Mia's happiness permeated every woman. The adult women remembered the good times they had when they were young, and the little girls saw a dream-like hope and looked forward to the early arrival of this day for themselves. Friends and relatives began to torture Mia with adult questions.
"Mia, do you have someone in your heart?"
"Mia, what do you think the peacock opens its silk feather for?"
"What kind of beading lasts a long time?"
"What kind of sugar cane is sweet at both ends?"
Mia bowed her head silently, overcome with shyness. Her best friend answered them one by one for her, depicting the joy of a girl looking forward to the future and the wisdom and responsibility of pursuing love.
The master took the antlers of the sika deer and spun them around Mia's head a few times. Following the beat of the drums, she danced mysterious steps in the yard, looking for the mascot, and then hung the antlers on a grapefruit tree. The tree covered with green grapefruit was sprinkled with the almighty flower dew.
The drums got louder, everyone turned their heads to me in unison, and Mia's mother said, "Go on, son!" I didn't know what to do. The aunts quickly explained that the following was a marriage game, Mia would "marry" that mascot tree. You were the brother. You should carry her to catch up with the marriage.
I didn't expect this to be my role, but I felt honored that Mia trusted me so much that I couldn't afford a stage fright. I carried Mia on my back, chased the drumbeat, and under the encouragement of everyone's "oh oh," I ran around the grapefruit tree for eighteen laps in one go!
Immediately, drums blared in unison, and men outside poured into the courtyard. Young people held hands, formed a large circle, and performed traditional line dances. I was with Zabow, Mia, and the other students for a while before saying goodbye to them.
The students reluctantly sent me out of the village: "Teacher, come back next year!"
Mia took my hand and asked me, "Teacher, can I call you brother?"
When I went down the mountain alone, I was still immersed in the optimism and yearning of the villagers for life, and the experience of the dense forest and its stories that had remained for thousands of years.
The villages were close to our camp, yet our life stories differed. I would like to know if there were other stories outside the forest, outside the small county town – and many villages, many cities?
After teaching a two-hour class in the morning and carrying Mia for many laps, I felt very thirsty. I knew there was a small waterfall not far away on my road, so I went through a rubber forest to find water. Amid the mist, I saw Donna unexpectedly.
She stood in the waterfall, swaying her long hair, with water splashing all over her side. Behind her, there was a clear spring and a slow stream, and a rainbow rising from her side. She was naked, and her body was as beautiful as I imagined, with pear-like breasts, a curvy waist, and half-moon-shaped hips. I hid behind a taller clump of water grass and watched with admiration - there she was, admiring the spring, the sun, and herself. I saw the clear spring flowing over her cheeks and sliding over her fingertips as if it had life. The hanging vines were dancing with the waterfall. There seemed to be a lingering song resounding in the air.
I took out my notebook and pencil, quietly drew everything in front of me, and quickly ran away. On the way, I decided that my major in the university would be fine arts, and I would be dedicated to depicting the beautiful moments of life in the future.
I told my master, Dashang, of my plan, and he rejected my idea. He said that the threshold for art was very deep, and I would have no chance of getting an admission, and he only dared to choose the artisan instead of the art. I listened to his advice and decided to apply for literature instead.
Dashang and I looked for review materials and then shared them. We took turns using them. During the day, he went to the mountains while I reviewed the copies and, at night, I let Dashang have priority.
It was impossible to make up for high school courses with only two months. The only way to review was to scan the materials, like racing a horse to look at the flowers. Preparing for history and geography depended on how big your brain was and how much you could fit in at once. There was nothing to prepare for the Chinese. I would definitely lose points on Pinyin; no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't distinguish between the front and back nasal sounds. The writing skill wouldn't change much in two months unless the gods gave lectures. As for politics, I had to rely on the People's Daily and the radio.
My difficulty was still mathematics. It seemed there was a general in each chapter; you had to defeat the general before advancing to the next level. With some unsolvable questions, I asked all the elites in the camp, but no one could figure them. According to Jialin, "If you have no solution, you have no solution. You don't know that you are the scholar in this valley?" This was a bit hopeless.
Dashang studied hard and seemed determined to seize this opportunity, leave here, and end his starving life. Or, he was tired of drawing sketches every day and wanted to return to the metropolis to paint his oil paintings. He was logging in the mountains during the day, returning to the camp around nine o'clock, sleeping only three or four hours at night, squeezing out every minute to prepare for the exams.
At this critical moment, he had been injured. When I went to see him in the dormitory, I saw him lying on the bed, one leg was bandaged, and he held review materials in his hand. There was no harrowing expression. He said it was a minor accident – an axe floated and slashed a few inches in his leg. At least now he had the time to review and study all day; otherwise, he would be overtired, and more dangerous things might happen.