Afternoon with a breeze

     There's a piece of music worth listening to, whether it evokes sadness and despair or passion and excitement—Maksim's "Croatian Rhapsody."

    Even on a spring day like this

    , everywhere on campus, in every corner, the various scenic spots are teeming with people. Under the late-blooming magnolia trees, beside the majestic clock tower, cameras of all sizes, genuine or knock-off, are enveloped in the scent of people, men and women of all ages striking various poses with great enthusiasm. By the newly sprouted reeds of Mei Lake, a still-childish little boy crawls on the ground; just moments ago he was peeking through the trash cans, while his mother laughs beside him.

    On the increasingly dense earthen hills to the north, figures appeared and disappeared; a couple embraced passionately on the rooftop of the stylish North Building; on the observatory, all sorts of people went up and down, their eyes flashing with camera lenses; a girl in a red dress sat on the steps, gazing at something; on the lakeside road, a woman was taking pictures in various directions, her face obscured by her camera; the magnolias by the lake were in bloom, large, vibrant yellow clusters; a slender girl, probably just coming out of the study room, walked quickly, bag slung over her shoulder and ponytail swinging; two swallows chirped as they flew across the sky above Meihu Lake; standing facing the light, the brightly colored lake ripples made me feel as if I were receding, and thus, a sense of rushing began. The elevator suddenly stopped, causing a dizzying sensation; the small painted boat in the middle of the lake was packed with people; a woman on a bicycle stopped on the bridge to take pictures; people strolled leisurely along Houde Road like a stream; a magpie flew low and hovered gracefully, finally landing on a tree I didn't recognize; two men, one middle-aged and one young, sat on a rock by the lake talking, spitting out sunflower seed shells; three boys, about eight or nine years old, lay on the ground, touching something in the lake; two girls, about three or four years old, were singing, dancing, and laughing loudly, and when they saw me pass by, one of them, with a pineapple-shaped haircut, stared straight at me without any shyness; several middle-aged men and women sat on iron-framed benches chatting on the lawn.

    Everywhere was crowded, something I'd never heard of before.

    Even through the swaying pine shadows, I could see shimmering figures; a girl sat quietly on the lawn by the apricot altar reading a book, surrounded by many couples; a mother and daughter spread a large sheet on the lawn, the daughter playing with her head down, the mother gazing into the distance. On this afternoon, when the sun was no longer shining brightly, a magpie pecked at something in a deserted corner by the lake, then fluttered away after a while; a thin mother sat on a rock, holding her daughter, calmly enjoying the scenery; south of the central gymnasium stretched a vast expanse of barren yellow earth, bathed in the afterglow of the setting sun, and a girl walked through this desolate landscape; another girl, carrying a bag, looked around listlessly; besides the couple on the roof of the north building, another pair of girls appeared; a magpie, perhaps, flew low over Meihu Lake, then skimmed along the wall to the rooftop and perched high... Arrogantly surveying its surroundings; a girl sat alone by the lake, making a phone call, speaking softly; several people on the bridge peered into the lake, perhaps searching for that plump red fish; the enormous peach tree in the arbor was still a vibrant pink, seemingly encompassing all the beauty and fragrance of spring; the roses, growing ever more vigorously in the yellow earth, though not yet in bloom, secretly and ostentatiously proclaimed their existence; among the sycamore bushes, the usual chirping of sparrows was absent, creating a sense of loneliness; a majestic and enormous sycamore tree, its spiderweb-like branches seemingly about to break. The Moonlit

    Corridor. Amidst the lush green branches, two rows of densely packed golden willows gathered a sliver of spring's warmth, like a time tunnel, pulling at thoughts tinged with sadness as they were about to pass. The figure at the end, like a dream.

    On the way home, I saw weeping willows, now overgrown and seemingly at a loss. The east wind blows, bringing neither sorrow nor joy, neither loneliness nor solitude. In the pile of newspapers, advertisements that once faithfully reflected the will of the people have been removed, revealing the true, wicked nature of Zhengzhou University's fee disclosure.

    These past few days, a flock of pigeons has been circling and hovering in the sky around this time of day.