Chapter 124: Picking the Lock?

Nature. The pool remains as calm as a mirror, clearly reflecting the flickering bonfire, the shifting flames, and the jade-like moon in the azure sky. The sun has already set, but its light reflects from beneath the clouds, casting a crimson glow upon the lake. The surface seems to burn, and everything around it loses its original color, submerged in this red radiance. Suddenly, my eyes brighten, and I hasten forward. It is a clear, man-made lake—a vast mirror in the countryside, reflecting the blue sky and white clouds. The water is crystalline; a gentle breeze stirs it into ripples, shimmering with golden light. With a soft "chirp," a swallow flies over, its pointed tail skimming the surface and stirring a ripple into a circular halo. A line from Li Bai’s poem praises the Jinci waters as being "like jasper," and I find this scene, drifting in the reflected light, to be dreamlike.

At this moment, Dongting Lake is calm and vast, like a poetic realm. Fish swim to the surface; some blow strings of bubbles, others chase and play, some use lotus leaves as tiny umbrellas for hide-and-seek, and others follow their mothers, swimming leisurely to and fro. The withered lotus stalks in the pool before the door suddenly tremble violently, followed by the lively splashing of red carp, breaking the deathly stillness of the water. On the lake, the surface is unruffled, and the boat seems to glide upon a sheet of glass. The rippling water, like fine patterns on silk, is smooth, tender, and green. Looking into the distance, the color deepens, gradually turning to a dark, lush emerald. Gazing up at the sky, clouds move leisurely; looking down into the heart of the lake, there is another sky, with the shadows of clouds wandering. The peaks on both banks stand inverted in the water, a uniform green, accompanying travelers with tender affection. Just as one reaches the end, a turn reveals the same mountains and the same water. One yearns for a change, yet after traveling one hundred and twenty miles, the scenery remains unchanged. Compared to the turbulent Dongting Lake, Jingpo Lake is calm and serene; compared to the vast, rounded expanse of Taihu Lake, Jingpo Lake is more like a river without a ripple. Compared to it, Daming Lake is but a pool of clear water, and the West Lake is like a beautiful young woman with "the charm of spring hills and the focused gaze of autumn waters," while the other is like a plain, natural, and chaste maiden.

Looking out, the water shines brilliantly, dotted with sails, and the small islands in the lake are like pieces of jasper inlaid in the landscape, appearing truly enchanting. The lake is far too tempting, especially in such sweltering heat. I approach the shore, and the oppressive curtain of heat vanishes. The water oscillates, flashing as if a layer of gold had been applied to its surface. My hands cannot resist, and I gently reach into the water. Ah! That refreshing, soul-stirring sensation is beyond description. Ripples gently caress the white marble pool wall; the swaying autumn water flows back and forth beneath the "Fish-Watching Bridge." Those small green islands are like pearls set upon the lake, or at first glance, like green waves rolling among the clouds. Dotted with colorful sails, the Thousand Island Lake, surrounded by green trees, appears so graceful. Looking down at the clear water, the ripples stirred by the wind resemble lace, appearing and disappearing. Listening to the pine waves, low and melodious, they evoke reveries as deep as legends; the slender, pure white reeds swaying in the wind reveal their unique charm, so delicate one cannot bear to touch them.

As the sun sets, the blood-red afterglow dyes half the sky, and the lake blushes like the face of a shy maiden. Tucked against the ridge is a reservoir surrounded by great mountains; the water is as green as a cat's eye, inspiring a sense of awe. Looking down at Lu Lake from the Hongque Pavilion, one sees exquisite little pavilions on the surface; the water is emerald and rippling, with golden sunlight scattered across it, truly resembling thousands of sparkling, brilliant gems. Ah, the water of Peach Blossom Pond is so green, as if it were a flawless emerald. The rippling autumn water brings a hint of coolness. Look! On the pond, a few withered lotus leaves are scattered; their edges have turned yellow, yet crystal-clear water droplets hide mischievously upon them. Beneath the lotus, red goldfish swim leisurely. The maple trees on both sides cast mottled shadows—yellow, green, red, white, and black!

The spring pond is beautiful in its "stillness"—so still that one feels it is not a pool of water, but a meadow—a lush, crystalline, green meadow. The blue sky, green trees, and white clouds all leave their lovely shadows in its embrace, with a trace of meditation seeping into the quiet, turquoise waves. Because of this eternal tranquility, it is extraordinarily clear: the fish and sand at the bottom are revealed without concealment—naturally, these are not the eyes of a recluse, but a pair of eyes burning with the fire of hope. The spring pond is also beautiful in its "motion." It is like a shifting piece of green silk, so beautiful, so pure. Under the sunlight, ripples leap up like flying petals and shattered gold. Each tiny spot of light holds a little spirit, flickering, expanding, and trembling. When a breeze blows, ripples form, slowly advancing from one side to the other. Then, one by one... the once-clear boundaries on the surface, like a line of pale ink on rice paper, gradually diffuse under the hazy, veil-like mist, eventually becoming somewhat blurred.

The desert is monotonous and lonely, yet it is so vast and open, allowing one to ride the wild horse of thought across this expansive space. In the evening, Sayram Lake gradually turns a deep blue, with the sky and lake merging into one; it is impossible to tell if the sky has dyed the lake blue or if the lake has dyed the sky. At noon, under the brilliant sun, Sayram Lake is like a shimmering piece of silk, with green grass, red flowers, white sheep, yellow cattle, gray camels, and golden horses drifting by the lake like colorful clouds.

Thousand Island Lake is not a natural lake; after the construction of the Xin'an River Hydropower Station, an artificial lake of 860,000 mu was formed upstream, equivalent to the area of more than 100 West Lakes. Because the spring rain pool is no less than the Nanlao Spring: the spring water is flowing and hard to form into a piece of jasper, but this pool water is quiet, soft, and beautiful, like an emerald. The lake is so green that it seems as if someone has draped a veil as thin as a cicada's wing over it, making one afraid to breathe deeply, for fear of breaking it. The rippling ancient lake sparkles in the sunlight, and the graceful willow branches are like the washed hair of a maiden. The water level has risen by nearly 100 meters; some mountain peaks have submerged, while others have become islands in the emerald water. These islands are the mountains I saw earlier standing in the water. There are 1,078 such islands of various sizes on the lake, hence the name "Thousand Island Lake."

The broad lake surface passes through the jade-colored Seventeen-Arch Bridge, extending its arms far to embrace the blue sky, finally melting into the faint clouds and mist. In the crisp autumn, looking into the distance, one sees shimmering water ripples everywhere, pushing wave upon wave toward the shore and lapping against the stones. The water carries a chill, as if it had been clarified; the deep colors settle at the bottom, and the swirling water mist dances with the autumn wind, rotating and soaring leisurely and unconstrainedly.

West Lake is located in the west of Hangzhou City, Zhejiang Province, covering an area of about 5.6 square kilometers. Because of its charming scenery and secluded environment, it has been a famous tourist destination since ancient times. People say, "There is heaven above, and Suzhou and Hangzhou below." Suzhou refers to the Suzhou gardens, and Hangzhou refers to this West Lake. West Lake consists of an inner and outer lake, connected by water, separated by the long Su Causeway. Though called a causeway, it is actually six closely connected stone bridges of various shapes. The outer lake is larger than the inner one, and it is dotted with three shimmering pearls: Three Pools Mirroring the Moon, the Lesser Yingzhou, and the Mid-Lake Pavilion. Three Pools Mirroring the Moon is considered the foremost of the West Lake's sights, mainly because of the three stone pagodas standing in the lake. The two-meter-tall pagodas have holes on all five sides to let light through; on a bright moonlit night, one can see the marvelous scene of "the moon reflected in the pool, the shadow divided into three." On the Mid-Lake Pavilion stands a stone tablet inscribed with the two characters "Chong Er." It is said to have been inscribed by Emperor Qianlong, implying the four characters "boundless wind and moon," reflecting his feelings during a night cruise on the West Lake. In addition to the three sights on the lake, there are many other beautiful scenes along the shore, such as Willow Orioles Singing in the Breezes, Viewing Fish at Flower Harbor, Autumn Moon over the Calm Lake, and Lingering Snow on the Broken Bridge.

We get off the bus, climb over a slope, and catch a glimpse of the blue lake through the gaps in the treetops. As we move forward, the lake grows larger, and gradually, the entire surface reveals itself to us. The high mountains on all four sides embrace the lake, with mountains and water supporting each other in magnificent grandeur. The speedboats on the lake are like stars scattered in the center. Suddenly, a ribbon of water is stirred from south to north; looking closely, it is a speedboat racing across the surface. Flocks of birds soar and cry above the lake from time to time, forming a magnificent, dynamic picture.

In midsummer, we often row small boats into the deep lake. The boat ripples through the green waves, making a rhythmic "slap-slap" sound, and circles of ripples spread out in an orderly fashion as we move. At this moment, those of us standing at the bow take in the beautiful face of the lake: winding clear water, winding clear water, surrounding the lush green water grass. Strands of water grass sway like a fairy's hair, extending and curling, entangled with the lake water and teasing the fish and shrimp. In the distance, pink dots and patches of green shade appear, and the scent of lotus drifts directly into your nostrils, tempting us to row faster into the embrace of the lotus. We park the boat where the lotus leaves are densest and the fragrance is strongest, then lie on the bow and in the cabin. The lotus leaves are as large as umbrella covers, hiding our bodies in their thick, green shade. A few bright lotus flowers and tender little lotus pods peek out, as if teasing us. The pond is small, and the goldfish, usually lively, are now staying quietly there, perhaps asleep. In the middle of the pond is a piece of mountain rock sculpted by nature, which, under the moonlight, becomes even more intriguing and picturesque. The moon reflects on the dark green bottom of the pool, washed by the water, appearing exceptionally clear and distant, like the enchanting eyes of the Mona Lisa, captivating the soul. A breeze brushes by, drawing a pale green ripple on the calm pool; the water ripples slightly, kissing the mountain rock with a faint metallic clatter, appearing exceptionally gentle in the quiet night...

Changdang Lake, as a delicate younger sister of Taihu Lake, lies quietly on the treasure land of Jintan. When I first came to Changdang Lake, I felt a hazy, indescribable sense of affection. In the distance, the sky is blue, without a single cloud or bird, like a giant blue silk scarf gently draped over it. Nearby, the water is light green, so pure and lovely, with not a speck of debris. Even the playful little fish seem reluctant to break this quiet green and swim to the bottom. The surface is like a flawless gem, a pale green early spring pasture. I place myself in a small boat and let it drift, and before I know it, I find myself in the vast center of the lake. Only then do I realize that the world is so beautiful. Looking around, I cannot see any discordant colors, only an enticing green everywhere. How can I describe this lovely green? Can the flowery words and beautiful sentences in the *Cihai* dictionary compare to this green before my eyes? I passionately reach out my hands, cup a handful of pure, green water, and gently bring it to my lips, finding it more fragrant than plum blossoms and sweeter than honey... I cup another handful of pure green to my heart, feeling an incomparable lightness and a surge of spirit.

Xuanwu Lake's water is so clear and bright, it is like a giant, glittering green gem. A breeze brushes over the surface, raising layers of ripples; under the setting sun, the lake glitters like fish scales and shattered jade, refreshing the mind. The rising waves, like children chasing and playing, rush toward the shore in rows, then retreat with laughter. This cycle never grows tiresome. Crystal-clear droplets splash onto my hands, bringing a hint of coolness and invigorating the spirit. Standing on the shore, one can see to the bottom; sometimes one can even see small fish and shrimp swimming, making one feel that life exists in this green water, bringing vitality and a sense of mystery to the lake.

At dawn, under the pale blue light, the reservoir is strangely quiet. A faint mist floats on the surface, like a maiden wearing a light veil. The islands in the water seem to float in the clouds. Looking at the reservoir from afar, it resembles a silver-gray silk ribbon, winding away into the distance... The lake is quiet, like a bright mirror, clearly reflecting the blue sky, white clouds, red flowers, and green trees; the lake is alive, with layers of scale-like waves rising with the wind, accompanying the jumping sunlight and my heart, chasing and playing; the lake is soft, with gentle breezes and rippling waves, like a piece of silk dancing in the wind; the lake is hard, like a flawless emerald flashing with beautiful luster. The quiet lake is lovely, but the lake in the rain is even more moving. The silk-like spring rain falls, weaving and weaving, creating a large piece of green "brocade" on the lake, with endless circles on the "brocade," like flowers embroidered by a beautiful girl.

When the thunderstorm comes, the lake is at its liveliest. Listen, a flash of light in the sky—that is the opening fireworks. The "rumble" of the salute sounds, and the meeting is about to begin. Once the heavy rain falls, the party begins immediately. Do you see the raindrops competing to bloom on the lake? Those are the jade flowers on the heads of the dancing goldfish girls; do you want to know if the program is exciting? The "applause" of thunder will tell you everything.

In the embrace of mountains over 2,000 meters above sea level, the sudden appearance of such a deep green lake is truly astonishing. Looking closely, the pool reflects the surrounding ridges and pine trees, with distinct shades of light and dark; looking into the distance, the white snow crowns on the peaks are visible and hidden; the afterglow of the sunset spills onto the clear water. Where the breeze passes, the light ripples, just like thousands of fish churning; on the hillside is an ancient spruce forest, lush and green; little squirrels jump between the branches, looking at us from time to time; the fallen leaves in the forest are inches thick, rustling when stepped on, giving a soft feeling. Oh, all of this is simply a superb ink painting.

Qinghai Lake was called "West Lake" in ancient times, and "Tso Ngonpo" in Tibetan, meaning "Blue Lake." The lake is oval, slightly longer from east to west, with a circumference of over 300 kilometers, an area of 4,583 square kilometers, and an altitude of 3,195 meters. With the changes of seasons and weather, the scenery of Qinghai Lake varies. In spring and summer, the mountains are green and the water is clear, with hundreds of birds singing; in the depths of winter, it is covered in white snow, and the lake is frozen; on sunny days, the blue sky is like a mirror, and the water and sky are one color; on cloudy days, the sea of clouds is vast, and the waves crash with sound. Looking at Qinghai Lake from afar, it is like a huge sapphire shining with brilliant light; looking closely, it is like a boundless ocean. In the morning, Qinghai Lake is shrouded in white fog, merging with the sky, making it impossible to tell where the sky ends and the water begins; in the evening, the sunset rays cast onto the lake, reflecting the layered ripples, just like a painter unfolding a magnificent colorful ink painting for you; at night, the moon spills its bright light onto the calm surface, the lake ripples, and the stars are reflected in the water—truly, there is a sky in the lake, and the sky is in the lake.

Bird Island, Haixi Mountain, Haixin Mountain, Sand Island, and Guzhi Mountain (Three Stones) are five small islands like five brilliant pearls inlaid in the lake, adding color to Qinghai Lake. The types of fish in Qinghai Lake are relatively simple, mainly producing naked carp (commonly known as Nie fish). Naked carp are scaleless, delicious, and nutritious, well-known far and wide. It takes about 11 to 12 years for a naked carp to grow from a fry to one jin, showing the preciousness of the naked carp. To rationally utilize the naked carp resources, the government has taken measures to prohibit indiscriminate fishing. Haixin Mountain in the lake has an area of nearly 1,000 square meters. Legend has it that it is famous for producing "Dragon Colts," so it is also called Dragon Colt Island. The island is rugged with strange rocks and overgrown with weeds. In midsummer, it is covered in red and green, with birds singing and flowers fragrant; in the depths of winter, the ice rocks are towering, and the scenery is very beautiful. Bird Island is located near the Buha River mouth in the west of Qinghai Lake, with an area of only 0.4 square kilometers. Because the air on the island is fresh, food is abundant, and the environment is elegant, it attracts nearly 100,000 migratory birds of 11 species, such as bar-headed geese, brown-headed gulls, ruddy shelducks, and whooper swans, to inhabit and raise their young here every year. It is known as the "Kingdom of Birds." When you step into the Kingdom of Birds, birds fly in alarm, and the sound carries for miles. The country has established special agencies here to be responsible for the breeding and research of birds.

Standing by East Lake, looking far away, one cannot see the edge of the lake. The cool, peppermint-like breeze blowing in the face makes one feel refreshed and clear-headed. Listening to the tinkling sound of the lake water, it is like a musician plucking wonderful strings; one seems to see the lively, jumping shadow of the lake water, evoking a sense of joy. Looking at this green lake water, it is so emerald, not wild, not muddy, delicate and warm. I cannot help but bend down to cup a handful of water, thinking it will surely dye my hands green, but it is just colorless and clear, dripping from between my fingers into the lake, as crisp as ice hitting a jade plate, and then it immediately returns to its original color—crystal clear, soft, and murmuring as it flows into the distance.

To the north of the town, across the road, are the towering mountains, and in the mountain gorge lies the Tongshanyuan Reservoir. The reservoir is surrounded by mountains, with lush trees and heavy fruit on the branches: crystal-like grapes, yellow oranges, and sweet, red persimmons... At a glance, it looks like a giant jade plate. There are many boats on the water: small wooden boats, motorboats, steamboats... The dam is twenty stories high, like a giant gate blocking the surging water. At the foot of East Mountain by the reservoir is a hydroelectric power station, which transmits powerful electricity to factories and villages every day.

The world-famous Five Great Lakes are like five lotus flowers on the same stalk, with the surface reflecting the blue sky, like five mirrors for a fairy to dress; or like five crystal-clear fiery pearls, inlaid in the emerald plains and at the foot of the lush green mountains. Dotted with fishing sails, the surface of the lakes sends forth melodious fishing songs with the breeze, and the oars break the blue fairy mirror, creating charming light waves... Suddenly, with a "pop" of a gunshot, the overflow time arrives. I see the high sluice gate slowly rising, and suddenly a clear, smooth trickle gently pokes its head out, as bright and clear as soft silk, with a bit of a maiden's grace. The gate opens higher and higher, and the water flow becomes larger and larger. It does not flow as gently as before, but becomes angry: it surges, roars, and violently rushes toward the first flood-control dam. The dam attempts to block its path, but the torrent leaps up and crosses it. The waves are like the triumphant smiles of victors, held high. The white waves roll, unstoppable. Some describe it as a flock of sheep suddenly appearing in the grass, others as white clouds surging rapidly in the blue sky. No, it is not as weak as a flock of sheep, nor as frivolous as white clouds, but like a soaring dragon leaping into a deep pool. The thousands of splashes stirred up, turning into water mist more than a zhang high, glitter like flying pearls and splashing jade under the sunlight, colorful and brilliant. It is full of infinite power, showing a magnificent spirit, daring to sweep away the debris, mud, and dirty water that block its progress. The torrent leaps down the dam and becomes wider, but still maintains its momentum of surging forward. The floodwater in the dam rolls, and the torrent in the stream surges. The momentum of rushing thousands of miles is breathtaking and invigorating.

Climbing up to the lake embankment, one sees the water and sky as one, with sparkling waves. Through the clear lake water, one can see the green water grass at the bottom like a carpet. The water caltrops and upright lotus leaves floating on the surface are like flowers on that green carpet! With the girls' singing, a lotus-picking boat rows out from the reeds, plowing the calm lake. The fish jump, not knowing if it was the sound of the small oars or the girls' singing that attracted them. I sit by the railing, stretching my bare feet into the lake. The cool, soft water licks my feet, and a feeling of having merged with nature surges in my heart, making me feel that the water of Thousand Island Lake is so affectionate, the wind so fresh, the sunlight so bright, and the trees so green. I truly want to stay here forever, with the mountains as companions and the water as a dragon, enjoying this lake and mountain scenery every day—that would truly be leisure and freedom.

As the sun sets, the blood-red afterglow dyes half the sky, and the lake blushes like the face of a shy maiden. The lake surface, covered by green trees, is clearly divided into blue and green. Blue makes you think of the clear sky; green reminds you of the grassland. The surroundings are strangely quiet. The green shifts from light to dark, from dark to light, and a light gray mist covers Thousand Island Lake, making it unfathomable, yet the clear lake is so open. I see the charm of green here—it is so majestic. Before you can react, it has already surged into your eyes like a burst dam, making you infected and captivated by its spirit and vitality!

Sayram Lake is called "Sayram Kul" in the Kazakh language, meaning "Lake of Wishes." It is located between the mountains connecting the Ili Kazakh Autonomous Prefecture and the Bortala Mongol Autonomous Prefecture, at an altitude of over 2,000 meters, and is a famous alpine lake in our country. The lake covers an area of 120 square kilometers, much larger than Yining City! The deepest part of the lake is over 90 meters, and there are rolling mountains at the bottom. The water is clear and sweet, and because it contains 0.2% salt minerals, drinking a small amount can refresh the heart, clear the fire, and aid digestion. Do you know? Sayram Lake is constantly changing. According to the research of physical meteorologist Zhu Kezhen, 700 years ago, it was still a field of ice peaks. Today, the beautiful Sayram Lake is surrounded by endless grasslands. However, based on the speed of the lake's water increase over the years, perhaps in another 700 years, it will become a vast ocean again.

The warm sunlight spills down gently. I brew a pot of fragrant tea, and in the wisps of freshness, I gently let the pages of the book unfold, stroking the characters, allowing the leaping rhythms to guide me to various promised lands. An indescribable comfort spreads within my heart.

2. "Reading is like 'visiting' invisibly," Yang Jiang once said. Reading has indeed led me into the homes of many people. I shake hands with Yue Fei and together we shout out the heroic words: "With high ambitions, I hunger for the meat of the barbarians; laughing and chatting, I thirst for the blood of the Xiongnu." I gently pat the heartbroken Liu Yong, walking with him along the "willow banks at dawn with the fading moon." I see the grape wine and luminous cups on the Western frontier, and laugh while buying pear blossom wine under the green flag. I chat heart-to-heart with friends from all over the world, raising our glasses in laughter together. Gradually, I become drunk in the mountains of poetry and rivers of words, beginning to slowly merge with books, truly intoxicated and forgetting the way home.

3. Since I do not know the way home, there is no need to return. Exploring through reading has a unique flavor. Sinbad leads me to visit Solomon's temple, detour around the valley where giant pythons coil, and pass through the end of the world where giant whales haunt; Jules Verne puts me in a submarine to travel twenty thousand leagues and brings me to a mysterious island; in the gentle waves of Cambridge, I see the melancholic Little Prince desperately asking questions. I walk under the legs of countless giants, and countless little people walk under mine. Oh, what a wonderful journey. Reading brings magic and surprise to my side one by one, letting me travel with them.

4. As I walk, an old man named Knowledge joins our ranks. The light of wisdom shining from him passes through my eyes, as if lighting a lamp in my heart. I learn that magnificent towers can lean, and invincible steel can sink; some people have blocked sharp blades with their bodies for a circle, and others have nailed their lives to the cross for a bag of copper coins. Swimming in the ocean of knowledge is like a bird gliding freely in the sky. Once the speed of thought is released, not even light runs faster; but reading and books are like the perfect black hole, always able to lead thinking to them, accumulating within, preparing for the most magnificent eruption. The clouds and moon of eight thousand miles all enter the depths of my soul through reading.

5. Suddenly looking up, the sunlight is still smiling, coming toward me. I gently touch those little tadpoles on the book, those wonderful little spirits, relishing the reading experience in the curling tea fragrance, letting enjoyment and I become one.

6. In my leisure time, I brew a pot of tea, pick up a book amidst the wisps of light mist, tasting the tea and smelling the book, chewing repeatedly, savoring every word, every sentence—this is my greatest pleasure in my spare time. Some people say that reading is an art. Yes, reading is indeed so.

7. Reading is an art of enjoying life. Mr. Five Willows "loved to read, did not seek deep understanding, and whenever he had a realization, he was happy and forgot to eat." When you are bored and depressed, reading can make you happy; when you are lost and sorrowful, reading can calm your heart and let you see the road ahead; when you are in a good mood, reading can make you discover more beautiful things around you and let you enjoy life more. Reading is the most beautiful enjoyment. "There is a golden house in books, and there is a face as beautiful as jade in books."

8. Reading is an art of self-improvement. "If jade is not cut, it will not become a vessel; if a person does not learn, they will not know the way." Reading is a process of learning. A book has a story, a story narrates a life, and a life reflects a world. "Read ten thousand books, travel ten thousand miles" is exactly this truth. Reading poetry makes one elegant, reading history makes one wise. Every book has different gains. "Binding hair to the beam and pricking the thigh with an awl," "reflecting the snow through the window"—since ancient times, diligent reading and self-improvement have been every person's lifelong pursuit. Reading is the most elegant quality that can shape a person's spirit and sublimate their thoughts.

9. Reading is an art of enriching life. A life without books is like a hollow bamboo, empty and void. Books are the greatest wealth in life. The Jewish people have their children kiss books coated with honey to remind them: books are sweet, and to fill life with sweetness, one must read. Reading is the most rare bankbook in life; accumulating little by little, you will find that you are the richest person in the world.

10. Reading is an art of sensing life. Reading Du Fu's poems makes one sense the bitterness of life, reading Li Bai's poems makes one understand the corruption of officialdom, reading Lu Xun's articles makes one recognize the darkness of society, and reading Ba Jin's articles makes one feel the hope of the future. Every book is a friend that teaches us how to look at life. Reading is an indispensable lesson in life; reading books and sensing life helps us walk every step of life well.

11. Books are lamps, and reading illuminates the road ahead; books are bridges, and reading connects the shores; books are sails, and reading pushes the ship of life. Reading is an art of life; because of reading, life is more wonderful!

12. It is a charming afternoon, and you are sitting by the window reading a thick, old book. The afternoon black tea exudes a rich sweetness, your old dog lies lazily at your feet, and the sunlight tans your silhouette into a golden yellow, mixing with this lazy time, brewing into memory.

13. This is your own memory, like a dewdrop caught on your fingertip in the early morning; you smell its fragrance, but cannot grasp it, cannot describe it. Look, reading is just like this. It is just a feeling.

14. Sometimes, as you read, you seem to embrace the whole world. You are not just yourself; you can observe, like a world-weary wandering poet, watching everything happen before your eyes. The story begins, rises, turns, and finally falls. You collect them, write them into songs that are either light or sad, and pass them on. As you read, you read about life, read about a flavor, and read out a state of mind. At that time, you are like an open-minded old man, calmly watching the joys and sorrows of life. Perhaps life is just a crescent moon in the quiet night; seemingly cold and incomplete, but actually, it has always been full—it is just a distant planet spinning silently. Of course, sometimes you will indulge in it, inevitably being manipulated by fate, occupied by the seven emotions and six desires—this is because we need love, we need hate, and no one can be exempt from custom. You read attentively, so tense that you almost forget to breathe—isn't this the excitement of life, pulling you to run wildly? You are led by a mood, running blindly forward; the wind whistles in your ears. At this moment, reason is submerged, and you throw away the mask of life. Like a child, you shout, collide, and act without scruples, truly and frankly. You even bravely blame fate for its unfairness, rebuking the darkness, obscurity, bitterness, and weakness of this society.

15. At that moment, you cry uncontrollably, tears wetting the pages, and only then do you realize you were just reading someone else's story. But why do you see your own shadow there, and why do you feel you are living so vividly, so truly? At a certain moment, you gave all your emotion to it, without regret.

16. A long time later, when you pick up that book again and recall the feeling at that time, you shake your head in confusion. You may have already forgotten why you were so moved.

17. This is reading; you never selfishly wanted to get anything from it, no premeditation, no pressure, you just vaguely tasted life there. You cry, you laugh, you hate, you love. You have read it, then you forget, turn around, and return to the busy reality. Reading is triggered by your emotion at that moment; because you are happy, you read happiness; because you are sad, you read sadness.

18. Reading is like this, life is like this. Grasp a blooming moment, and life will be as brilliant as summer flowers.

19. Since humanity separated from the ignorant animal world, there has been language, then characters, then articles, and finally books—sometimes, when I think of this long process, I cannot help but feel a thrill, because without this process, there would be no "reading," and today, this is a loss that is unbearable!

20. However, although everyone cannot live without reading, the state of reading varies in level according to different opinions.

21. One state is to seek fame for exams. This kind of reading, in my opinion, is "low-grade" because it can no longer be considered true knowledge-seeking, and of course, there is no true happiness to speak of. When fame and fortune are always shining in the eyes of the reader, any knowledge is forced to become a "stepping stone"; once the door to fame is knocked open, it is inevitably abandoned, and can this not be considered a blasphemy against knowledge? This kind of reading is evidenced by the imperial examination scholars of the past, and today by the Chinese people who rush to take various exams—college entrance exams, postgraduate exams, qualification exams, and civil service exams. Do you not see the various candidates sitting or standing outside the exam hall, frowning and studying the "scriptures" before each exam? This kind of reading is better described as a nightmare in the reader's life, with only pain and no happiness. However, few people in this life can avoid this "painful reading," which must be said to be a form of alienation.

22. Another state of reading is to exhaust knowledge and truth. This kind of reading can be classified as "high-grade" because it has broken free from one's own fame and fortune and originates from humanity's great curiosity. How many giants of science, past and present, have exhausted their wisdom and studied diligently to investigate a certain problem? There are even rare "polymaths" who dabble in multiple disciplines at the same time, exploring the mysteries of the world and life in their reading. This is automatic, autonomous, and conscious "reading." On the road to exhausting knowledge and truth, they are brave travelers and explorers; we have no reason not to show them deep respect. I would even say that those who can enter this state have already attained the blessings of life.

23. However, Zhuangzi said: "Life is finite, while knowledge is infinite. To follow the infinite with the finite is dangerous." This is not a "partial truth." Therefore, in my eyes, although the second state mentioned above is "high-grade," it cannot reach the "supreme" state. Reading that can be called "supreme" is reading without desire, a walk of the heart, and a wandering of the soul. Such readers not only have no desire to seek wealth from books, but no pursuit of excavating treasures of knowledge, and even less of an impulse to distill moral maxims to save the world. He sees kindness and beauty in books; he is moved by the brilliance in books and cries for the happiness in books. He always needs to read, but has no demands from "reading"—only because of reading is he fulfilled and peaceful. "Reading" gives him spiritual air and food, and he thus transcends material and realistic life.

24. The three states of reading have similar exteriors, but the spiritual core is vastly different. Finally, I have to admit that as for which is higher or lower, different people will have different judgments. "Low-grade," "high-grade," and "supreme"—in different people's minds, the order might be exactly the opposite.

25. Listen to nature; the sound of pine waves is the rhythm of the pine forest; the chirping like a complaint is the private song of autumn insects; the clear sound like resentment is the grievance of the cuckoo.

26. Listen to the heart; the tenderness is a piece of affection; the burning like a torch is a piece of passion; the kind greeting is a piece of pure heart.

27. Listen to the words of books; there are the delicate and beautiful lyrics of Qu, Tao, Li, and Du, fresh and bright; there is the brilliant literary talent of Zhimo and Eileen, tender as a dream; there is the flying personality and human insight of Han Han and Annie.