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墨書 Inktalez
Once the adventurous spirit took root, the desire for exploration grew stronger. After my experience with the Flying Car Yujialing, I quickly embarked on a new round of attempts.
It was a Saturday afternoon, clear after the rain, and most of my classmates had returned home. With my father not at school, I felt too lazy to go back alone. However, staying at school was quite boring, so I put on a pair of newly bought knee-high rain boots and habitually walked out of the school gate, heading towards home along the mountain path to the left of the school.
After crossing the small hill on the left side of the school, I saw the rushing water in the canal ahead. Just as I was about to step over it, an idea suddenly popped into my mind: I had heard that there was a reservoir downstream of this Canal. Since I didn’t want to go home today anyway, why not go take a look and have some fun?
Walking along the Canal, I noticed that the road home was drifting further from my sight. It was only then that I began to pay attention to the path beneath my feet: this was a well-constructed Canal, said to irrigate thousands of acres of farmland and nourish a small reservoir. Therefore, it was built quite grandly, unlike the shabby canals near my home.
The walls on either side were almost entirely made of cement, with splashes of water occasionally creating beautiful ripples and patterns. The bottom of the canal was also paved with mortar, sprinkled with stones here and there, making it hard to find any mud.
To facilitate maintenance of the canal, paths for pedestrians were left on both sides except where it cut through mountains. Most were paved with pebbles, and occasionally there would be stretches of concrete pavement. However, after continuous rain, many areas still had puddles of muddy water. Occasionally encountering unpaved dirt paths made them quite muddy. Wearing my rain boots, I didn’t walk barefoot like I did in elementary school when crossing ridges; instead, when I encountered such muddy paths and wild grass areas, I would slow down and carefully rub my muddy boots against them until most of the dirt was gone.
So I walked on like this—stopping and going—perhaps due to familiarity with nature; my love for it kept me from paying much attention to the scenery around me. My focus remained on an unknown destination—the reservoir—while also worrying about potential troubles—mud.
Unknowingly, over an hour passed without any sign of the anticipated reservoir. The direction of the Canal seemed increasingly remote; it had been nearly half an hour since I last saw any houses or heard any barking dogs that made me feel a bit uneasy. Gradually, thoughts of turning back began to form in my mind: after all, reservoirs around the world are generally similar; this unknown one wasn’t something I absolutely needed to see. It would be better to return to school.
Having made up my mind to head back, I didn’t turn around immediately; unwilling to retrace my steps along the same route, I started planning an alternative path: based on my basic geographical knowledge, both the school and my current location should be at opposite corners of a rectangle. After leaving school, I had mostly walked in a straight line for about a kilometer before turning left and then following the Canal for four or five kilometers. According to my rectangular calculations, if I turned left again and walked about another kilometer before turning left again, that should lead me back toward school. It seemed reasonable that I could return in about an hour.
After mentally reviewing this ideal route a couple of times without finding any issues, a small path between two hills on my left further solidified my resolve to take an alternate route. I immediately headed toward this more unknown path.
Since it was a mountain trail, even after a long period of heavy rain, there was much less mud compared to the main road. The wild grass grew densely; after half a day under the sun, it had dried out at its tips. Walking on it in my rain boots felt particularly easy as my pace gradually quickened.
Estimating that I had walked over a kilometer now with hills still stretching out on my left without any visible roads or houses or encountering any pedestrians made me anxious. Yet I continued reassuring myself: surely this planned route wouldn’t be wrong; just keep going.
After walking about another mile or so, with the sun getting closer to the distant mountain peaks, anxiety tightened in my chest. If I delayed any longer, darkness might fall before reaching school. Adults often said that wild animals roamed in the nearby mountains around gardens; if I encountered one, it would be disastrous. At this moment, turning back to follow the Canal back to school seemed like the safest choice; however, my stubbornness quickly dismissed that thought. Besides, there might be muddy areas along that route too; if I hurried through them now with these new rain boots and clothes on me, they would surely get filthy and I'd definitely face criticism from Dad upon returning.
Hesitating for less than a minute, I gritted my teeth and made a decision: regardless of how rough the path might be ahead, I'd turn left immediately and walk briskly in a straight line—climbing over small hills directly when encountered and bypassing larger ones at their bases.
Without further hesitation, I turned around and began jogging forward. Unless faced with significant hills ahead where I'd need to pause briefly to assess direction and route planning again before resuming my jog.
Soon enough, three or four small hills were left behind me when a modest courtyard appeared ahead where farmers were returning home from their fields one by one. Seeing signs of human presence eased half of my worries as I stopped one man carrying a hoe and timidly asked him: “Sir, where is this? How do you get to Garden?”
“This is Peach Family Brigade,” he replied in as gentle a tone as he could muster despite his rough voice. “Just keep walking straight down this road for about a mile and you’ll reach the main road…”
“Peach Family?” Upon hearing his words sparked another thought: isn’t this where classmate Li Kejun’s platoon is? Maybe he knows if there’s a shortcut…
I added quickly: “Is there someone named Li Kejun in this courtyard? Is there a closer way? I'm trying to get to Garden Middle School.”
“There’s no one named Li here; they must be over at The Li Family courtyard.” He continued: “If you want to get to Garden Middle School there is indeed a shortcut—just climb over that hill ahead then take a left down that forked path; walk about another mile then turn right across a ridge before continuing along the pebble road.”
“Thank you!” As soon as his words finished echoing in my ears, I stepped forward.
By now night had fallen as I breathlessly reached the school playground where lights glowed warmly from Dad's house. Seeing me timidly walk in without saying much more than usual he simply told me: “The food is warming up in big pots at the cafeteria; help yourself.”
After finishing dinner and shedding my heavy clothes and rain boots, only then did I realize what this “adventure” had yielded: my clothes were covered in mud spots large and small with two or three little tears while one boot had split open at its mouth—soaked through with muddy water beyond repair—effectively rendering them useless.
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