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Farewell Kiss and the Unknown
墨書 Inktalez
"Plum is ripe too, Wu Huan—aren't you leaving yet?"
Moonlight bleaches the night, in a moment unknown to anyone, longing grows wild like weeds in her heart, and stars leap before her. She opens her eyes and sees Wen in a daze, Wen's eyes speak first, emotions wanting to be expressed but held back, leaving only a fluttering figure in the end.
The " Wen " in the photo?
I was just flipping through a white album, which was clearly on the shelf in front of her, but she seemed completely unaware of it, buried in her work all day. This photo album is only two thin pages, so why are all sixteen photos inside exactly the same?
Even more strange is that it's the same scene, with only a crooked giant tree and a boy sleeping under it, his face barely visible. Her fingers kept drawing circles, and within those circles, her heart was also shedding tears. Her eyes were moist, and the lonely photo felt so familiar, as if it were an old friend from a past life. Wu Huan struggled to remember: she had never been to such a remote mountain village.
Even though all sixteen photos are exactly the same, she still thinks: this photo album definitely tells more than one story, perhaps - each identical scene is a different transition, they signify the meeting of different paths and the development of the story.
The album still retains the warmth of her fingers. How did she come to the world in the photo and meet this " Wen " that she had never heard of?
He didn't fall asleep, just sat there as if he had long anticipated her visit. "Were you waiting for me, Wen?" It felt like an illusion, as if they had known each other for a long time, so familiar in greeting, and he didn't refuse her tentative approach.
Dahuang The dog couldn't stop flying and pouncing, startling and stumbling. It used its passionate, rough tongue to tirelessly lick Wu Huan's cheeks. Wu Huan dodged left and right, but ended up with a sleeve full of saliva. Suddenly, he lifted her up, his eyes shining unlike a blind man's. He seemed to have asked her countless times, " Wu Huan, the Plum is ripe, why aren't you leaving? If you wait any longer, you won't be able to leave."
There are still endless mountains beyond the mountains. He knew that the sun would set and rise again from the east. There was no hope for the days, leaving this distant mountain has always been, and can only be, a murmuring dream in the moonlit night.
Have you ever observed the movement of clouds? Each cloud has its own direction, much like sprinkling salt while cooking, where each grain of salt has its rightful place.
Wen Can't find a clear position, can't categorize the different shapes of clouds.
His eyes can't see, but his heart is not blind. The clearest heart in the world, like a mirror, can foresee all stories.
"Guess what the wind told me today?"
"You will leave."
"I am called Wen, as the rumor goes."
......
Wen doesn't pick flowers or touch grass, nor does he seek Buddha's teachings. With a yellow dog by his side, he seeks a crooked giant tree. With a squint and a lean, then a wide-eyed gaze, the half of the sky is filled with colorful clouds, and the sun's rays are dazzling. This final brilliant sunlight before the curtain falls solemnly proclaims the sacredness and greatness of nature.
Wen cannot see with his own eyes: the theater of the setting sun and the flying birds. How many willingly participating actors has the magnificent work of the Creator truly attracted?
But Wen heard that in front of the distant mountains, Dahuang's barking pierced through the canyon, with the mountains echoing the sound, creating a very melodious and loud dog bark. Sometimes, Wen also thinks that if people liked the sound of dogs barking as much as they liked the songs of birds, it would be good. Occasionally, Wen also considers the survival of other people and the diversity of species in this world.
However, it's only occasionally. Most of the time, Wen is silent.
This is a contemplative question. If you could also see the future, would you inevitably become silent?
Wen knew that he would eventually find the right tree, but he was still unsure. So Dahuang followed him, wandering all over the mountains and turning around, until the fourth year, when Wen was sixteen years old, the correct crooked giant tree finally arrived late.
The scene was grand, with a group of people closely escorting. Although tightly bound, they were afraid of any accidental bumps or scratches that might break the skin. Several new-style cars from the city followed closely behind the pickup truck. The village chief said, "The higher-ups value this, it's called ancient wood."
Wen was fortunate to be the student representative and became the first child to have intimate contact with the giant tree during the transplanting ceremony. The cracked bark felt bitter to the senses, wrinkled like the skin of the oldest grandfather in the village. A very modern and trendy man, wearing a tie and black leather shoes, waved his hands up and down, pacing back and forth, and enthusiastically recounted the history and origins of the old tree to everyone.
The tree is over 180 years old, and Wen is shocked to realize that his shallow life experience falls short by about ten generations compared to it. He can only gaze at it sadly - this old camphor tree bound with red silk. There is no dignity to speak of, as they carefully stage their little drama.
He suddenly felt a bit emotional, showing some sympathy for his seniors. The silent trees were decorated like a pig waiting to be slaughtered during the festival, and everyone was eager to eat its fat. Wen doesn't like to eat pork, not for religious reasons.
He doesn't even like to eat. The stimulation of dopamine secretion makes him feel uncomfortable, preferring to chew on a few pieces of crispy radish to quench his thirst, and then drink colorless and tasteless autumn wind with Dahuang.
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