Early summer morning

 　　Part 1: A Morning in Early Summer A

　　morning in early summer is quiet and clear. The azure sky still reflects the shadow of the full moon. The small tree, about the size of a bowl, in the center of the neighborhood is still asleep, and the little bird perched on its branch is also asleep. The bird is very close to me; if I listen carefully, I can almost hear its soft snoring.

　　I stand quietly, afraid of making the slightest sound to disturb the little bird's sweet dream. I tiptoe and cautiously observe it; the little creature's pale green feathers seem to still have a thin layer of dust on them. I guess it must have just flown a long way and hasn't had time to clean itself before falling asleep. I wonder where its companions are; why is it all alone? Gazing at the little bird's soundly sleeping appearance, a feeling of admiration suddenly rises in my heart.

　　I don't know if this is the little bird's destination, or if it's here to find companions or just to play. I quietly think, if only I were a bird without any worries. Then I could fly high and far away. Birds can only fly when they are unburdened and free from worries. Life is filled with too many inescapable worries, sometimes weighing heavily on the heart like stones. Some worries are innate, others are gifts bestowed upon you by fate on life's journey. Strong people must shoulder the storms alone. Worries are like clouds and rain, always lingering in the heart, impossible to shake off. I think worries are deep blessings and eternal prayers, a colorful ribbon in life. Who can live without worries?

　　The little bird was still sound asleep, so I tiptoed away. Let it sleep a little longer; perhaps it will fly to another place when it wakes up. I could only silently wish it a safe journey, wishing it to fly higher and farther.

　　Part Two: A Morning in Early Summer

　　I woke up naturally this morning, how about you?

　　Lying wearily in bed, I slowly stretched, turned around and sat up, then propped the pillow behind my back, opened my sleepy eyes, and following the soft light, I seemed to see the sun through the curtains.

　　I got out of bed, moved to the window, and lifted the heavy curtains. Sunlight flooded my face, instantly making my eyes feel heavy and my bones feel weak. I gently closed my eyelids and felt comfortable again.

　　The birds in the pomelo tree outside had been chirping happily for who knows how long, hopping about carefree. I whistled at them as a greeting, but startled them

　　, and they scattered across the branches. Actually, I was thinking of you. How are you today? Sunlight, accompanied by a gentle breeze, lightly tickled my windowpane, pleasantly seeping in and filling the room with a spiritual warmth. I sat on the floor, gazing intently at its slow, gentle steps, creeping from my toes to my ankles, then to my knees, then to my thighs—warm, like your caress. I breathed lazily, letting it kiss me freely. I

　　stretched sweetly and got up. Barefoot on the mosaic floor, I tiptoed to the living room.

　　I need to eat some breakfast; otherwise, how can I have the energy to think of you, right? If only you were here, I could make you some fragrant cream pastries, your favorite orange flavor, and I'd add some dried sweet potatoes from our hometown.

　　Now, my gaze rests on that photo taken in our hometown, sitting on the table. It's the first time you visited my hometown, a photo of us together. My heart is filled with joy as I fly back to the rapeseed fields of my hometown; the verdant bamboo groves and mountain valleys; the pebble-strewn riverbank; and the small yard where Mom used to hang clothes to dry. You were there with me, dreaming countless times. I imagine us lying on the green grass, facing the blue sky, our hands clasped so warmly.

　　Mom said we were the perfect couple. I know that's what she, as a mother, most wanted to see. I love you, so Mom loves you too, because you love me!

　　Thinking of so many memories, I can't help but wonder how you are doing now. A worry rises in my heart, a sigh for the world. No one is absolutely immune; do you? I worry that you'll be swept away like the tide, never to return. The strength of one's faith probably determines the course of one's life. Life's journey is inevitably filled with various situations, and unwavering faith brings stability. Conversely, the road ahead is ever-changing, so you must be prepared to meet the challenges. I still believe in you; I believe you can stand tall and stand firm. You are the mountain in my heart. If even the mountain in my heart were to waver, imagine how disappointed and heartbroken I would be. Would you stand idly by and watch me grieve? You wouldn't. Loving me, and loving me forever, is your lifelong promise. It was you who held my hand and placed it on your heart, and I firmly believe it.

　　Look at me, saying so much so early in the morning—is it annoying? It's such a beautiful day; are you up yet? Enjoy nature's bounty like I do! Come out with me, open your hearts, let more sunshine and fresh air into your soul, and we will be happier.

　　Part Three: A Summer Morning, A Soul's Exile

　　On a summer morning, upon waking, the first thing I do is jump out of bed, walk barefoot to my study, turn on the computer, and play some melodious music. The deep, clear sounds of the guzheng sweep away the unfinished dreams of last night, wash away the fleeting melancholy, and fill my mind with a sense of emptiness, giving the new day a touch of comfort and allowing my still-dormant brain to relax completely.

　　Back in the bedroom, I draw back the heavy curtains and lean against the windowsill, gazing at the world outside. All my thoughts are immersed in the music, reminiscing about the past, appreciating the deep emotions of last night, soothing the faint sadness, and enjoying the fresh morning air, feeling completely entranced. The cool morning mist gently dissipates in the distance, and a light breeze occasionally brushes against my sleepy face, as if I'm bathing in a completely new realm.

　　I push open the window and watch the morning mist rise and drift away with the sun. The damp air makes me close my eyes, stretch my still-lazy arms, and take a deep breath, letting the fresh air slowly enter my body with each breath, giving a cool sensation, like drops of fresh blood gradually replacing old cells in my circulatory system, freeing my soul. Let the new sun drive away the loneliness in the crowd. Watching the first rays of sunlight illuminate the room, some inexplicable sadness drifts away, gathering yesterday's desolation, freeing my soul, eroding the somewhat stagnant bone marrow, and infusing it with new feelings and heart palpitations.

　　The sounds of the guzheng accompany the morning, disturbing the decaying sediment of life, changing the enlightenment in my life little by little. In this gap in the flow of time, hope seems to have shaken off melancholy, wanting to chase the passion of fire, igniting the vast years. The pain of the past, along with the fragments of last night's dream, melts into fallen petals the moment the sun rises, no longer splashing everywhere. Still surviving deep within my heart are the ideals of my youth, beginning to revive and return in this tranquil and open time, rippling with subtle waves.

　　Early summer mornings are just like this—relaxed and joyful. I love to shed all adornments at this time, bare-faced, stepping lightly out the door, letting my heartbeat and intoxication resonate, kissing the most genuine smile, leaping with the wind, entwining with the mist, dancing freely in nature. Look at the grass at my feet, its pointed blades adorned with glistening dewdrops, trembling slightly in the gentle breeze, occasionally dripping down to merge with the soil. Look at the tall trees by the roadside, their dense branches, in this damp time, greedily absorbing the fresh air, accumulating moisture.

　　Early summer mornings are serene. Although I walk alone, silently and slowly, I feel no loneliness, for the air is filled with overlapping birdsong and floral shadows, reflecting yet another splendid season. At this moment, my heart is also tracing the course of another day. My whole being is brimming with hope, a new ideal is being nurtured, and a beautiful scene is being created. Therefore, I love myself at this moment, and I love the air at this moment even more.

　　The wind is gentle, the grass is lush and green, and people are most authentic at this moment. Everywhere I look is a new world, fluttering and soaring against the blue sky. My heart is also filled with boundless pride; dreams follow my heart, spreading their wings and battling the clouds. My soul leaps in the sky, hope spreads among the clouds, igniting a tomorrow bound by the rules of life and refreshing the blueprint hindered by worldly reasons.

　　Part Four: A Subtle Fragrance, Lightly Intoxicating the Early Summer Morning

　　In the early morning, I opened the window, and a ray of sunlight slanted into the small room, warm and inviting. I knew May was a warm month, but the rain a couple of days ago had made it cool, with occasional chills. I took off my floral dress and put on a long coat, yet felt no heat at all.

　　My office is on the second floor, offering a wide view, unobstructed by any buildings, with an unobstructed view of the distant scenery. What delights me most is the garden in front of the door, sparsely overgrown with many unnamed things. Many of the flowers I had planted earlier have withered, and even the clover has frozen to death in winter, leaving very few. A few magnolia trees and holly bushes grow here and there, along with clumps of weeds.

　　The Education Bureau hasn't come to inspect for a while, and it seems the garden cleaning has been temporarily suspended. Although these overgrown weeds aren't particularly eye-catching, I've always loved them. Whether after meals or after spending a long time on the computer, I always go and interact with them, even though I never touch them.

　　This morning, tiny purple flowers bloomed on a cluster of green vines, like little trumpets just awakened from sleep. They weren't crowded, but rather clustered tightly on the branches, their tips pointing upwards, utterly adorable. They deeply captivated my gaze, and a long, lingering look moved me deeply…

　　Just a few days ago, in the sunlight, I only saw roses proudly displayed on the branches, unaware of the hidden fragrance emanating from this place. So, I decided to approach it.

　　Descending the stairs, bypassing the concrete path, I entered the vine-entwined garden and stood before this cluster of purple flowers. In this close proximity, I felt an unprecedented joy. A gentle sniff revealed a faint scent, seemingly of water and earth, so natural and serene. I picked a flower and examined it closely. The petals were purple, the stamens white, like a country woman in a dark purple dress, yet unable to conceal her delicate, fair face. After overcoming numerous obstacles, it finally revealed its beauty under the sun and rain, though still with a touch of shyness.

　　I wonder when these clusters of little morning glories appeared, and how I never noticed them before. Even now, I don't know their name; I call them "morning glories" based on their shape. Perhaps, one day, these morning glories will be uprooted, and the flowers will remain oblivious. My heart aches slightly; I don't want this quiet beauty in my heart to be destroyed. But some destruction is unavoidable, just like life itself. Whatever you cherish most will eventually be discarded by time. Childhood joys, youthful romances—all will fade with time, leaving only occasional memories. We cannot preserve them; perhaps only a written record can hold onto the beauty that has vanished. So, why not live more peacefully like the morning glories, cherishing every day of our lives, regardless of the circumstances?

　　And so, I began to feel a dependence on these clusters of morning glories. They were the only quiet moments I could find after a busy day at work. Every day, caught up in the hustle and bustle of life, the innocence of my early school days had long since faded. The trials of time had made me materialistic, and even simple friendships had become tainted with self-interest. Suddenly, I longed to live like these morning glories, simply and quietly, regardless of what tomorrow held. As long as I lived peacefully today, that was beauty itself.

　　I didn't know how long these nameless morning glories would stay with me, and I understood that they were just wildflowers growing among a hundred blossoms, never destined for a garden, their efforts ultimately futile. Yet, their unassuming tranquility and their indiscriminate blooming were proof enough of their past beauty. They grew by country streams, in neglected yards, even in corners, all for the sake of their short lives, never caring about their origins or environment. So, what reason did I have not to love them, not to admire them?

　　I specially kept a morning glory for myself, tucking it between the pages of a book. When my heart is entangled in the strife of the world, I open the book, look at it, and perhaps sunshine will enter my heart. This subtle fragrance brushes past my heart, making this early summer morning feel vibrant.