斤成風(fēng)，渾不著意地將二者斬截并陳、熔鑄對(duì)比于一爐，才能以低平而素凈的民居化小體量建筑組群、層疊而純粹的橫向線條烘托峻拔山勢(shì)，映照瀲滟波光。山愈雄而室愈靜，墻愈素而楓愈丹，大處著眼，不事雕飾，逆峰運(yùn)筆，愈簡(jiǎn)愈工——就像與張岱同時(shí)代的文震亨在《長(zhǎng)物志》中所說(shuō)的：“照壁，用金漆，或竟用素染?！本拖?00 年后常玉先生喃喃的：“我先畫(huà)，然后再簡(jiǎn)化它，再簡(jiǎn)化它……”就像19 世紀(jì)80 年代馮紀(jì)忠先生留下的松江方塔園臨湖立面，一線橫絕，超凡入妙。

400 年前，天平山下的張宗子仿佛懷抱著審美的青春初悟，惆悵低回，行走在空間體驗(yàn)的長(zhǎng)路，向?yàn)囦偬帉どn古，向橫逸處求縱拔，于極簡(jiǎn)處得繽紛。青春爛漫，萬(wàn)般體味，暮年顛沛，一念歸純。

從那時(shí)至今，整個(gè)民族的空間審美，仿佛也伴隨著后半生命運(yùn)坎坷的張宗子，仆仆于文化復(fù)興的長(zhǎng)路，時(shí)出西泠印社衡門(mén)，時(shí)入方塔園塹道，時(shí)向象山校園。但更多時(shí)刻，則是沉溺于鶯聲燕語(yǔ)、紅裳翠蓋、陳家祠中、獅子林下，恨不能回歸于400年前的天平山道、宛轉(zhuǎn)橋頭。

In June of 1622 (Year Two of Tianqi Emperor of Ming Dynasty), the summer sun was not yet blazing. On an afternoon simmered in the cool mountain breeze, along the trail of Tianping Mountain, whose forest and valley are the most beautiful among the peaks to the southwest of Suzhou, came the well-groomed Zhang Zongzi (also known as Zhang Dai), who was at the prime of his life.

Among the looming mountains and under the lush forest’s shadow, what leapt into his eyes was a luminously clear and pellucid lake, fed by the converging creeks flowing from the foot of the mountain. Endless embankment and bridges were winding through the foothills, which indicated deliberate yet unremarkable dredging and interventions. Meanwhile, the wild reeds, overflowing clear ripples, and the rocks and earthy shores of various postures quietly reflected the colours of the mountains, bringing one from the artificial back to nature. At that moment of encounter, Zhang Zongzi, who were once young and frivolous, who led a wandering life, and was contemptuous about the artificial scenery of his hometown, Lanting of Shaoxing, could not help but standstill. He tidied up his clothes subconsciously, took a deep breath, and moved forward sternly, stepping on the lush and vigorous Wanzhuan Bridge (Winding Bridge) that divided the water and ran across the mountains.

Would Zhang Dai on the Wanzhuan Bridge instantly have regained his ‘frivolous old manner’?

At times, he looked back in the pond at the picturesque reflection, of the long embankment across the lake; or bowed his head and walked on tiptoes, peeping at the flows of water and fish mindlessly passing by the cracks between the slender and thick granite beams underfoot; or leaned over and held out his hands, trying his best to reach over the low and rugged wooden railings piercing through stone pillars, childishly sniffing the fragrance of the sprouting lotuses in the pond; or looked up to the peak of Tianping Mountain with wild stones shooting up like sceptres. As time passed quietly, at the other end of the bridge after a square turn, the small and low garden gate was smeared with a ray of the peaceful setting sunshine. Inside the garden gate, it was the villa of Fan Changbai, a jinshi (metropolitan graduate) of the same year as his grandfather.

Decades later, Zhang Dai, already an older man, recalled with delight in his book Tao’an Mengyi:

Outside the garden, there was a long embankment. Peach trees, willows, and the zig-zag bridge were adorning around and across the lake. The bridge reached the garden at the end. The gate of the garden was purposely made low and small. As one entered the gate, there was a long corridor that led directly to the foothills. The pavilions decorated with paintings and curtains, secret rooms, and winding space, were all designed to create hideaways.

What he plainly described was indeed the whimsical space in the renowned mountain gardens of his time, where vertical and horizontal spaces were integrated, pure yet diverse, highly restraint yet full of tension. In the Spring of 1638 (Year 11 of Chongzhen Emperor), Zhang Dai, who was in his forties, explored Tiantong Temple in Ningbo Prefecture with his friends. The Buddhist temple ‘nestled among the green hills at the end of a 20-li long path flanked by pine trees’. They walked through the long path with pine trees and across the checkered paddy fields, then passing the clear and quiet Outer Wangong Pond, and were suddenly confronted by the magnificent Buddha-land under the towering Taibai Mountain. Its rippled reflection in the bright Inner Wangong Pond expressed a sense of ease. However, he only later described it with fairly simple words—‘At the temple gate, we saw the green and pure Wangong Pond, which was clear like a mirror’—before moving on to describing the monks. Perhaps even the magnificent view of the temple could not compare to the astonishment felt by a young racing heart. Even the grandest architecture could not compare to the adolescent experience among the green mountains and wild ponds, where spaces were layered meticulously yet seamlessly, and where one could experience the aesthetics of high-art, the elegant sense of space, and the glory of the era crystalised over several civilisations’ most remarkable achievements.

The moon wanes after it waxes, so do humans.

While lingering on Wanzhuan Bridge, Zhang Dai could not have anticipated that this wonderful, traceless, and seemingly endless beauty would be disrupted short after. Only 23 years later in 1645 (Year One of Hongguang Emperor of Southern Ming Dynasty), the Mandarin troops invading the south had crushed the subtle sentiments at Tianping Mountain, and the civilisation and artistic attainments in the vast land of Jiangnan. Fortunately, Zhang Dai’s almost a century’s long life and the displacement in his later years gave him enough time and distinctive experience to reminisce over the beautiful scene and lotus fragrance at Wanzhuan Bridge, just like Zhu Shunshui, who had to wander alone at the Yuanyue Bridge (Full Moon Bridge) of Korakuen in Tokyo in the evening of his life.

About 300 years later, in a similar era, another succeeding talent, Tong Jun, amidst the hazy mists and waves on his way back from the foreign land, and the brewing storm that was the Sino-Japanese War, walked through the long and narrow streets of Yingchun Fang (Spring Welcoming Neighbourhood) in Suzhou and the twists and turns of Feng-Zhi Guild and entered the side gate of Zhuozheng Garden (the Humble Administrator’s Garden), which was overgrown with the glory of nature. He wrote affectionately, ‘Nowadays, although foxes and rats wander through the houses and the roads are covered by moss, the mounts and ponds reclaimed by nature and the faded and exfoliated paintings on the buildings bring unexpected charm…’ in Gazetteer of Jiangnan Gardens. The renowned 400-year-old garden, harbouring the lush mounts and islands, the clear waves of the reed pond, the intricate crossing bridges and corridors, and the far-reaching embankments, expressed a sense of distant and pure solemnity in the unpredictable troubled times.

At that moment, it was as if Tong Jun were walking on the path of Tianping Mountain, entering Changbai Garden, and meeting with Zhang Zongzi’s soul from 300 years ago.

Perhaps from the Wanzhuan Bridge, through the low and long embankment of the luminous lake, the low wall, the zig-zag bridge, to the deeply-hidden painted towers and curtained pavilions, the winding corridors and secluded courtyards, the thousands of expressions across space, the pure strength and sharpness, were all to serve as a contrast to the towering lone green peak, creating an illusion of ‘tens of thousands of sceptres’ pointing towards heaven.

Perhaps only at the Wanzhuan Bridge, where peach trees and willows masked and cast their shadows on the long straight embankment, the thick walls were obliquely illuminated by the setting sun, and the outstretched mountains and distant trees traversed the backdrop of the endless willow bank and reed pond, illustrating a scene with ease and strength, infinite solemnity and greatness contained in purity and introversion, could the seemingly primaeval majestic power of the ‘thousands of sceptres pointing towards heaven’ at the top of Tianping Mountain be matched, giving rise to the glorious chapter of a famous foothill garden.

Perhaps only those who could be at ease laying low could leap high, those who could strengthen up when needed know how to relax, and those who could be pure could blossom. Perhaps only by relying on the high aesthetics and confidence of the times, could one lift the heavy with ease, deconstruct before synthesise, and use low and plain houses with small volumes in complex and layered and pure horizontal lines to serve as a contrast to the height and steepness of the mountain, reflected in the shines of the waves. The more majestic the mountain is, the quieter the rooms become; the plainer the walls are, the redder the maple leaves appear. Focusing on the overall contour, limiting the carvings and decorations, moving the brush against the tip, and making it simpler yet more sophisticated–just as Wen Zhenheng, a contemporary of Zhang Dai, said in Changwuzhi, ‘The screen should be finished with a transparent coating to showcase the timber material, but can occasionally be adorned with golden lacquer.’ Like what Chang Yu murmured 300 years later, ‘I draw first, then simplify it, and then simplify it again…’ Like the lake-facing side of the Fangta Garden (Square-Pagoda Garden) in Songjiang designed by Feng Jizhong in the 1980s, one single long and horizontal line was used to reach excellence and perfection.

400 years ago, Zhang Zongzi, who was at the foothill of Tianping Mountain, seemed to have grasped the first insight of aesthetics in his youth. Feeling melancholy, he experienced the space in his long stroll, looking for history in the glittering waves, seeking the high and upright among the low and humble, and searching for vibrancy in the minimalist. He experienced various adventures in his glorious youth, while the homelessness at the dusk of his life brought him back to a sense of purity.

Since then, the spatial aesthetics of the entire nation seems to have followed Zhang Zongzi, who experienced the turbulence of life in his later years and treading on the long way of a cultural renaissance. At times, it wanders between the Hengmen Gate of Xiling Seal Society’s Garden, the trench of the Square Pagoda Garden, and the Xiangshan Campus of China Academy of Art. More often, however, it is trapped in the extravagant decorations seen in the Chen Family’s Assembly Hall and the Lion Grove Garden, wishing only to return to the trail of Tianping Mountain and the Wanzhuan Bridge from 400 years ago.

至今仍靜臥于姑蘇城西南天平山麓的明末范長(zhǎng)白園（清中葉稱高義園）舊址，或許是現(xiàn)存最美的山麓建筑群之一。其蒼然橫掠的山脊、一汪如鑒的平湖、西側(cè)芳草逶迤的長(zhǎng)堤和東側(cè)凌波勁跨的橫橋，或許都與400 年前張宗子踏訪過(guò)的那個(gè)悠長(zhǎng)午后并無(wú)二致。中央低平橫展的建筑群，粉墻一帶，重門(mén)深鎖，也仿佛范長(zhǎng)白園的傳神再現(xiàn)。山風(fēng)輕拂，畫(huà)意舒卷間，舊時(shí)主人仿佛仍會(huì)應(yīng)門(mén)而出——一晃已是400 年。

The former site of Fan Changbai Garden from the late Ming Dynasty (also called Gaoyi Garden in the mid-Qing Dynasty), which still lies to the southwest of Suzhou at the foothill of Tianping Mountain, is perhaps one of the most beautiful existing foothill architectural complexes. Its sweeping and lush mountain ridges, the placid lake as clear as a mirror, the long grassy embankment on the west side, and the bridge flying over the waves on the east side, may all remain the same since Zhang Zongzi’s on that long afternoon 400 years ago. Today, the low and spread-out group of buildings in the centre, the whitewashed walls, and the multiple impassable doors, also resemble a vivid reproduction of Fan Changbai Garden. As if in the gentle mountain breeze and the picturesque scenery of the garden, the old master would answer the door at any moment, even though 400 years have passed in a flash.

每逢霜風(fēng)時(shí)節(jié)，舊日主人范允臨（號(hào)長(zhǎng)白）從福建泉州攜來(lái)、栽植于天平山下的百余株楓香總會(huì)引領(lǐng)滿山霜葉飛丹流霞，溢彩生光，映照黃墻素壁、碧水長(zhǎng)橋，為山的蒼勁、園的恬淡賦予斑斕張力，與歲彌新。

馮紀(jì)忠先生創(chuàng)作于20 世紀(jì)80 年代初的松江方塔園，亦是利用駁岸、綠植、長(zhǎng)墻構(gòu)成層疊勁利、綿亙不斷的水平線條，映襯一塔的奮然孤起，獲得飽滿的張力與現(xiàn)代性。只需易塔為山，景象結(jié)構(gòu)正與范長(zhǎng)白園舊址前后相應(yīng)。

Every frosty season, over 100 maple trees, brought and planted at the foot of Tianping Mountain by the old master Fan Yunlin (literary name Changbai) from Quanzhou, Fujian Province, paint the mountain with vibrant colours as the bright red maple leaves fly by and shine upon the bare walls, the green water and the long bridge, giving the vigour of the mountain and the tranquillity of the garden a colourful force year after year.

The Fangta Garden (Square-Pagoda Garden) in Songjiang, designed by Feng Jizhong in the early 1980s, also uses embankments, greeneries, and long walls to form layered, vigorous, and continuous horizontal lines, contrasting the singular vertical line of the pagoda, full of tension and sense of modernity. If we were to replace the pagoda with the mountain, the structure of the scenery would indeed resemble that of the site of Fan Changbai Garden.

宛轉(zhuǎn)橋的列石橫波、方角勁折，施用于城市地或覺(jué)突兀，施用于爛漫的山麓野塘，則如天籟橫吹，信筆涂抹。自身材質(zhì)語(yǔ)言與線條語(yǔ)言的粗獷有力，和周遭土岸石堤的逶迤不羈一樣飽含自然張力，亦能與隔岸秀雅的接駕亭形成美妙對(duì)話，令人顧盼神飛，愛(ài)不忍釋。

The rough stones, racing waves, and the twist and turns of the Wanzhuan Bridge might be abrupt if placed in an urban environment, yet set among the glorious wild pond at the foothill of a mountain, they possess the flair of heavenly music or one’s confident calligraphic strokes. The rugged and powerful language of their materials and contours is as full of natural tension as the surrounding unrestrained muddy banks and stone embankments. They also converse with the elegant Jiejia Pavilion (Welcoming Pavilion) across the pond, a scenery that brings up one’s spirit and makes it hard to turn away.

宛轉(zhuǎn)橋的每一石條均減小寬度、刻意“修長(zhǎng)”，以存速度感與方向感；同時(shí)加大厚度、刻意“質(zhì)厚”，以存空間力感。且均留出向下一面不作鑿平，其余各面亦加工適度，以保持自然山巖般的磅礴勢(shì)能。其“建構(gòu)”縝密有力而石縫參差，天趣盎然。兩側(cè)低伏的石穿木勾欄，亦于流暢的速度與力度間傳遞出絲絲溫情。

Each bridge stone of the Wanzhuan Bridge has been reduced in width and deliberately made ‘slender’ to introduce a sense of speed and direction. Meanwhile, their thickness is deliberately increased to reserve a sense of spatial strength. Moreover, the bottom side of the stones is left unworked, and the other sides are also processed discreetly to retain the majestic energy of natural rocks. The rigorous and robust ‘tectonics’ accompanied by the irregular stones filled the scenery with natural charms. The low-hanging stone-pierced wooden balustrades on both sides convey warmth and tenderness among speed and strength.

天平山下野塘彌漫中橫亙數(shù)重的芳草土堤，本應(yīng)是宋明園林中的習(xí)見(jiàn)景象。清中葉起，名園多隨土敷石，滅絕土岸，生氣勃勃的自然地脈不得不屈從于匪夷所思的手法套路，近年的修繕與營(yíng)造中發(fā)展更甚。陳從周先生曾批評(píng)修繕后的拙政園“滿口金牙”。而天平山下的重重長(zhǎng)堤土岸，無(wú)盡芬芳，不只承載過(guò)張宗子高風(fēng)流連的腳步，也為園林史保存下了更近“高古”的手法印跡和鮮活姿態(tài)（堤頭偏于工細(xì)的宮扇門(mén)墻經(jīng)歷了近年的新構(gòu)）。

The wild pond at the foothill of Tianping Mountain, pierced by several grassy and soil embankments, would have been a familiar scene in the gardens of the Song and Ming dynasties. In the mid-Qing Dynasty, many famous gardens started to pave stones on the earthy ground as the earth banks went out of fashion. The vibrant natural ground had to surrender to the unthinkable techniques and routines, which became even worse in the recent restorations and reconstructions. Chen Congzhou once criticised the restored Zhuozheng Garden (Humble Administrator’s Garden) as ‘filled with golden teeth’. In this sense, the long embankments and the natural beauty at the foot of Tianping Mountain not only carry the footsteps of Zhang Zongzi’s lingers in the past, but also preserve the imprints of the more ‘a(chǎn)ncient’ technique and vivid posture in the history of classical gardens (the exquisite gate and walls at the beginning of the embankment are recent reconstructions).

北宋仁宗以來(lái)，天平山即成為高風(fēng)烈烈的范氏家族“墳山”——此甬路即為自園前橫掠向左的神道，于咫尺高踞的翻經(jīng)臺(tái)下神態(tài)自若地凌波而過(guò)，令高臺(tái)如巉巖入水，一徑如秀堤分湖，將神性儀式與詩(shī)性景象融為一體，應(yīng)是400 年前的原狀。堤中平橋兩座，拿捏精當(dāng)。

山下重重野塘間浮現(xiàn)方形石臺(tái)與棧橋一曲，建構(gòu)簡(jiǎn)潔，轉(zhuǎn)折方勁而微微出水，仿佛玉簟浮空、隨波漫溢，與宛轉(zhuǎn)橋的豪氣橫秋恰成鮮明對(duì)比，而又手法暗通。令人想見(jiàn)空山寂寂、野塘無(wú)人時(shí)的對(duì)月孤影（瑣碎汀步系近年添加）。

Since the reign of Renzong in the Northern Song Dynasty, Tianping Mountain became the ‘cemetery mountain’ of the noble and righteous Fan family. This path was the divine passage in front of the garden that extended to the left, which gracefully passed by the Laiyan Pavilion (Swallow-Coming Pavilion) and Fanjing Platform towering above. The looming pavilion was like a cliff shooting from the water while the path a beautiful embankment separating the lake. This integration of divine rituals and poetic scenes would have been its initial state in the late Ming Dynasty 400 years ago. The two flat bridges in the middle of the embankment also represented the perfect proportion.

A square stone platform and a bridge emerge among the numerous wild ponds at the foot of the mountain. The structure of the bridge is simple, its turn square and sudden, standing slightly above the water surface as if a bamboo mat floating in the air and drifting with the waves. It appears in sharp contrast with the power of the Wanzhuan Bridge, except that the techniques are secretly connected. Recalling the image of a solitary soul facing the moon, standing alone by the wild ponds and the silent mountain (the scattered step stones in the pond were added in recent years).

園中今存掇山系就地取石，信手堆掇，興會(huì)淋漓，大工不雕，仿佛凝固了自山頭自然崩落而又“濺起”的剎那，飽含著渾樸而又磅礴的力量——相形之下，姑蘇城內(nèi)名園卻一味以太湖石摹仿喀斯特地貌，有時(shí)背棄自然邏輯而追求過(guò)度變化，任意起峰，無(wú)限穿鑿。無(wú)怪劉敦楨先生昔年過(guò)此曾加贊譽(yù)，張宗子到此，更當(dāng)浮一大白（山頭恩綸亭系近年重建）。

In the garden, the current rockery was piled up with local stones. The artist created it with such confidence and passion that he was able to express mastery without elaborate carving as if he had solidified the moment of a natural rock collapsing from and mountain and ‘splashing’ on the ground, full of unadorned and majestic power. In contrast, the famous gardens in Suzhou City blindly used Taihu stones to imitate the Karst landscape, to the point of betraying the logic of nature and pursuing excessive changes, with peaks rising arbitrarily and endless gouging. It is no wonder that Liu Dunzhen once praised the garden during his visit, and when Zhang Zongzi was here, he should have celebrated by drinking a full cup of wine. (The Enlun Pavilion on the mountain is a recent reconstruction.)

園東北側(cè)有桃花澗，與范氏墓道穿插并行于高林間，匯注為橋堤縱橫的園池（今稱十景塘），再層疊漫溢而下，形成波光清漾、生氣勃勃的陂塘水系。澗中有大石橫亙中流，蒼然如畫(huà)，形成全園水口，顯系在自然地形上稍稍加工而成。石畔的淺灘“闘（斗）鴨步”仿佛無(wú)錫寄暢園“鶴步灘”——都是遵循自然邏輯、舉重若輕、渾若天成的理景妙筆。

The Taohua (Peach Blossoms) Stream was on the northeast side of the garden, parallel to the Fan family tombs’ divine path among tall woods. The stream flows into the pond of the garden (today’s Shijing Pond), crisscrossed by bridges and embankments, then flows down tiers of steps to form a wavy and vibrant series of ponds. There is a bulky rock in the middle of the stream, rough and picturesque, acting as the water gate of the garden, obviously a slight manoeuvre based on the natural terrain. Douyabu, the shallow beach near the rock, is similar to the Hebutan in Jichang Garden of Wuxi, both of which are brilliant landscape designs that resemble nature, follow the natural logic and lift the heavy with ease.

園西側(cè)草創(chuàng)于唐代的白云古剎原為附著于范氏墓地的功德寺院，大殿內(nèi)至今猶存北宋范仲淹時(shí)代的青石覆蓮柱礎(chǔ)，清中葉逸士沈三白來(lái)探訪時(shí)卻遭遇俗僧。民國(guó)年間于殿前添建的二門(mén)素樸簡(jiǎn)潔，飽含山寺氣息。雖近年的修繕潤(rùn)飾過(guò)度，但黃墻一抹，字碑一橫，仍能灑然映照千秋山林。

清乾隆前期于明末范長(zhǎng)白園基礎(chǔ)上修繕改建之高義園隨坡疊起，至第四進(jìn)逍遙亭下刻意收束空間，幽邃如巖洞，穿洞拾級(jí)而上，一回顧則有亭翼然，挑臨深院，是山莊“宏大”敘事格局中的收束輕靈之筆。

The ancient Baiyun Temple to the west of the garden was founded in the Tang Dynasty as a family temple attached to the Fan family’s cemetery. Bluestone lotus column bases from Fan Zhongyan’s times of the Northern Song Dynasty still remain in the main hall. In the mid-Qing Dynasty, a free-spirit scholar, Shen Sanbai, came to visit but encountered a vulgar monk. The second gate built in front of the hall during the Republic of China era is neat and simple, full of the atmosphere of a mountain temple. Although interventions in the recent restorations were excessive, its yellow walls and stone stele still harmonise with the eternal mountain and forests.

Gaoyi Garden, renovated and rebuilt in the early Qianlong period of the Qing Dynasty upon the previous site of the Fan Changbai Garden of the late Ming Dynasty, rose along the tiered slope. The space at Xiaoyao Pavilion in the fourth courtyard was deliberately compressed. The space deepened like a rock cave. As one climbed through the cave and looked back, a pavilion appeared, its eaves overhanging a deep courtyard—a delicate closing stroke of the villa’s ‘grand’ narrative.

高義園軸線南部尚有高義園坊與接駕亭。后者于近年重建后謙抑橫舒，檐口低亞，不起屋脊，由始建時(shí)的堂皇作態(tài)而回歸風(fēng)土，與亭前從容橫展、雜樹(shù)橫生之緩坡慢道（疑為乾隆前期遺物）同有由人工而歸于自然之妙。

天平山門(mén)內(nèi)的更衣亭以長(zhǎng)六角形平面與亂石、山徑最大限度地共形共勢(shì)，盤(pán)桓欲發(fā)，直至凌空而起。其石柱凝立、石欄橫護(hù)，翼角勁飛，極盡山亭之妙，與一線天下之梭形亭均以異形平面結(jié)為力感體塊，融入巉巖亂石與自然地脈，非城市地園林中輕薄柔媚之小亭所能比擬，仿佛范長(zhǎng)白園手法氣質(zhì)的溢出。

At the south end of Gaoyi Garden’s axis are the Gaoyi Garden Archway and Jiejia Pavilion. The latter one is humble and relaxed after the recent reconstruction, with low cornices and no rising roof ridges. It was a return to the vernacular form from the stately manner in which it was initially built. It shares the same ingenuity of a return to nature from the artificial as the gentle slope (hypothetically a relic from the early Qianlong period), overgrown with trees and calmly stretching in front of the pavilion.

The Gengyi Pavilion inside the Tianping Mountain Gate has an elongated hexagonal plan, echoing the chaotic rocks and mountain trails to the maximum extent, fluttering as if they were about to blast off high into the air. The stone pillars standstill, while the stone balustrade guards around them. The roof curls up sharply at the corners, consummating the wonder of a mountain pavilion. Similar to the shuttle-shaped pavilion under a narrow strip of sky confined by the cliffs, the irregularly shaped plan forms a masculine mass, blending with the chaotic rocks and the natural geology as if the style and technique of the Fan Changbai Garden had overflown its boundary, to which the light and soft pavilions in urban gardens are incomparable.

蘇州留園西部土山上的至樂(lè)亭顯然仿自天平山更衣亭與梭形亭，但地形相對(duì)平緩，乏力無(wú)勢(shì)，不得不故作尖聳，致使檐口與舉折過(guò)高，親地性不足，更難以與山勢(shì)取得共振。

The Zhile Pavilion on the earth mount in the western part of the Liu Garden (Lingering Garden) in Suzhou is an imitation of the Gengyi Pavilion and the shuttle-shaped pavilion on Tianping Mountain, but the cornices and the raising of the roof are too high, and the terrain is weak, making it look artificial and pretentious.

天平山白云泉（缽盂泉）亦見(jiàn)于沈三白《浮生六記》，其剖竹引泉，橫出崖壁，注入缽盂，再次第溢出為“一泓清碧”的深潭，令自然泉流的匯注過(guò)程飽含轉(zhuǎn)折跌宕的畫(huà)意與雅趣，承繼著白居易廬山草堂以來(lái)的悠久理水傳統(tǒng)。自臨泉小軒可俯瞰范長(zhǎng)白園，空間依然一體。

The Baiyun Spring (Boyu Spring) of Tianping Mountain was also recorded in Shen Sanbai’s Fusheng Liuji. Split bamboos were used to guide the spring, flowing over the cliff into the ‘a(chǎn)lms bowl’. The water then overflows again into a deep ‘crystal green’ pond. The natural spring’s path is full of the twist and turns, bringing out the quaint and charm of the picturesque. It inherits the long tradition of water management originated from Bai Juyi’s Lushan Cottage. The Fan Changbai Garden can be overlooked from the small pavilion by the spring, and the space is a harmonious whole.

自更衣亭勉力登上一線天窄徑，回望巨石壁立間，有一方勁古塔孤起如畫(huà)，仿佛自山巖下的梭形亭騰躍而上——此段空間經(jīng)營(yíng)頗能體現(xiàn)蘇杭小尺度山水的自覺(jué)“文人化”之美，亦仿佛范長(zhǎng)白園之氣質(zhì)、力量源泉。該方形磚仿木樓閣式塔俗呼觀音塔，疑是明以前舊物。

Climbing up the narrow path under a narrow strip of sky confined by the cliffs from Gengyi Pavilion, and looking back at the enormous rock walls, one can see a robust ancient pagoda standing alone like a painting as if it were leaping up from the shuttle-shaped pavilion at the bottom of the mountain. The spatial arrangement of this section illustrates quite well the conscious ‘literati’ beauty of the small-scale landscapes of the Suzhou and Hangzhou areas. It also feels like the source of the Fan Changbai Garden’s temperament and power. This square brick pagoda, imitating the form of a timber tower, is commonly known as the ‘Guanyin Pagoda’, hypothetically a structure from before the Ming Dynasty.