Unwilling to Fall Behind

Meanwhile, by the familiar stream.

"Sasuke, you can choose whatever you want. His training is too dark. Even though I saw you grow incredibly strong, the danger and pain of that training must be immense."

Yi Xiang spoke to Sasuke in a low voice. He had told him everything about his future encounter with Orochimaru and what happened after he left Konoha.

People often only gradually come to understand certain truths and gain experience after living through things. I, on the other hand, was used to finding insight amid nature's mountains and streams. Surrounded by beautiful scenery, my heart grew especially calm. I forgot the clamor of the world, set aside every burden and responsibility, and held nothing in my heart but the lovely view before me: clear waters, green hills, birdsong, and fragrant flowers.

Fallen Blossoms · Selfless Devotion

A breeze passed, and countless peach blossoms drifted quietly from the branches, dancing with the wind. Anyone who saw them could only sigh: "This dance belongs in heaven. How often can we witness it here on earth?" Yet even the loveliest sight lasted only a moment. The wind stopped, the blossoms fell, and only a carpet of red remained.

There was no stopping the flowers from falling; the beautiful moment had passed. I had once felt sad at the sight of falling blossoms, just like Lin Daiyu in Dream of the Red Chamber. But when I saw all the fallen petals lying quietly near the roots of the trees, I suddenly remembered Li Yishan's poem: "Fallen blossoms are not heartless things; they turn to spring mud to protect the flowers." That's right. Who says fallen blossoms aren't beautiful? They have only left the world of mortals to nourish the very earth that once sustained them! If fallen blossoms can do that, what about us? Can we be as selfless and noble as they are? Perhaps the answer is no. Still, I think we should learn to think of others and contribute even a little of our strength to society. No matter how small, that little bit can mean a great deal to many people.

Flowing Water · Cherish Time

The mountain path wound upward. As the saying goes, "A winding path leads to a secluded spot." Raising my eyes, I saw a tinkling stream flowing eastward. It flowed on and on. Had anyone ever seen it stop, even for a moment? "A hundred rivers flow east to the sea; when will they ever return west?" Flowing water never comes back, just as time slips away from us bit by bit. It takes our youth silently, without a sound. Time flies, and before we know it, we have changed enormously, yet neither you nor I have ever noticed...

The years spare no one. We must cherish our time and make the most of every minute and second we have now. We mustn't let time slip away for nothing, only to sigh in the end: "Youth flows like water and never returns." Now, we should strive to improve and study hard. We shouldn't keep putting things off until tomorrow. After all, "Tomorrow upon tomorrow—how many tomorrows are there?" So from this moment on, let's cherish our time, seize the present, and make our future!

Green Bamboo · Unyielding

Beside the clear stream, several stalks of green bamboo stood proudly. Their verdant color was a pleasure to behold. Since ancient times, countless writers and poets had written verses in their honor, and countless people had adored them... Someone once asked me, "What makes bamboo so captivating? It's not even especially beautiful. How can it compare with gorgeous flowers like peonies and roses?" I could only smile. How could you appreciate bamboo's charm by looking only at its appearance? What makes bamboo so admirable and captivating isn't its looks, but its unyielding nature and proud stance!

"Though battered by a thousand blows, it remains steadfast, letting the winds come from every direction." Whether facing storms, heavy rain, or blazing sun, bamboo never gave in. How could anyone not admire such a stalwart spirit? And bamboo was not merely unyielding. It had the chrysanthemum's calm simplicity, earning it the name "hermit among flowers," as well as the plum blossom's strength and perseverance, making it a "gentleman among flowers."

Admire bamboo, and you'll learn many things from it—things we need to learn.

In my close encounters with nature, I forgot everything, yet came to appreciate nature's beauty and understand lessons that would benefit me for the rest of my life.

I was a grain of sand, drifting across the earth with the wind. The waves of time gently beat against me as I wandered from here to there, leaving no trace.

I once met a bird. He beat his broad wings, beautiful beyond compare. His feathers fluttered through the air and carried me up. I nestled lightly against his back. There was a warmth there that could melt me all over in an instant. The wind told me, "He never sings."

I crawled up to look at his beak. Its graceful curve parted the air, and it was nearly perfect. I asked him, "Where are you going?" He answered, "To the place where I must sing." I pressed my face against his beak. It held the same warmth, enough to scorch the air.

I saw him perch on a branch, the setting sun casting an orange glow over him. Then he sprang into the air, making the branch sway behind him in the wind. He shot forward, his beak slicing through the dry air like a blade, while his beautiful wings remained tightly folded. At last, I saw him plunge into a thicket of thorns. They closed around his body in an instant. A red liquid surged from every wound, staining his beautiful feathers. Its heat seemed to set the sunset light upon the thorns ablaze. Then his beautiful beak slowly opened, and from it burst music of unbearable beauty, thundering through the empty valley and shaking the heavens.

The wind said, "Silent until the moment he sings, then he astonishes the world."

I said, "But he pays with his life."

The wind said, "He suffers greatly."

I said, "But he is beautiful!"

The wind carried me onward. I flew over fields and mountain hollows, sometimes stopping to rest beside a stream. I went where the wind took me. When it blew, I danced.

I heard singing from the mountain, low and powerful. The singers chanted, "Our nation has fallen, and we have no home. We gather bracken deep in the mountains, but where can we find a home?" They wore coarse clothes and carried bundles of firewood as they walked along the rugged mountain paths. Streams of tears ran down their faces, and their voices gradually grew hoarse. At last, they strained their throats, their voices breaking in the wind.

"Our nation has fallen, and we have no home. We gather bracken deep in the mountains, but where can we find a home?" Their song mingled with the wind and drifted toward the heavens. The wind said, "Shu Qi and Bo Yi gather bracken, exhausted in body and spirit."

The next day, I watched morning dew slip from the tips of leaves. The faint light of dawn fell on the lifeless faces of Bo Yi and Shu Qi. Two streams of water still streaked their cheeks.

The bird still perched in the treetops, singing. The leaves rustled, and dew fell all around.

I said, "How beautiful!"

The wind said, "But they paid with their lives, abandoned in the wilderness."

I drifted on, carried by the wind. Autumn drew near, and the leaves turned yellow. The wind whistled, and the leaves fell, spinning and dancing in the air before quietly merging into the earth without a sound.

I said, "Fallen, ground to dust and turned to mud."

The wind said nothing.

I said to the wind, "Put me down!"

I stayed with my companions as the fallen leaves around us slowly dissolved into the earth with a faint crackling sound. It was a painful process of merging.

I thought of Thorn Bird's final song, so mournful and beautiful!

A river clam asked us, "Which of you would like to come with me?"

I saw my companions shake their heads.

I said to him, "I'll go."

"Do you know it will hurt to the bone and be unbearable?"

"I know, but I need the beauty that comes after the pain even more."

I jumped into the river clam, sunlight falling across my tiny face.

A few days ago, I snapped one of the strings on my folk guitar.

I could still remember how I'd looked at the time: as if the sky had fallen. I stared blankly, mouth agape, at the dying guitar string for a long while. Then, at last, two words came out of my mouth: "It's... broken?!" Stop! Anyone who's played folk guitar would think I was making a huge fuss over nothing—not just making a fuss, but acting like I'd lost my mind. That's right, guitar strings snapped all the time when you were learning folk guitar. Fixing it was easy, too: just go to a music shop or a guitar studio and replace the string.

But I was different! My guitar journey had gone like this: I started out taking lessons in a guitar class, but eventually the fees got too expensive, so I decided to teach myself. At this point, you're probably thinking, "Why not just go back to the guitar class and have them replace it?" I can only say that was exactly why I was so surprised!

Go back to the place where I used to learn guitar and get the string replaced? That seemed so awkward, and I couldn't accept the idea. I couldn't imagine what it would be like to see my guitar teacher. How embarrassing would that be? In the end, Mom laid down the law: "If you want to keep learning, go there and get it fixed. If you won't, then quit!" Oh my god, she was practically trying to kill me! Why was I the only free person in the family, with time on Saturdays and Sundays to go replace a string? With no other choice, I asked my friend to come with me to that hellhole and get the guitar string replaced. Truthfully, I was being a little pessimistic. It shouldn't be so difficult or as awkward as I imagined—but what could I do? My family had always been like this. It was ingrained in me. Even more frustrating, my friend had never learned guitar, but she didn't dare replace the string for me by herself, either. So we were left with the last, and best, option: go together! At last we reached the entrance. The words "XX Guitar Training Class" stood on the sign outside.

Sigh. Was I coming back here because I had no choice, rather than out of a desire to learn? "Why don't you carry the guitar and talk to the teacher?" I knew I was making a desperate last stand. "Don't be silly. If I carry your guitar, he'll still know who you are." "It's fine. We're not doing anything shady. Don't be scared." "If you really care about me, just go in and get it fixed for me, then come back out." I knew she wouldn't agree. The truth was, she was even shyer than I was, and before we came, she'd told me over and over that she was only there to accompany me. So after saying that, I finally walked into the classroom with my head held high. The teacher who used to teach me was giving lessons to some unfamiliar faces. When he saw me, he looked surprised. Before he could say a word, I hurriedly explained, "I'm here to get my guitar string replaced." I looked over at my friend, only to find she'd already hidden far away. "Oh." He didn't say another word. Once the string was replaced, he only said, "Five yuan." I paid, and without another word, he went straight back to teaching guitar. But judging by the look of him, he must have recognized me. I ran out of that awful place. Although I'd achieved my goal and could finally play my old guitar again, I still felt embarrassed whenever I thought of that scene. Was I taking this too seriously? It really wasn't a big deal, was it? I felt strangely empty. When I got home and played the guitar, I couldn't concentrate. What was wrong with me? Still, this whole experience had ended without any real trouble!

I hope I can forget about this soon.