Chapter 120: The Mysterious Pattern Reappears

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Li Bai once praised, “The flowing water of Jin Temple is like jade,” and indeed, as I watch the gentle ripples shimmering in the light, they seem dreamlike... At this moment, Dongting Lake lies vast and tranquil, as natural and poetic as a verse. The pool water remains as still as a mirror, clearly reflecting the flickering fireflies, their flames dancing, and the jade toad in the azure sky. Though the sun has set, its light reflects from beneath the clouds, casting a crimson glow upon the lake’s surface, which appears aflame, while everything around loses its original hues, submerged in the red light.

Suddenly, a flash of brightness catches my eye. I hasten forward to find a clear artificial lake, like a grand mirror nestled in the countryside, reflecting blue skies and white clouds. The water is pristine; a gentle breeze stirs ripples that glisten with golden light. With a sharp “squeak,” a swallow swoops down, its pointed tail skimming the water, stirring a circle of ripples… In the lake, fish surface: some exhale strings of bubbles, others chase and play with one another; some hide beneath lotus leaves as if under tiny umbrellas; others swim leisurely behind their mothers. The withered lotus stems in the front pool suddenly quiver, followed by lively leaps of red carp, breaking the once-dead calm of the water's surface.

The lake lies smooth as glass, boats gliding as if over a pane; shimmering ripples are like fine silk threads, tender and green. Gazing afar, the hues deepen gradually, turning into a profound jade. Looking up, clouds drift leisurely; looking down at the lake’s heart, another sky appears, with clouds wandering. The peaks on both banks stand inverted in the water, uniformly verdant, their sentiment accompanying the travelers. As one reaches the end and turns a bend, the same mountains and water unfold—how one longs for change! Yet after traveling north to south over 120 miles, the scenery remains unchanged.

Compared to the surging waves of Dongting Lake, Jingpo Lake is calm and serene; compared to the vast, rounded expanse of Tai Lake, Jingpo resembles a great river where the water lies still. Compared to Daming Lake, which is but a pool of clear water, and West Lake, which is an alluring beauty “with spring mountains low and graceful, and autumn waters gazing,” Jingpo is like a modest, natural, chaste maiden. Looking afar, the water sparkles vividly, sails dot the lake, and the islets are like pieces of jade embedded amidst the lake’s scenery, appearing enchantingly delicate.

The lake’s allure is irresistible, especially in such heat. Approaching the shore, the barrier of heat waves before me vanishes instantly. The water ripples, sparkling as if layered with gold. My hand cannot resist, gently dipping into the water. Ah! The refreshing sensation is indescribable. Ripples softly caress the white marble pool walls; the flowing autumn water undulates beneath the “Fish-Knowing Bridge.” The green islets are like pearls set upon the lake; at first glance, they resemble rolling green waves among the clouds. Colorful sails dot the Thousand-Island Lake, surrounded by greenery, appearing so enchanting. Viewing the clear lake from above, wind ruffles the scales of waves like lace, now showing, now concealed; the pine winds sound low and graceful, evoking endless reveries like ancient tales; the slender, pure white reeds swaying in the breeze reveal their unique charm, delicate enough to hesitate before touching.

As the sun sets, the blood-red dusk paints half the sky; the lake’s face blushes shyly like a maiden. Adjacent hills shelter a reservoir, the water green as cat’s eyes, awe-inspiring. From the Hongque Tower, overlooking the Lu Lake, small exquisite pavilions sit on the shimmering water, golden sunlight scatters across the surface like countless dazzling jewels sparkling brilliantly. Ah, the water of Peach Blossom Pool is truly green, like flawless jade, its gentle autumn waters offering a touch of coolness; look! Scattered lotus leaves, edges yellowed, yet crystal-clear dewdrops mischievously cling atop; beneath the withered leaves, red goldfish roam freely, while maple shadows fall variegated—yellow, green, red, white, black!

The spring pond’s beauty lies in its stillness, so calm one feels it is not merely water but a verdant, crystal-clear lawn. Blue skies, green trees, and white clouds embrace its graceful form, while quiet ripples hint at thoughtful depths. Eternal tranquility brings extraordinary clarity: fish and stones beneath the surface are plainly visible—this is not just the eye of a recluse but one ignited with hope. The spring pond’s beauty also lies in its movement: like ever-changing green silk, radiant and pure, sunlight dances on the ripples like flying petals or scattered gold, each glimmering spot alive with tiny flickering sprites, expanding and trembling; a breeze stirs water patterns, gently sweeping from side to side, then another wave… The once-clear boundaries on the water blur under wisps of mist, spreading softly like ink on rice paper.

The vast desert is monotonous and lonely, yet broad and open, inviting the wild horses of thought to gallop freely in this expansive space. At dusk, Sailimu Lake deepens to blue, blending sky and water indistinguishably; it is unclear where the sky dyes the lake or the lake the sky. At noon, bathed in brilliant sunlight, Sailimu Lake gleams like shimmering silk, with green grass and red flowers, white sheep and yellow cattle, grey camels and golden horses—like clouds of color drifting along the shore.

Thousand-Island Lake is not a natural lake; it formed after the construction of the Xin’anjiang Hydropower Station, creating an 860,000-acre artificial lake—over a hundred times the size of West Lake. Its spring rains rival those of the Nannao Spring: spring water flows, difficult to condense into a single jade slab, while this lake lies calm, soft, and beautiful like a jadeite. The green water seems draped in a veil thin as cicada wings, inspiring reverence lest one’s breath break it. The ancient lake, rippling under sunlight, glistens; graceful willow branches resemble a maiden’s washed tresses. Mountains rise nearly 100 meters; some peaks have submerged, others form islands—these islands were once mountains standing in water. There are 1,078 such islands, hence the name “Thousand-Island Lake.” The broad lake stretches beyond the seventeen-arch jade bridge, reaching out to embrace the azure sky, finally blending into pale clouds and mist.

In crisp autumn air, looking far, countless sparkling water marks shimmer faintly. Waves upon waves roll ashore, striking stones. The water chills as if purified; darker hues sink to the lakebed. Mist drifts over the water, stirred by autumn winds, leisurely and unbound. White reeds sway in the wind, delicate and pure, revealing their unique beauty, so tender one hesitates to touch.

West Lake lies in the west of Hangzhou, Zhejiang Province, spanning about 5.6 square kilometers. Renowned for its enchanting scenery and serene environment, it has long been a famous tourist destination. People say, “Above is heaven; below are Suzhou and Hangzhou.” Suzhou references the classical gardens, Hangzhou points to West Lake. West Lake consists of inner and outer lakes, connected by water but separated by the long Su Causeway—a series of six closely linked stone bridges of varied shapes. The outer lake is larger and dotted with three sparkling gems: Three Pools Mirroring the Moon, Xiaoying Isle, and the Lakeside Pavilion. The Three Pools Mirroring the Moon is considered West Lake’s premier scene, mainly due to three stone towers standing on the lake. Each over two meters tall, the towers have five stone holes through which light passes; on bright moonlit nights, one sees “moonlight mirrored threefold.”

At Lakeside Pavilion stands a stone stele inscribed with the characters “Chong Er,” said to be penned by Emperor Qianlong, subtly containing the phrase “Endless Wind and Moon,” inspired by his nocturnal visit to West Lake. Beyond these three attractions, the lakeside is adorned with numerous beautiful sights: Orioles Singing in the Willows, Viewing Fish at Flower Harbor, Autumn Moon over the Calm Lake, Broken Bridge and Remaining Snow.

After disembarking and crossing a gentle slope, glimpses of blue lake water appear through the treetops; advancing, the lake expands, fully revealing its vastness. Surrounded by towering mountains, the lake nestles within their embrace, water and peaks interdependent, majestic in presence. Rowboats dot the surface like stars in the sky. Suddenly, a streak of water arises from south to north—upon closer look, a speedboat races across the lake. Flocks of birds cry and soar above, composing a magnificent dynamic tableau.

In midsummer, we often row small boats into the deep lake. The boat ripples the blue waves, producing rhythmic “patter” sounds; ripples spread orderly behind us. Standing at the bow, we take in the lake’s beauty: winding clear water encircles clusters of verdant water plants, their slender stems like fairy hair flowing with the waves, stretching and curling, entwined with the water, playing with fish and shrimp. Far off, pink dots and green shadows mingle, and the scent of lotus boldly invades your senses, beckoning us to row faster into the lotus embrace. We anchor among the densest leaves and strongest fragrance, leaning over the bow and cabin. The lotus leaves, umbrella-sized, hide our bodies beneath their lush shade. A few bright blossoms and tender seed pods peek playfully, as if teasing us. The pond is small; the lively goldfish now rest quietly—perhaps asleep. At the center stands a marvel of mountain rockwork, more enchanting under moonlight, like a painting. The moon’s reflection on the dark pool bottom, washed by water, appears especially clear and profound, like Mona Lisa’s captivating eyes, stirring the heart.

A breeze stirs, tracing a faint green wave on the still pond, gently kissing the rock, producing soft metallic taps that echo serenely in the night... Changdang Lake, a delicate sister to Tai Lake, lies quietly on the treasured land of Jintan. Upon my first visit, an indistinct, indescribable affection arose. Distant skies are deep blue, without a cloud or bird, like a vast blue veil draping gently overhead. Nearby, the water is pale green, pure and lovely, free of debris. Even the playful fish seem reluctant to disturb the tranquility, diving to the bottom; the surface resembles a flawless gem, a pale green springtime meadow.

I drift on a small boat, unaware of traveling into the vast lake’s heart. Then I realize how beautiful the world is. Looking around, no trace of impurity appears—only enticing green everywhere. How can I describe this lovely green? Can the ornate words and elegant phrases in the “Cihai” dictionary compare? I eagerly scoop a handful of pure green water, gently sip it, finding it more fragrant than plum, sweeter than honey… I hold another handful close, feeling an incomparable lightness and uplifting spirit.

Xuanwu Lake’s water is so bright, like a giant, radiant green gem. A gentle breeze stirs ripples; under sunset’s glow, the water sparkles like fish scales, like shattered jade, refreshing the soul. Rising waves chase each other like laughing children, surging shoreward in rows, then retreating with mirth, endlessly repeating without weariness. Crystal droplets splash on my hand, cooling and invigorating. Standing on the shore, I see to the bottom, sometimes spotting small fish and shrimp swimming, signs of life that breathe vitality and mystery into the emerald water.

At dawn, under pale blue light, the reservoir is exceptionally still. Mist floats above the surface like a maiden veiled in gauze. Islands appear to hover in clouds and fog. From afar, the reservoir resembles a silver-gray ribbon winding into the distance... The lake is still like a clear mirror, reflecting blue sky, white clouds, red flowers, green trees; it is alive, with waves rising with the wind, sunlight dancing, accompanying my heart in chase and play; it is soft, with gentle breezes and rippling patterns like fluttering silk; it is hard, like flawless jade shining with beauty.

A quiet lake is lovely, but one in the rain is even more captivating. Fine spring rain drizzles endlessly, weaving a vast green “brocade” on the surface, embroidered with countless rings like flowers stitched by a beautiful maiden. Thunderstorms bring the lake to life: lightning flashes like fireworks; thunder roars as a grand event unfolds. When heavy rain falls, the celebration begins. Do you see the raindrops blooming on the lake’s surface? They are the jade flowers dancing atop the heads of goldfish maidens. Curious if the performance is splendid? The thunderous applause will tell you everything.

Nestled in mountains over 2,000 meters high, a deep blue lake suddenly appears, astonishing all. Nearby hills and pines reflect vividly; distant peaks wear white snowcaps, faint and elusive; sunset’s afterglow bathes the pure surface. Breezes cause shimmering waves, like thousands of fish frolicking. Ancient spruce forests cover the slopes, lush and dense; squirrels leap among branches, occasionally peering at us; fallen leaves carpet the forest floor, crackling softly underfoot, evoking gentle sensations. Oh, all this is like a masterful ink painting.

Qinghai Lake, formerly known as “West Lake,” is called “Cuonbo” in Tibetan, meaning “blue lake.” Oval in shape, longer east to west, it spans over 300 kilometers in circumference, covering 4,583 square kilometers at an elevation of 3,195 meters. Its scenery changes with seasons and weather: spring and summer bring green mountains and clear waters with birdsong; winter covers it with snow and ice; sunny days mirror the sky; cloudy days bring vast seas of clouds and crashing waves. From afar, Qinghai Lake shines like a massive blue sapphire; up close, it resembles an endless ocean.

At dawn, the lake is shrouded in white mist, blending with the sky so one cannot tell sky from water; at dusk, rosy light reflects on the surface, layered waves shining like a painter’s vibrant scroll; at night, moonlight casts its pure glow on calm waters, glimmering waves beneath starry skies, truly “the sky within the lake, the lake within the sky.” Bird Island, Haixi Mountain, Haixin Mountain, Sand Island, and Lone Finger Mountain (Three Stones) are five small islets like brilliant gems adorning the lake, adding color.

Fish species in Qinghai Lake are relatively few, mainly naked carp (locally called “Niyu”). Naked carp are scaleless, delicious, nutritious, and renowned. It takes about 11 to 12 years for a naked carp to grow to one jin (approximately half a kilogram), underscoring its preciousness. To protect this resource, the government has prohibited indiscriminate fishing.

Haixin Mountain covers nearly 1,000 square meters. Legend has it that it is famous for producing dragon foals; thus, it is also called Dragon Foal Island. The island is rugged, with rocks and wild grass. In midsummer, it is vibrant with red and green, birdsong and fragrant flowers; in winter, icy rocks create stunning scenery.

Bird Island lies near the western mouth of the Buha River in Qinghai Lake, covering only 0.4 square kilometers. Its fresh air, abundant food, and tranquil environment annually attract tens of thousands of migratory birds—bar-headed geese, gulls, brown-headed gulls, ruddy shelducks, swans, and more—earning it the title “Kingdom of Birds.” When you step into this realm, startled flocks take wing, their cries ringing far and wide. Occasionally, endangered species also come here; the state has established dedicated agencies for bird breeding and research.

Standing by East Lake, one gazes endlessly across its waters. The refreshing breeze, like mint, cools the spirit. Listening closely, the tinkling sounds of water are like a harpist plucking exquisite strings; one imagines the lively dance of the lake’s waves, stirring joyous hearts. The emerald water is clear and gentle, neither wild nor turbid, delicate and tender. I bend to scoop a handful, expecting it to stain my hand green, but it remains pure and transparent, slipping through my fingers with a crisp sound like jade struck on metal, then returning to its original crystal clarity, flowing softly onward.

North of the town, crossing the highway, majestic mountains rise, and the Tongshan Source Reservoir lies within a mountain gorge. Surrounded by lush forests heavy with fruit—crystal grapes, golden oranges, sweet, red persimmons—it resembles a giant jade platter. Numerous boats sail the surface: small wooden boats, motor sailboats, steamships… The dam stands as tall as a twenty-story building, a great gate holding back rushing waters. At the foot of East Mountain beside the reservoir lies a hydroelectric station, daily sending powerful currents to factories and villages.

The famed Wudalianchi resembles five lotus blossoms in bloom, their pools reflecting the blue sky like five mirrors of a fairy’s dressing table; or like five sparkling pearls set amid green plains and dense mountain foothills. Fish sails drift lazily on the water; a gentle breeze carries melodious fisher songs; oars break the mirror-like surface, leaving enchanting ripples... Suddenly, a sharp gunshot signals the floodgate’s opening. The towering gate rises slowly, releasing a slender, clear stream like delicate silk—bright, translucent, graceful as a maiden. As the gate lifts higher, the flow grows stronger, no longer gentle but raging—rushing, roaring, fiercely crashing against the first flood barrier. The dam attempts to block it, but the torrent leaps over, waves rising like triumphant smiles. Whitecaps surge irresistibly.

Some liken it to a flock of sheep bursting from grass; others to fast-moving clouds in the blue sky. No, it is neither weak sheep nor light clouds, but a soaring dragon leaping into a deep pool. The spray rises over ten feet, sparkling in sunlight like flying pearls and splashing jade, brilliant and colorful. It exudes boundless power and grandeur, sweeping away debris and muddy waters obstructing its path. The torrent rushes down the dam, broadening but maintaining its momentum. Floodwaters churn in the dam’s basin; streams race through the ravines. The mighty cascade stirs the soul and invigorates the spirit.

Climbing the lake embankment, one sees the water and sky as one, shimmering with light. Through clear water, green aquatic plants carpet the lakebed. Floating water chestnuts and elegant lotus leaves resemble blossoms on this green carpet. As girls sing nearby, a lotus-harvesting boat glides from the reeds, cleaving the calm surface. Fish leap energetically—perhaps startled by the oars or drawn by the songs.

I sit by the railing, barefoot, dipping my feet into the lake. The cool, gentle water kisses my skin, stirring a feeling of unity with nature. I realize Thousand-Island Lake’s waters are so affectionate, its breeze so fresh, its sunlight so bright, and its trees so verdant. I long to stay forever, accompanied by mountains and water, savoring this lakeside scenery daily in true leisure.

As the sun sets, the blood-red dusk paints half the sky; the lake’s face blushes like a shy maiden. The treed shore reveals distinct blue and green tones—blue recalling the clear sky, green evoking grasslands. The surrounding silence is profound; the green shades shift from light to deep, draped in pale mist that cloaks Thousand-Island Lake in mystery, yet the clear water remains open and honest. Here, I glimpse the power of green—so majestic it floods the eyes like a bursting dam, compelling admiration and awe.

Sailimu Lake, called “Sailimu Kule” in Kazakh, meaning “Lake of Blessings,” lies between the mountain ranges of the Ili Kazakh Autonomous Prefecture and the Bortala Mongol Autonomous Prefecture, over 2,000 meters above sea level. It is a renowned alpine lake in China, covering 120 square kilometers—much larger than Yining City. Its deepest point reaches over 90 meters; the lakebed features undulating hills. The water tastes sweet and pure; containing 0.2% mineral salts, a small sip refreshes the mind, quenches fire, and aids digestion.

Did you know? Sailimu Lake is ever-changing. According to physicist and meteorologist Zhu Kezhen, seven centuries ago, it was surrounded by ice peaks; today, vast grasslands stretch in all directions. Yet, based on recent water-level increases, perhaps in another seven centuries, it will again become a vast ocean.

Warm sunlight gently spills; brewing fragrant tea, I let the delicate freshness unfold, caressing the words on the page, each rhythmic sound guiding me to enchanted places, a nameless comfort spreading in my heart.

2. “Reading is like invisibly visiting others’ homes,” said Yang Jiang. Indeed, reading has brought me to many homes. I grasp hands with Yue Fei, shouting bravely, “With hunger, we feast on the Hu barbarians’ flesh; with thirst, we drink the Xiongnu blood,” declaring lofty ambitions. I gently pat the deeply wounded Liu Yong, walking with him along the “willow shore at dawn with the fading moon.” Having witnessed the grape wine and luminous cups of the western frontier, I laugh beneath the blue banner, selling pear blossom wine. I converse heartily with friends from across the land, raising cups in laughter. Gradually, I become intoxicated amidst the mountains of poetry and rivers of prose, merging with the books, lost without knowing the way home.

3. Since there is no need to return, exploring in reading offers unique flavors. Sinbad leads me to Solomon’s temple, past valleys where giant serpents coil, through worlds where whales roam; Jules Verne places me in a submarine journeying twenty thousand leagues to a mysterious island; by Cambridge’s gentle waves, I see the melancholic Little Prince earnestly questioning life. I pass beneath giants’ legs and witness countless small folk passing beneath mine. Oh, what a wondrous journey! Reading brings magic and surprise, walking alongside me.

4. As we proceed, a venerable figure named Knowledge joins our ranks. His body radiates wisdom’s light, illuminating my heart’s lamp through my eyes. I learn that towering giants can lean, unyielding steel may sink; some shield blades with their bodies for a circle, others crucify themselves for a bag of copper coins. Swimming in the sea of knowledge is like birds freely soaring in the sky. When thought speed is unleashed, even light cannot keep pace; yet reading and books resemble the perfect black hole, always drawing thoughts inward, amassing energy for a grand explosion. The clouds and moon of eight thousand miles enter deep into my soul through reading.

5. Suddenly looking up, sunlight still smiles upon me. I gently touch the tiny tadpoles in the book—those wonderful little spirits—savoring the reading experience in the rising tea fragrance, merging enjoyment and self.

6. In leisure, brewing tea amid wisps of mist, I cradle a book—sipping tea, inhaling the book’s aroma, savoring every word and phrase repeatedly. This is my greatest pastime. Some say reading is an art. Indeed, it truly is so.

7. Reading is an art of enjoying life. The Five Willows Gentleman “loved reading without seeking deep understanding; whenever a meaning arose, he joyfully forgot to eat.” When bored or troubled, reading uplifts the spirit; when lost or melancholy, it calms the heart and clarifies the path; when joyful, it reveals more beauty around, enhancing life’s pleasures. Reading is the most beautiful enjoyment. “In books lie golden mansions, in books, beauties like jade.”

8. Reading is an art of self-cultivation. “Jade must be carved to become a gem; man must learn to know.” Reading is a learning journey. Each book tells a story; each story narrates a life; each life reflects a world. “Read ten thousand books, travel ten thousand miles” expresses this truth. Poetry refines elegance; history imparts wisdom. Each book offers distinct gains. Since ancient times, diligence in reading—“hanging the beam, piercing the thigh,” “reading by firefly light”—has been life’s pursuit. Reading is the most elegant quality, shaping the spirit and elevating thought.

9. Reading is an art to enrich life. Life without books is like hollow bamboo—empty and void. Books are life’s greatest treasure. Jews teach children to kiss honeyed books, so they remember: books are sweet; to fill life with sweetness, read! Reading is life’s rarest savings account, accumulating bit by bit, making you the richest person alive.

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10. Reading is an art of perceiving life. Reading Du Fu’s poems reveals life’s hardships; Li Bai’s poetry unveils official corruption; Lu Xun’s essays expose societal darkness; Ba Jin’s writings inspire hope for the future. Each book is a friend, teaching us how to view life. Reading is a vital life lesson, helping us tread well each step.

11. Books are lamps, illuminating the path ahead; books are bridges, connecting distant shores; books are sails, propelling the ship of life. Reading is an art of life; because of reading, life becomes more splendid!

12. It is a charming afternoon; you sit by the window, reading a hefty old book. Afternoon black tea emits rich sweetness; your old dog lies lazily by your feet. Sunlight bathes your silhouette in gold, mingling with this languid time to become a memory.

13. This is your solitary memory, like a dewdrop resting on your fingertip at dawn—its fragrance sensed but elusive, beyond grasp or words. See, reading is just such a feeling.

14. Sometimes, reading feels like embracing the whole world; you are no longer just yourself but an observer, like a seasoned minstrel, watching all unfold. Stories begin, rise, twist, and conclude. You collect them, weaving them into songs—sometimes bright, sometimes sad—to be softly sung. Reading brings you life, flavor, and realm. Then, you become an open-hearted elder, calmly observing life’s joys and sorrows.

Perhaps life is but a waning moon in quiet night—seemingly cold and incomplete, yet always full, a distant star quietly turning. Of course, sometimes you plunge in, inevitably swayed by fate, engulfed by passions and desires—because we all need love and hate; none escape. You read intently, breath held, lost in the thrill of life; it draws you into a wild run. The wind whistles past your ears; rationality fades. You cast off life’s masks, shouting and charging like a child, unrestrained. You even boldly blame fate’s injustice, condemn society’s darkness, hardship, and frailty.

15. At that moment, you cry freely, tears wetting the pages, realizing you are merely reading another’s story. Yet why do you see your own image there, feeling so vividly alive and real? At that instant, you surrender your entire emotion without regret.

16. Long after, picking up the book again, recalling that feeling, you shake your head in confusion. Perhaps you have forgotten why you were so moved.

17. This is reading: never seeking gain, without plan or pressure—just vaguely savoring life. You cry, laugh, hate, love. You have read, then forgotten, turning back to chaotic reality. Reading ignites your feelings: you read joy because you are joyful; you read sorrow because you are sad.

18. Such is reading, such is life—capturing a fleeting bloom, life shines like summer flowers.

19. Since humans separated from animal ignorance, first came language, then writing, then literature, and finally books. Sometimes, thinking of this long process stirs awe—without it, there would be no reading, a loss unbearable today!

20. Yet, though everyone depends on reading, its realms differ widely by perspective.

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21. One realm is reading for exams and fame. I see this as “low quality” because it is no longer true pursuit of knowledge, nor genuine joy. When readers’ eyes gleam only with profit and status, all knowledge becomes mere stepping stones to open doors, then discarded—a desecration of knowledge, is it not? This form of reading is evidenced by imperial exam candidates of old and today’s countless examinees—college entrance, graduate, certification, civil service exams—straining with furrowed brows, clutching “sacred texts” before exams. Such reading is a nightmare in life—painful, joyless. Few escape this “painful reading,” a form of alienation.

22. Another realm is reading to exhaust knowledge and truth. This is “high quality,” breaking free from personal gain, driven by human curiosity. Countless scientific giants, ancient and modern, have tirelessly pursued questions; some rare polymaths cross disciplines, exploring mysteries of world and life through reading. This autonomous, conscious reading makes them brave travelers and explorers on the quest for truth. We owe them deep respect. I would say those who reach this realm are truly blessed.

23. Yet Zhuangzi said, “Life is finite, but knowledge is infinite. Pursuing the infinite with the finite is perilous.” This is a partial truth. So, in my eyes, the second realm is “high quality” but not “supreme.” The supreme realm is desireless reading—a spiritual stroll, a soul’s ramble. Such readers seek neither wealth nor knowledge nor moral lessons to save the world. They see kindness and beauty in books; they are moved by brilliance, weep at happiness. They always need reading but desire nothing from it; reading fills and calms them. Reading supplies spiritual air and food, transcending material and worldly life.

24. The three realms of reading may look alike outwardly but differ profoundly in spirit. Ultimately, I must admit that which is higher or lower depends on one’s view; “low,” “high,” and “supreme” may be reversed in different hearts.

25. Listen to nature: the rhythm of pine waves; the murmuring autumn insects; the plaintive cries of cuckoos.

26. Listen to the soul: tender warmth, blazing passion, kind greetings of a pure heart.

27. Listen to the book’s voice: the graceful words of Qu Yuan, Tao Yuanming, Li Bai, Du Fu—fresh and bright; the brilliant prose of Xu Zhimo and Eileen Chang—dreamy and tender; the vibrant personalities and human insights of Han Han and Annie Baobei.

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