In the mountainous countryside, the melodious cries of the cuckoo heralded the
arrival of spring. This beautiful season spread across the bare fields,
stretching into the distance. The spring water overflowed the riverbanks,
accompanied by the rhythmic sounds of pine trees swaying in the wind. The hills
were adorned with blooming jasmine, exuding an aura of tranquility.
In the early morning, the lake reflected the blue sky, while white clouds spread
their wings, enveloping the brilliant sky. Women washed their clothes by the
creek, and the sweet laughter echoed through the valleys like a dream. This
continued for several days. Figures carrying bamboo baskets moved among the
clusters of jasmine, absentmindedly plucking flower buds. The forest was filled
with wind chimes grass, with its vibrant blue resembling a lake, and strands of
milky white swaying like bells in the wind. The hawthorn trees bloomed
magnificently, their petals melting like snowflakes and transforming into
fragrant smoke that dispersed into the fresh air.
Though a single jasmine flower may go unnoticed like a delicate silk scarf,
when they embraced one another, their fragrance became intense. Their silver
color resembled moonlight, while their golden hue symbolized sunlight, embodying
the poetic essence of spring. The mountain people brewed tea with jasmine
petals, resulting in a pure and sweet flavor that refreshed the spirit. Whenever
the sunny spring days arrived, children would pluck tender branches and fill
their bamboo baskets, venturing along winding village paths to sell them to tea
vendors at the market. The calls and shouts in the streets sounded like
melodious songs. Jasmine flowers grew quietly, pure and sweet. Their blossoms
shimmered under the sunlight, appearing like fiery flames cloaked in mist,
emitting a turquoise glow. Amidst the radiant crimson, the dark faces within the
flowers smiled, listening joyfully as the mountain birds sang everywhere.
The mountain people never took sweet breaks. Under the dense green shade of
chestnut trees, children carrying bamboo baskets gathered enthusiastically,
responding to each other's calls. They plucked jasmine flowers from the
branches, and when their baskets were full, they walked together in groups
through the fields toward the village entrance. During the blooming season of
jasmine, chestnut trees whispered in the gentle breeze, sprinkling kind words
upon their branches.
In the bustling streets of the afternoon, the air was filled with the aromas of
rice wine and honey, blending with the fragrance of jasmine, creating a rich
aroma that wafted in the wind. Layers of dust and grass lifted from the road,
swirling around and gently brushing against sun-warmed cheeks. Sweat dripped
from the foreheads of village women, tinted with shades of black and red, while
their blue scarves fluttered in the wind. The earth adorned itself in deep red
attire. The merchants' hemp bags were filled with multiflorum knotweed, and
jasmine was packed into cloth sacks, accompanied by the jingling sound of
distant cowbells and clinking coins.
As twilight descended, enveloping the peaceful scenery, the dust settled on the
road, and cooking smoke rose into the air. Accompanied by the resonant chorus of
frogs and the melancholic songs of cuckoos, tree leaves rustled in the evening
breeze. Children, carrying empty bamboo baskets, crossed through the forests and
stepped onto familiar paths, silently and joyfully returning home.
Mysterious shadows seeped into the mountains, while dewdrops from the night
covered the petals of the jasmine, shimmering coldly. The jasmine blossomed
ceaselessly, day and night, peacefully adorning the serene mountains with
moonlight and sunlight. |
