Sheng Xiao Han Yu

The morning air, after an autumn rain, was moist and humid, a hint of coolness awakening a warm joy deep within me. I couldn't help but think of the maple trees, lush and leafy, that greeted the rising sun each day. After a night of wind and rain, I thought they must be refreshed! I gently opened the window, and a cool breeze blew across my face. In the distance, rolling hills stretched out, dotted with bare, slender trees, devoid of any spirit. A bird landed on a branch, fluttered its wings, and flew away. Though the wild grass covered the mountains, it had withered. Occasionally, a couple of wet wildflowers dotted the scene, adding a touch of life. But the maple tree before me was the most beautiful: its trunk pale and yellow, its branches crisscrossing, its leaves a fiery red. The window wasn't far from the maple tree, and its trunk stood out prominently. It gradually narrowed from top to bottom. Not as straight as a poplar, a fork often sprouts from the middle, making the tree appear enormous. Branches support the leaves, interwoven between the leaves and the trunk, gently trembling in the wind. And yet, encased in a thick layer of green, yellow, and red bark, they wave to the sky and smile to the earth; sometimes they shrug, sometimes they nod, sometimes they tilt their bodies, listening to the breath of the wind. The sunlight after the rain is even more dazzling, shining brightly on the lively and playful leaves. The maple leaves are redder than the February flowers, and the faint red is even more pronounced. I am extremely excited. I stand up and walk out the door, forgetting all the fatigue of the past. In an instant, I'm at the foot of the tree. Leaves pile up one after another, one next to the other. A gentle breeze picks up, carrying away a few leaves, and the shadow of the sky finally emerges. Even then, the leaves are still swaying in the air, spinning and landing. My childhood has long since faded with time, but looking back now, there is much to cherish. Behind my house stands a tall maple tree. It sprouts in spring, grows vigorously in summer, sheds its leaves in piles in autumn, and withers in winter. Beneath the tree, my father weaves a basket, humming a little tune. My mother feeds the chickens in the clearing nearby. My sister and I sit beneath the tree, scooping handfuls of leaves and throwing them into the air, over and over again. It's not until dusk that we leave, at the beckoning of our parents. We love to play and never tire. We lived happily nestled against the tree. However, as my mother and sister left for work, the sound of our playful laughter faded from us, from my life. Now, during this time, I see the long-gone years again, and admire the maple leaves that have traversed time. Picking up a maple leaf, I count the slowly passing years, feeling so happy and blessed. With every moment of hesitation and uncertainty, time slips away. The maple leaf quietly accepts the rain's baptism, allowing it to forget everything from yesterday. It's carefree, unsure of where the wind will carry it. I too should forget yesterday's failures, successes, unhappiness, and joys... Become a "new person," forge a new self, and face each day with confidence. Worries will eventually pass, and happiness will always arrive. I deeply love the maple leaf; it carries my heavy thoughts; and even more, I love my life; it nourishes me to rise again and create miracles!

Hua Sheng is sometimes afraid of losing in her life, and this feeling of worrying about gains and losses makes her very troubled.