Spring outing

 　　Spring returns to the earth, grass grows and birds fly. The green grass in the fields spreads out...

　　It's Sunday again, and a friend called, saying, "Shazi, we're going on a picnic to the Hongshui River to relax. Do you want to come?" I readily agreed, quickly dropping everything I was doing. Only then did I realize that I had been locked up by the cold winter for so long, my heart wrapped in a thick coat, devoid of any novelty, my life a mess.

　　At seven in the morning, the sky began to brighten in the hazy light. Gouzi, Yumi, and I put on our simplest clothes, packed breakfast, and rode our bicycles towards the Hongshui River. The road rushed by under our wheels, as fast as birds flying south from the north in pursuit of spring.

　　We sang and laughed all the way. Yumi was the most lively of us, saying it had been a long time since we'd gone on a trip with our brothers. Today was a beautiful day, and we wanted to pack up some spring to take home and enjoy it often. Dog said he hadn't been able to invite me, this lonely busy person, in a long time, and today he was determined to get me drunk with the water of the Hongshui River, and then we'd go crazy together. Hearing their words, everyone laughed, as fresh and natural as new leaves just sprouting from branches. The leaves on the roadside trees were exceptionally green, as if a special welcome ceremony had been prepared for us. The dense leaves cast faint shadows of the morning light onto the road, like the "dim light of dawn" described by Mr. Tao.

　　After about fifteen minutes, we arrived at the south bank of the Hongshui River. A clear stream, rippling in the morning breeze, stretched before us. We didn't see anyone else; it was just right—quiet. I quietly placed my bicycle aside and sat alone on the grass, watching the gently flowing river, listening to the sound of the water, and gazing at the serene world. Suddenly, a breeze blew from behind, carrying the damp, fresh scent of earth and grass—so real, making me feel close to the footsteps of spring.

　　Ah, how refreshing! I secretly scooped up a handful of water and gently rubbed it on my face. A refreshing sensation spread through every nerve from my face to my toes, making me feel light and airy, as if I were one with the water. At that moment, I felt nothing, my whole body relaxed, like soaking in a hot spring.

　　After a while, I was suddenly "awakened" by two large hands and exclaimed, "What? It's my day off! Why are you making me get up so early?" "Heh, this kid's dreaming. I thought he was still sleeping in bed. Time for breakfast, you idiot!" Gouzi woke me up and called me to eat. It turned out they had already cooked breakfast. Everyone gathered around the mat, eating their homemade breakfast: millet porridge they had just cooked, and vegetables they had grown themselves—three dishes and a soup, all unprocessed, pure and simple. We sat with our knees bent, using the grass as our mat, enjoying our own food and homemade corn wine. Gouzi suggested that we find a way to hold onto this wonderful moment. Corn said, "Sand, you bookworm, how about reciting a poem or singing a song as an opening gesture?" "Okay, then I'll recite a quatrain by Du Fu: '

　　The late sun shines on the beautiful rivers and mountains,

　　the spring breeze carries the fragrance of flowers and grass.

　　Swallows fly as the mud thaws, mandarin ducks

　　sleep on the warm sand.'"

　　"Haha, I never thought a bookworm could recite such a poem! Let's have a drink, a toast to our outing!" Corn raised a glass and added, "Spring is in the wine, and people are drunk in the wine." We drank another glass. With wine as our companion, Corn and Gouzi disregarded any semblance of gentlemanly decorum, loosening their clothes between the glasses and drinking and appreciating the wine in the most free way. Afterwards, they each brought out their latest works, such as Corn's "Short Gun and Woman" and Gouzi's "A Cup of Blood-Made Wine," discussing them at the table, while I acted as the judge and listener, carefully analyzing their writings. We then drank and talked, recounting stories of the world, discussing life over wine, clinking glasses, and composing poems while enjoying the wine. Laughter, the sound of reciting poetry, and the murmur of composing poems echoed through the air.

　　Time, like wine, slowly seeped into our stomachs, settling down, and soon it was ten o'clock. And we, too, were intoxicated by the wine of spring. People gradually began to work on the grass; spring is the beginning of the year, and they were forging a bright new year. The three of us, too, were enjoying the spring outing, discussing literature and poetry, opening our hearts to new things.

　　Nature gave us new strength, dispelling our weariness and invigorating our spirits.

　　A spring outing is our fusion with nature; we decided to embark on a spring outing with family and friends when feeling down.