Summer, those hidden little joys

 　　Summer, once it has a firm foothold, marches straight in. It heats layer by layer—tender heat, deep heat, scorching heat—its heat is firm and fierce; it is single-mindedly hot—dry heat, sweltering heat, humid heat—its heat is resolute and stubborn.

　　You watch it penetrate deeper and deeper, from the tip of your nose, to your skin, muscles, and even your fist-sized heart, until it finally truly takes over your body and mind.

　　39 degrees Celsius—that state of complete honesty between man and nature has arrived.

　　In which other season do we so eagerly strip, strip, strip? Stepping inside the door, we strip down to the bare minimum. The moment we undress, a cool breeze rises from the fan blades, gently entering our embrace—is there a more beautiful, more secret joy than this?

　　Stripping is liberation, release, stretching, letting go; it's a soul, wrapped up, secretly and directly yearning in a suitable time and space.

　　If time permits, then quickly shed all burdens and stand under the showerhead. The gurgling warm water, like heavenly music, gently flows down from my head, covering my chest and back, its flow long and deep. Heh, a life of decadence? That murky atmosphere can't compare to this cool and pleasant feeling.

　　On days like these, when you're constantly sweating, it's best to stay home. The little pleasures of staying home are not for outsiders to know; please don't tell anyone. For example, in the morning, slip on a loose, flowing nightgown—cotton or silk, whatever—cool, smooth, comfortable, and not sticky against your skin. On a scorching hot day, stay indoors and let your body sway freely through sunrise and sunset.

　　And then there are the three meals a day, right? Well, let me tell you, tie an apron over your nightgown and head to the kitchen to while away the summer days. Amidst the gentle chirping of cicadas, facing various ingredients, my creative spirit is ignited. Moving between the cutting board and the stove, the firelight flickering, I don't have to think about anything else. Outside the window, the sun blazes overhead, its rays incandescent, but what does it matter? In the small space of the kitchen, I move about with boundless energy, like a lively, life-loving fish.

　　When bored, I can drink tea or read a book. This summer, I've been slowly sipping the "Maoshan Red" tea that my dear friend sent me. The small teapot, held in my hand, fills only six small cups. The amber-red liquor is elegant and dignified; the tiny cups, about the size of walnuts, are perfect for a single sip. The aroma is rich and mellow; drinking it makes my lungs feel refreshed, and even summer feels sweet.

　　Nowadays, those who are fully equipped and working under the scorching sun are generally carrying an inescapable responsibility. This summer, I spent two days in the countryside and two days visiting residential areas and conducting door-to-door surveys. Constantly going up and down stairs, getting on and off vehicles, entering and leaving homes, exchanging pleasantries, listening and taking notes—our clothes were soaked with sweat and then dried, then soaked again. Hair is truly superfluous, like a pure wool hat, scorching hot in the sun, making one feel dizzy. The considerate team leader got out of the car and brought back a bunch of ice creams. A fragrant, cool breeze gently wafted over. Even this middle-aged woman, who adheres to the principle of "never eating cold food in the sweltering summer," took one and devoured it without stopping, savoring

　　its rich flavor and feeling a refreshing coolness. Hehe, in this sweltering heat, all conventions can be overturned and rebuilt; that secret joy of being tempted yet resisting is indescribable.

　　Of course, it's good to get out of the house and enjoy the world. At the very least, a wild time on a mountaintop or lakeside outside the city can yield unexpected rewards.

　　Really, you can go "lying down" for half a day. Find a shady day, a beautiful body of water, preferably with fine sand; a soft, green meadow is also good. Lay yourself down there, surrendering to the wind and rain. Slowly reflect on your thoughts, the past, or think of nothing at all, just quietly observe and lie down. Looking at the sky, the water, the clouds, and the greenery, you realize your own insignificance and suddenly have an epiphany; many of life's goals seem less important at this moment. Fame and fortune no longer seem like necessities.

　　What could be a more secret happiness than conversing with all things?

　　How to put it? Summer, though it can be tough, think back to those long nights spent huddled under mosquito nets, drenched in sweat; those mornings when the first rays of sunlight bathed the streets and alleys; the cool, humming breeze of the fan; those leisurely moments spent sipping Maoshan red wine until dusk... Morning and evening routines, washing clothes and eating, every little detail, is imbued with the unique, hidden joys of summer.