How wonderful it is to be quiet

 　　Finding tranquility amidst the hustle and bustle is a luxury.

　　Last night's breeze was cool. Perhaps the clouds that drifted away this afternoon left the rain elsewhere, sparing us only a little breeze. Well, in the summer heat, a gentle breeze is a blessing.

　　I enjoy walking at night among the grass and trees in the neighborhood, especially with the cool breeze as my companion. Passing the shallow water, I step onto the cobblestone path, enjoying the caress of the tender branches and the fragrance of the grass and flowers. I walk slowly, without noise or clamor, only the moon in the sky and a soft melody drifting from somewhere. Sometimes I sit on a chair by a tree, gazing at the sky, lost in thought at the sparse stars. At that moment, my mind seems spotless; I don't know what I'm thinking or what I'm looking at. I enjoy the peace and tranquility of nature, as if my soul has been soothed by this stillness. The only regret is that the towering buildings obstructed the view, preventing my tranquility from reaching the boundless plains and mountains in the distance.

　　Enjoying the quiet of the night often allows thoughts to wander freely; perhaps the theory of "montage" was born from such chaotic shifts? Maybe at this moment, on the lonely highways of Northwest China, a car is speeding towards the depths of the mountains in the peaceful night. Perhaps on the vast grasslands, the melodious tune of the morin khuur (horsehead fiddle) is flowing under the starry sky, accompanying the love of young men and women. Perhaps the camel bells of the desert echo along the ancient road bearing the marks of time, amidst the endless yellow sands. Perhaps, surrounded by mountains, the blue lake is quietly unfolding another legend. The beauty of tranquility is like honey, with an understated sweetness and a lingering, delightful aftertaste. This reminds me of Ying Tan.

　　I wonder, what kind of unwavering strength has allowed such a stone village to survive intact for hundreds or even thousands of years? It's quiet! I once asked the villagers when the road leading to the village was built. They said it was in 1996, meaning that twenty years ago, a true road into the mountains was finally built. The current road was widened three years ago. You can imagine how difficult it was to leave the mountains twenty years ago. However, perhaps it was this hardship that created the quiet of this small mountain village, and it is this quiet that has preserved this historical legacy. In that sense, how beautiful this quiet is!

　　I heard from the villagers that two painters from Beijing rented several stone houses in the village. Renting here isn't expensive, but the communication signal is too weak, and there's no internet access. But they don't care; they need a quiet environment and sketching material, both of which can be met in Yingtan. However, I've been to Yingtan twice. If you're going there to experience the charm of the ancient stone village, it's fine, but if you're looking for quiet, that used to be possible, but now it's probably impossible!

　　Breaking the silence deep in the mountains is only a matter of time. The villagers are happy with this activity because it brings them wealth. For example, they are excited about the bustling crowds in the stone courtyards, the aroma of wild game from the farmhouse restaurants, and the baskets of walnuts, persimmons, and honey that have been exchanged for a considerable sum of money. However, with the impact of this hustle and bustle, the harmony, trust, and simplicity of the past seem to be quietly eroding. Of course, I am even more worried that this historical tranquility will be swallowed up by the noise of modern times.

　　The mountain people here once stared with bewildered eyes, not understanding why city dwellers would choose to come to the mountains to see these cramped and dilapidated stone houses, ignoring the skyscrapers. In fact, they did not understand that those city dwellers once had such scenery beneath their feet. When skyscrapers replaced those scenes, they longed for the purity and tranquility of the past, which is why they came here.

　　Breaking the silence is easy, but returning to it is difficult.

　　Modern people seem weary of the hustle and bustle of the city and prefer to find a sanctuary of their own, a tranquil harbor where their hearts, weary from the "liveliness," can find peace. They may hide in the mountains, moor by the sea, find solace in the sounds of the morning bells and evening drums, or even fly overseas under the blue skies and white clouds—all seeking to soothe their depression and anxiety. This helps me understand why Tao Yuanming depicted the beautiful Peach Blossom Spring. Perhaps he wanted to pierce the veil of societal restlessness and find his ideal of nature and tranquility. Sadly, however, when the old master returned to reality from his imagined paradise, he could never find the Peach Blossom Spring he envisioned. He enjoyed the beauty and peace he described, yet he was helpless against the restlessness and loneliness of reality. This is the cruelty of reality!

　　Quietness gives people space to savor and reflect on life. In such a space, sipping slowly, perhaps we can truly experience the happiness and sweetness of life! Thinking about it this way, how wonderful quietness is!