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墨書 Inktalez
Not long after the new semester began, a piece of news spread through the class: Teacher X was organizing a spring outing!
Spring outing? This was a fresh term for me. Throughout my years in elementary school, middle school, and now high school, I had never truly encountered it before. Of course, the meaning was easy to grasp; it simply referred to taking advantage of the warm spring weather to go out and have some fun. I had done plenty of that myself in the past, but this time it was a collective action involving dozens of classmates, which made it all the more exciting.
Although I hadn’t fully recovered from the disappointment of being reassigned to a new class, I still held the title of Study Committee Member. However, I had been somewhat indifferent to class affairs. But since this outing was about having fun, I eagerly got involved. Under Teacher X's guidance, the class committee quickly settled on a destination—Wugang Yunshan.
At that time, Yunshan wasn’t as famous as it would later become. Especially for those classmates who had never read a travel book, their understanding of it was limited to knowing it was located in Wugang County and about fifty or sixty miles away from Gaosha. Naturally, since it was named after a mountain, one could expect some scenic beauty and grandeur. However, as someone who grew up in a small mountain village and often went into the mountains to chop firewood, I didn’t have much interest in this “mountain” unless it meant spending a day relaxing.
With the destination set, the biggest question facing us was how to get there. Fifty or sixty miles is quite a distance; even for someone like me who runs mountain trails every day, walking wasn’t an option. Taking a bus would be impossible since there were too many people and too few vehicles available at that time from Gaosha to Wugang. Renting a vehicle would cost a lot of money and might not even be feasible. Eventually, we decided to find a truck. After some searching, Fu Xiaojin managed to "rent" a Liberation Truck through his father, who was the deputy factory director at Dongkou County Distillery (located in Gaosha).
Everything was ready when the day arrived. All the students jumped or climbed into the back of the truck while Teacher X took her seat next to the driver. The class monitor counted everyone and knocked on the back window of the cab. With Teacher X’s command, we set off.
With a loud roar, the truck surged forward. The students standing in the back instinctively reached out their hands—some grabbed onto the side panels while others held onto their classmates' clothes. Thankfully, inertia didn’t affect us too much; only two students at the back scraped their skin on the panels. We all leaned back together and soon started singing joyfully.
The truck slowly drove out of campus, passing along Gaosha Street until we reached Tiao Shui River. Suddenly, the sky turned gloomy as clouds covered the sun. After crossing Tai Ping Bridge, light rain began to fall. None of us had brought umbrellas, and there was no tarp over the truck bed. Teacher X asked the driver to pull over and came over to ask if we wanted to postpone our trip due to the rain. Looking at the misty sky with its gentle drizzle, everyone unanimously replied: Let’s go!
Indeed, spring rain isn’t heavy; its fine droplets felt poetic against our faces. It was rare for us to have such an opportunity to enjoy ourselves outdoors; no one wanted to turn back. However, as soon as we resumed our journey, the rain began to intensify. Within minutes, our hair became damp strands clinging together; coupled with March’s chilly breeze, several girls on board started shivering and hugged their shoulders tightly while tucking their heads down to minimize contact with raindrops.
At this moment, some boys took on their “chivalrous” duty; several strong classmates from rural backgrounds took off their jackets and held them above their heads like a patchwork canopy of blue and gray fabric to shield us from the rain while forming a circle for the girls to huddle inside.
About half an hour later, the rain stopped and we continued onward with laughter and songs filling the air.
After another hour or so of driving, we turned onto a narrow gravel road that was somewhat muddy. Excitedly, those of us who grew up in mountainous areas informed everyone: This is the road into the mountains! Yunshan is just ahead!
As if mocking our limited understanding, we continued along flat gravel roads for another ten minutes without any sign of climbing until finally rolling hills appeared before us—layered from low to high—inviting us for closer inspection.
The gravel road began winding more sharply as our progress slowed down considerably. Even so, every few hundred meters brought another turn or incline; no matter how hard we tried to brace ourselves against the bumps and jolts of the truck ride, we could only sway back and forth with its movements. The girls were tightly protected in the center of the truck bed while extending small pale hands to grip their classmates’ arms firmly without letting go.
Just when everyone thought they couldn’t endure any more jostling from the truck’s bumps, we finally arrived at a clearing overgrown with weeds and dotted with puddles where Teacher X announced: This is Yunshan Forest Farm; vehicles can’t go any further from here—we’ll have to walk up.
Before Teacher X could finish speaking, sunlight broke through the clouds. Zhu Wenyao, Liu Xingjia, and I dashed out through an opening at one edge of the clearing along what looked like an indistinct path and quickly distanced ourselves from our classmates.
Pushing aside branches that occasionally brushed against our faces as we stepped on grass still glistening with raindrops, we three moved easily among trees. Small ditches appeared beside us with clear water barely an inch deep; many small stones retained their sharp edges within them while occasionally one or two fish about finger-width surfaced without fear at all when we shouted excitedly.
The scent of spring wasn’t very strong yet; clusters of wildflowers were nearly absent. Fortunately for us three boys who weren’t particularly fond of flowers—seeing nothing but green didn’t faze us like city kids would have been amazed by flowers blooming on streets. My naturally active spirit led me to jump up occasionally to swing from tree branches or climb smooth-barked trees with lush leaves above in search of where our platoon had gone.
As we ventured deeper into narrower and steeper paths—the highest peak nearby—our pace gradually slowed down compared to before since Yunshan stood tall above several surrounding counties unlike those small hills near home that we had explored thoroughly while chopping firewood.
Just as we prepared to pause for everyone else’s arrival behind us came heavy footsteps accompanied by panting sounds; turning around revealed a middle-aged man dressed in thin clothing wearing grayish-yellow Liberation shoes carrying a load of red bricks up steep rugged terrain effortlessly compared to how we struggled along paved roads.
Seeing someone else manage so easily spurred our competitive spirits as we hurriedly followed suit—climbing over each bend until reaching slightly flatter ground where two lower hills flanked either side with winding paths leading upward while ahead lay smoother stone paths obstructed by fallen logs where that man sat resting his load on his left side while fanning himself with his shirt’s edge on his right.
The three runners halted momentarily; I glanced back at where we’d come from but saw no sign of our classmates behind us anymore—losing interest in exploring further up either side—I suggested: “Since they’re still far behind anyway this stone path looks smooth enough—it must lead somewhere important; let’s take this route.”
Zhu Wenyao agreed first as he strode ahead confidently but after just walking several dozen meters downhill our pace slowed again while waiting for others hoping they’d catch up soon enough.
After walking forward for more than ten minutes houses came into view—a brick building resembling an elementary school classroom stood on our right; ahead lay a three-compartment temple marked by black characters reading “Yunshan Shengli Temple” on its wooden plaque while nearby stood over ten round-topped stone towers about one meter high beside which stood an upright stone tablet inscribed with “Zen Tower Forest”—said to be where monks were buried after passing away.
After wandering around inside feeling increasingly solemn amidst silence—the absence of other classmates became apparent again when Liu Xingjia suddenly suggested: “Let’s head back; if they don’t see us soon enough Teacher X might get angry.”
Upon returning towards that fork in paths two classmates rested atop fallen pine trees informing us that everyone else had taken another route upward but were resting due fatigue waiting for us now instead! Hearing this news prompted all three of us immediately turned around sprinting forward once more!
After running over one hundred meters we caught sight of our classmates’ backs—each one panting heavily either leaning against trees resting or propping themselves up using broken branches slowly inching forward while we three zipped past them overtaking one after another until spotting what appeared like bunkers atop nearby hilltops urging us onward even faster!
Running to the Bunker, I found a somewhat flat area scattered with bricks and more of the newly sprouted wild grass. I located a larger stone and sat on it, waiting for quite a while until dozens of classmates finally gathered around the flat ground near the Bunker. Some waved red flags, others cupped their hands into trumpet shapes and shouted loudly towards the valley below, while small groups of classmates either sat or stood, allowing Teacher X and two other students with cameras to take pictures. I attempted to climb up the Bunker to experience the feeling of "overlooking all the mountains," but couldn’t find a place to step, so I watched the wisps of white clouds drift by beneath me. A few clouds slowly rose in front of me, and when I reached out to catch one, it slipped away like time itself.
After the group photo, more clouds gathered at the mountain top. Experienced classmates said, "It's going to rain again," and I immediately took off running. Within minutes, I reached the fork in the path. Strangely, upon arriving here, it seemed as if the clouds had dispersed a bit. Thinking to myself that "it probably won't rain," I sat down to wait for my platoon classmates.
Going up the mountain is easy, but coming down is difficult. There weren’t many classmates like me who found descending effortless; the steep mountain path became daunting as most students made their way down. To prevent falls, everyone held hands in groups of three or five and moved slowly. Those of us who had already reached flat ground shouted "Be careful!" while breaking off branches from nearby trees to give to those trembling classmates as makeshift walking sticks. Suddenly, one of two girls holding hands accidentally stepped on the wild grass and slipped. The two quickly embraced each other and began rolling down at an angle. I shouted "Sit down! Sit down!" while sprinting a couple of steps to stand in a low spot in the middle of the path. Perhaps they didn’t hear me or were too concerned about their pretty clothes; instead of sitting down, they rolled even faster. In a moment of urgency, I stretched out my arms and tightly hugged the girl in front of me, being pulled down a couple of steps before finally stabilizing myself. Letting out a sigh of relief, I then guided them slowly down the remaining ten meters of slope.
Seeing this thrilling scene, Teacher X immediately instructed those still on the slope to stop and assigned each girl a boy who was accustomed to walking on mountain paths as a "support," especially on that steep section where only one pair could pass at a time.
The line continued to slide down slowly. As I released my grip on the girl’s hand, my face suddenly flushed. Without having time to hear what my classmates were discussing, I immediately ran towards the distant mountainside. Not looking back, I couldn’t recall what I had experienced along the way; all I knew was that shortly after starting to run, the clouds thickened and darkened, prompting me to run even faster.
Just a few steps away from the dirt flat near the mountainside, raindrops began to fall. By the time I reached the house at Forest Farm at the edge of the flat area, a rare spring downpour hit suddenly. After waiting for about ten minutes, all my classmates arrived by my side. Teacher X counted them and noted that around twenty or thirty students had turned into "drenched chickens."
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