Flowers bloom on the ink; the mortal world remains unharmed

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　　Words can free time from loneliness, allowing it to bloom on its own; thus, I tend to my small patch of flower garden and find joy in it. 　　If meeting is the blooming of trees full of flowers, then parting is the withering of those flowers; and in between lies the story of blooming – that moment when the buds are about to burst into bloom. 　　The family once picked up a potted plant. In the passage of time, this flower always brings both surprises and disappointments. It does not bloom with the seasons, nor is it pruned according to human feelings of warmth or cold. It does not favor the sunlight outside. At one moment, the leaves are fresh and green; at another, they scatter and fly in the air. I moved it back inside. It has returned to normal. Sometimes, a few more leaves fall. I say it is impermanent; it acts arbitrarily in its own world, paying no heed to what others think. I understand why it was abandoned. Let it remain as it was before. Flowers, like people, should be allowed to bloom and emit their fragrance on their own. It rules its own world; what does it matter to me! 　　I wrote when the peach blossoms bloom ； At that stunning glance, one realizes that the peach blossoms hidden at the sleeve’s bottom have begun to bud. That year, she buried it deep in her heart, but few people knew the secret of that person picking up the peach pit back then. 　　When the peach blossoms bloom, love must have been there. They said. I believe it. 　　In winter, the geranium is my favorite. For nothing other than the fact that you’re too lazy to take care of it; when it decides to bloom, it remains full of colorful flowers and green leaves, as if there were no flowering period at all. What’s loved the most is surely one that has been put some thought into. Changed the pot for the Jinglan plant. It added a touch of atmosphere, drawing more people’s attention as they took a closer look. Just as people always want to show the best side to others, flowers are the same. 　　There is a sort of turmoil, which is only resolved when the flowers wither. 　　When there are more people around, one always seeks perfection. Even knowing that perfection is a demanding standard, it remains the same. At the same time, it is also understood that that perfection under the spotlights is achieved through sweat and tears behind the scenes. Can we do our best? I asked myself: actually, I know I’ve done my best; there’s no need to ask for more, right? These days, living under pressure is ultimately a difficult thing, isn’t it? I know that going with the flow is a compromise; in fact, it is something beyond that. 　　Indeed, I’ve always felt regretful because I’ve never been to the Jiangnan region ； Thus, the misty lands of Jiangnan became a paradise cherished in dreams. The imagined gentle ladies all grew up there—graceful and delicate, wandering through picturesque poems, arranging the rhymes of stories according to poetic rhythms, with a paper umbrella held firmly in their hands. 　　I don’t know; when I truly become part of Jiangnan, will I still refuse to turn my gaze back toward the city? It is this dreamlike water town that has nurtured in me the longing for home. In my hometown, the four seasons are distinct. I wonder if the woman who gazes at me shares my love for the snowy north, and my longing for a harvest as beautiful as snow-covered pear blossoms. 　　Indeed, because a song might worship someone ； Because of a certain similar experience, one might also pay attention to a particular person ； It was also because I had walked through those same landscapes that I fell in love with its mountains and rivers. 　　Many stories are not forgotten, but replaced by inexplicable similarities, which fosters a sense of composure. And in the face of a noisy city, learn to keep a quiet monologue deep within your soul, for yourself to melt into. 　　I like Ni Ping’s saying: “Splendorful words are not as good as ones that make a real impact.” “I have also been looking for such words. 　　Often, I prefer to be casual, and the articles I pick up are the same way. It wasn’t written deliberately for fame and fortune. I just like it; that’s all. When I received guidance from my teacher, I felt inferior at times, and at other times I felt secretly pleased. Perhaps deep down, I have more fantasies about those fragmented parts; when writing, I always try to leave some room, as I’m afraid of repeating what I’ve already said. Gradually, I came to understand that some perfection is meant to drive progress; it is a way of giving an account for one’s actions, a sense of responsibility – a responsibility toward one’s own preferences. So, remind yourself that you don’t have to be perfect, but you can’t stop striving for perfection. 　　She, the lover in the eyes of the public, has been aged by time; she has become so old that it is hard for the audience who loved her to accept her in this state. Yet she remains calm and genuine, showing no concealment of the passage of time; she spends more time practicing painting and collecting classic quotes from life, along with incisive comments, which only deepen the affection of those who like her. And that casual, composed expression—the genuine look that no makeup can conceal. You don’t have to be perfect, because that’s what real life is like. 　　I like the word \"tolerance\". It won’t tire you that much. 　　Many times, we have failed to appreciate the beautiful scenery and missed the perfect moments. This is life; there are a few small imperfections, but there’s no need to feel regretful……