Peach Blossom Spring, A Farewell to Xiao Nan

 　　I wrote something last night, but it wasn't very well written, so I deleted it. This morning, however, I felt a pang of emotion, a feeling that lingered in my mind. I couldn't help but write down some of my feelings.

　　As expected, this morning, Xiao Nan's gift to us was a sudden downpour during the flag-raising ceremony, catching us off guard from our sentimental and melancholic mood. Perhaps this is its true nature. Previously, Xiao Nan had brought a continuous rainstorm from Qingming Festival to the Summer Solstice. This unpretentiousness is her true nature, and it's what we find most unforgettable.

　　Xiao Nan is our paradise, with its fallen petals, fragrant grasses, and tranquil paths adorned with shallow moss.

　　I believe the simplest world is the tranquility of nature and the pure sincerity of human relationships. Xiao Nan is more like a sanctuary for all of us. We were already forced into our twenties, one foot in the ivory tower of university, the other exposed to the competitive arena of society. It was Xiao Nan that quietly carved out a year for us on our long journey through life, allowing us to reminisce about our youthful exuberance and unforgettable days.

　　In Xiao Nan, there wasn't much social interaction, no need to tirelessly cope with the relentless pressure, no alluring temptations of the glitz and glamour of the adult world, no need to endure the hardships, compromises, compromises, and anxieties of adulthood. Xiao Nan held our small group firmly in its embrace for eight months.

　　For someone as quiet and reclusive as me, Xiao Nan's existence was a romantic paradise. Lin Qingxuan said that romance is wasting time eating slowly, wasting time drinking tea slowly, wasting time walking slowly, wasting time growing old slowly. Life in Xiao Nan moved slowly, and I suddenly understood the source of that leisurely pace of life. In this competitive world, a 308-acre paradise of tranquility is romance.

　　Who said that everyone has a fire in their heart, but when you pass through someone's world, you only see smoke? Our significance to Xiao Nan is probably the same. Through decades of vicissitudes and romance, it has witnessed countless comings and goings. We, this group, are merely a shallow scratch in its history.

　　Therefore, I say, gatherings and separations are inevitable; it's best to let nature take its course.

　　There's a close-up shot in the movie "Tiny Times" of the four sisters graduating, their now empty dormitory room a vivid reminder of the past: "No one is young forever, but there will always be someone young." Xiao Nan is the same; no one will always be in Xiao Nan, but Xiao Nan will always have our people.

　　This is the meaning of meeting, isn't it? On everyone's journey through life, we meet by chance, accompany each other for a while, our directions are different, separation is inevitable, why cling on and be unable to let go? After parting, let's go our separate ways, each to our own ends, and wish each other well. With time as our witness, it's enough that we treated each other with our hearts and souls.

　　There's a line in *Under the Hawthorn Tree*: "We always realize how deeply we've fallen in love with each other when we part." This reveals the true nature of all the so-called forced sentimentality and reluctance to part. It's simply because we're leaving this familiar environment and won't be setting foot on this land for a long time. The vast amounts of time we've squandered are about to run out. Our long, flowing story is coming to a happy ending; our stage is closing, everyone is leaving. Therefore, we express our desire to make up for lost time even more strongly. How much we regret not having lived those countless days to the fullest, more vividly and unforgettable. I think this is the feeling of parting—a sense of reluctance.

　　Perhaps others have different thoughts. But for me, Xiao Nan has become a habit. Mosquitoes, moths, butterflies, flowers, birds, snakes, fish, sunshine, rain, laughter—all have become a habit. I can't say I have a deep love for the material life here, nor can I say I particularly appreciate its uniqueness; it's just a faint feeling, like many ordinary days and nights. I know it exists, but I don't want to force myself to disturb this serene atmosphere.

　　It's time to leave. As Tagore said, we don't need to linger to pick fresh flowers, but should continue on our journey; flowers will bloom along all the paths we pass.

　　Cai Kangyong said, "There are people in the world who are happy to meet and happy to be with." Compared to fleeting pleasure, we prefer to be those who never tire of being together. Similarly, Xiaonan is a place we didn't want to come to, and we didn't want to leave. Only those who have truly lived here will understand that it was truly worthwhile.

　　To borrow a classic line from Mr. Congwen, we've traveled many roads, seen many clouds, drunk many kinds of wine, and loved many people in their prime, but we only have the best quarter of university experience at Xiaonan.

　　A lyric goes, "Our story ends here." Let go of the past, let go of the future, the present is just right.

　　Everything we experience must pass through our hearts, reach our minds, and penetrate our souls. In Xiaonan, the warmth and coldness of human relationships, the fleeting events of the past, will not be recounted. Memory has its own place.

　　Finally, I bid farewell to my Peach Blossom Spring with one of my favorite poems by Xi Murong:

　　"The Ferry Crossing"

　　—Let me shake your hand in farewell, then gently withdraw my hand, knowing that longing will take root from this moment. Floating clouds and bright sun, mountains and rivers solemn and gentle. Let me

　　shake your hand in farewell, then gently withdraw my hand, time will stand still from this moment, hot tears will gather into a river in my heart. It is such a helpless gaze.

　　I cannot find a single flower to offer by the ferry crossing, so I will pin my blessings to my lapel, for tomorrow, tomorrow will be another world apart.