Suddenly, I want to write something for you.
Given our relationship, I believe you wouldn't mind a few words like "see this as if it were me". Therefore, I will naturally skip the fixed routine of such beginnings and endings.
Humans are truly strange creatures. We don't appreciate what we have and are unwilling to let go of what we are about to lose. For the sake of some inexplicable face or emotion, we inevitably do things that we will later regret, and in the future, we sigh and repeat the same mistakes.
Today, I had a sudden idea to write some words to you. It's probably because I have similar things hidden in my heart that need an outlet. However, if you want to ask for details, I have nothing to say. The thoughts behind it are not difficult to understand, but if I were to express my true feelings here, I would undoubtedly be mocked by you when we meet tomorrow. Knowing your personality, this is a foregone conclusion, and I have never harbored any illusions about it.
What? It wouldn't be interesting if I didn't say anything? Hey, hey, calm down. Everything in the world exists for survival and reproduction. In my opinion, it's common not to be able to laugh. Don't treat the treasures you accidentally obtain as ordinary. Such wasteful behavior will surely be met with consequences.
It seems like I've digressed... but it doesn't matter. Today, I have no other plans, and the road ahead is long enough that even if I talk until I'm exhausted, I probably won't reach the end.
Speaking of the road, although I have always complained about the reckless driving of various vehicles on the sidewalk, I myself am not walking calmly on the brick roads on both sides. Instead, I am walking slowly on the asphalt road in the middle in a zigzag pattern. On one hand, the signs on both sides clearly prohibit motor vehicles and non-motor vehicles, and there are few pedestrians, let alone cars. On the other hand, the brick road is not easy to walk on.
You should remember that when snow mixes with water and fills the gaps, it becomes very slippery. For me, it feels like it's been a long time since I've experienced this situation, but I don't think I will ever forget the scene of taking small, careful steps forward. I think you and I are probably similar in this regard.
Of course, it doesn't snow here now, so this situation doesn't exist. But actually, let me tell you, if the moss fills the gaps between the bricks, it will be even more uncomfortable to walk on. You know me, I have poor balance and a lack of coordination. Mountain roads are already rugged, with slopes one after another. Stepping on the slippery lichen really gives my heart a "thump" feeling, as if I will lose my balance in the next second and slide back down the path I came from.
Yes, these lowly creatures thrive in the abundant moisture and humid environment, multiplying and moving through the stone walls, the ground, the tree bark, the visible and invisible places, smearing countless green patterns with their bodies. This green is full of vitality and emits a sparkling light. Faced with these crawling lives that are constantly moving on the plane, even tall trees and lush bamboo forests lose their colors and pale in comparison.
I think, even you, no matter how unhappy you are, would never hurt these small lives, right?
I continue to walk slowly in the middle of the road. It is cloudy at the moment, with large clouds squeezing together in the sky, and the mist is not content to be ordinary, adding to the scene. I don't have to worry about the scorching sun. The road is undulating but flat and clean, with no forks, so I don't have to worry about directions—I just need to step with my right foot, then my left foot, and repeat.
I feel like my legs no longer belong to me. They are like parts with pre-set programs, running alone according to established rules. I feel that my body is no longer tired because it has released its constraints on the soul, allowing my thoughts to soar higher and higher until I can no longer taste the physical fatigue.
The mountain wind blows, cool and refreshing. It spins around, blowing away the stuffiness and dampness under my hair, and knocking off a drop of sweat hanging between my eyebrows. The drop falls, hitting my glasses, smudging my vision, and seeping into my mind, creating a small puddle of water in front of my eyes.
It feels like I have returned to the small mountain village where my grandparents quarreled for a lifetime. I still remember the scene of that summer vacation when my father patted me on the back and suddenly asked, "Since you get motion sickness, how about we walk to the town and take the bus?" I will always remember the scene of the two of us walking on the asphalt road. Although it is not wide, the road is flat and clean. The trees on both sides are tall in my eyes, and under the shade of the trees, we walk slowly in the direction of the sun. I don't have to worry about directions and time, just need to step with my right foot, then my left foot, and repeat.
I continue to walk without stopping, as if I have returned to that moment in the past. The wind gently brushes past, driving away the heat. The sunlight fills my vision, making everything in front of me bright and radiant.
I wipe my face and glasses with a tissue and realize that without realizing it, the sun has torn through the clouds, spreading more energy, bringing light and warmth. Since I didn't bring an umbrella on a whim, I decide to leave the main road and step on the stone steps in the mountains, heading towards the mountaintop.
The vegetation is lush, reaching up to my ankles. The trees are tall, and from branches that I can't reach, several unfamiliar vines hang, swaying with the rhythm of the wind. Insects and birds hide in the woods, occasionally buzzing, playing a lonely tune in the quiet forest.
The branches and leaves are dense, and when I look into the distance, I can only see the faint gray-white stone steps gradually disappearing, leading to an unknown place. I suddenly feel like I am standing in front of a green giant with its mouth wide open, waiting for me to fall into its trap.
Entering the forest, the mist becomes denser, and there is a slightly stimulating smell in the air. I try to sniff it, and it feels a bit like being in a public bath in the north. But I can't be sure, after all, it's been a while, long enough for the experiences engraved in the past twenty years to be diluted and smoothed out. Long enough that when I try to uncover the deepest memories and take another look at my most precious things, I find that they have already sublimated and disappeared, leaving no trace, which is both sad and powerless.
I have walked quite far and feel a bit tired. I was thinking of taking a break in a few minutes when I suddenly realized that the road paved with steps has come to an end. Ahead, there are still towering trees, and between the gaps in their trunks, I can see a hidden cluster of buildings in the mist. Next to it are several huge rocks, blocking any further progress—just like reading a novel, flipping through the pages with excitement, only to find the back cover, absurdity tinged with regret.
But it's just as well. I can sit down and continue to write a few paragraphs to you, so that I don't forget certain details later.
Since I'm not particularly interested at the moment, let's talk about some slightly disappointing things.
You once hoped that I wouldn't become like you, and I have been trying, but it's a bit difficult. Life is full of distractions, and the monotony between the dots and lines is mixed with unpredictable surprises and accidents, filling up the entire daily life.
Human thoughts are too complex and impure. Faced with the same situation and content, just because of the vibration of a certain particle, completely different and even contradictory conclusions can be drawn.
As I said before, "it's common not to be able to laugh." Being too demanding and forcing oneself to smile actually makes it less beautiful, don't you think?
At this moment, going out for a walk not only allows me to discuss the things you entrusted me with, but also contains a little anticipation for tomorrow.
People can always change, and they should change. Since you want it, I am willing to give it a try.
So, when we meet again in the near future, we can at least face each other with honesty and look forward to the possibility of the next letter.
The woods are noisy, and the words are few.
Waiting for the pure-hearted, and waiting for the autumn to be peaceful.
- August 2nd, Year Gui Mao