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After a lively gathering with friends over the weekend, the
place was left in a mess of cups and dishes. Feeling drunk and drowsy, I
suddenly heard children's excited screams: "It's raining!" My body jolted,
and my alcohol-induced haze disappeared as I walked to the window. Sure
enough, it was raining.
The yellowish-white soil had become damp and gradually darkened. The
neighboring silver fence shone brightly, enveloped in the bluish-green rain,
like a boat outside the Cold Mountain Temple at night. This spring rain was
like a young girl in the throes of first love, shyly and coquettishly
putting on makeup and dress, repeatedly trying to attract the other person's
attention until they were almost exhausted, before finally appearing.
Although it was late, it had arrived.
This year was an unusually warm winter, with no snow to decorate the New
Year, and the festive atmosphere was somewhat diminished, making farmers
anxious about planting in the coming spring. From the vast earth to the
luscious lips of beautiful women, everything was cracked and dry from the
lack of snow. The dry dust on the streets flew everywhere, stinging the
face. The farmers' faces were filled with anxiety, pacing restlessly in the
fields, looking at the withered wheat seedlings, hoping for rain. The air
was stifling, and the usually lively and active children stayed indoors,
watching "Rural Love Story." The belated spring rain was like the main
character who appeared at the end of a TV series, giving people a surprise
in their despair. Good rain knows its timing, and spring comes when it
should. This scorched earth was like a red makeup waiting in an empty room.
Only when the beauty had aged and her hair turned white did the elderly
beauty finally meet her lover, with a bitter-sweet joy!
I stepped out of the courtyard, and the children ran past me one by one like
a gust of wind, leaving behind a string of giggles, ignoring their parents'
calls. The road beneath my feet was wet but not muddy, soft to the touch.
The inconspicuous little grass on both sides of the road stood tall, and
from a distance, it looked like green light dots. The emerald willows on the
ridge of the fields were like smoke, elegant and charming, greenifying the
entire spring. The farmers chatted joyfully among the fields, and the lush
wheat seedlings gave them hope for a bountiful harvest.
The cool spring breeze brushed against my face, and the apricot blossoms
outside the city danced and fluttered in the rain, falling with the wind. A
few flowers landed on my head. Suddenly, I thought of the infatuated woman
from ancient times who wandered in the spring and had her hair full of
falling apricot blossoms. I wondered if she was still waiting for her
marriage destiny in the apricot rain. I also wondered if her spring clothes
would remain dry. |
