At this moment, everyone in the classroom stood motionless, their gazes locked on the bulletin board Cheng Xing and Jiang Luxi had created. They were utterly dumbfounded.
At first, just like Jiang Luxi, the class assumed Cheng Xing was drawing a map of China. The idea seemed plausible, so no one paid much attention to the board's progress. After all, teachers rarely emphasized bulletin board contests, and Cheng Xing had a reputation for repetitive, uninspired slogans that had long bored his classmates.
Besides, this particular board had been completed only the previous evening, long after school hours.
"What is this supposed to be? It doesn't look like a map of China," Wang Yan muttered, eyebrows furrowed.
Li Dan chuckled, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Looks like we're going to be ranked last this time. Having a teacher in the family is definitely an advantage—they get inside info. Even the principal showed up. Who would've thought they'd take this contest so seriously?"
Given how incomprehensible the bulletin board appeared, Li Dan was confident they'd score poorly.
Chen Qing, who had arrived early that morning, had already seen it. She wasn't particularly concerned about its artistic merit—after all, she hadn't seen Jiang Luxi ask anyone for help. Working alone, Jiang Luxi's chances of impressing anyone seemed slim.
However, something puzzled Chen Qing: Cheng Xing's involvement. He had stayed after school for several days, a stark departure from his usual routine of loitering near the school gates. Initially, she thought he was trying to improve his studies, especially since he'd stopped getting into fights and rarely showed up late.
But now she understood. Cheng Xing hadn't been staying late to study—he had been helping Jiang Luxi with this intricate drawing. The level of detail and fluidity in the lines suggested an impressive artistic foundation, something Chen Qing never imagined either of them possessed. Yet, here it was.
As Cheng Xing and Jiang Luxi stepped forward, everything suddenly clicked into place for Chen Qing.
"Let's begin," the district official said with a smile, his eyes resting on Cheng Xing and Jiang Luxi. "Can anyone explain what this drawing is about?"
"I will," Cheng Xing replied.
Jiang Luxi was visibly nervous, her hands clenched at her sides. But Cheng Xing offered her a reassuring smile before stepping in front of the bulletin board. His expression hardened as he addressed the room.
"I know you're all wondering about this map on the board. It's clearly a map, but no one recognizes it. Let me assure you, this is a map of China."
A murmur swept through the room like a wave.
Everyone had a solid grasp of geography, especially the students of Ancheng No. 1 High School. Even someone with minimal education could recognize China's iconic rooster-shaped outline. But this?
The bottom half bore a slight resemblance, but the upper portion was utterly foreign.
"Quiet!" commanded Zheng Hua, the geography teacher, his authoritative voice silencing the crowd.
Once calm returned, Cheng Xing resumed, "I know what you're thinking. You're wondering how this could possibly be a map of China. Our nation is famously shaped like a proud rooster standing tall among the world's great powers. How could this unfamiliar map be ours?
"But let me assure you, it is a map of China—historically known as the Begonia Leaf Map. At its peak, China's territory covered 13.16 million square kilometers, far more than the 9.6 million square kilometers we know today."
The murmurs returned, but softer now, tinged with curiosity rather than skepticism.
"In fact," Cheng Xing continued, "an early elementary school textbook once described it like this: 'China's terrain resembles a begonia leaf. The Bohai Sea extends outward as the leaf stem; the western reaches of the Pamir Plateau form its pointed tip; the provinces and frontier territories combine to shape the entire leaf.'"
He turned to Zheng Hua. "Teacher, may I borrow your pointer?"
Zheng Hua looked puzzled. "Pointer? I don't have one."
Cheng Xing picked up a stick from the podium instead. With deliberate movements, he pointed to the upper part of the map.
"This map and its description should stir national pride," he said. "Yet, since 1840, this grand Begonia Leaf has been slowly carved apart by foreign powers."
The classroom fell into a tense silence.
"In May 1858, through the Treaty of Aigun, Russia seized over 600,000 square kilometers north of the Heilongjiang River and south of the Stanovoy Range. This was just the beginning of a series of territorial losses."
Cheng Xing erased a section from the top-right corner of the map.
"In November 1860, the Treaty of Beijing ceded about 400,000 square kilometers east of the Ussuri River to Russia. Today, this region is one of Russia's most economically developed areas in the Far East."
Another section was wiped away.
"In 1864, the Sino-Russian Treaty for the Western Frontier cost us over 440,000 square kilometers in the west."
He erased a chunk from the northwest.
"In 1881, the Treaty of Ili handed over more than 70,000 square kilometers of the Ili region.
"In 1886, there was the Sino-British Burma Treaty.
"In 1895, the Treaty of Shimonoseki with Japan.
"In 1896, Russia and Britain divided the western Pamirs.
"In 1944, the Soviet Union annexed 170,000 square kilometers of Tannu Uriankhai.
"And in 1946, with Mongolia's independence, China lost 1.56 million square kilometers."
Cheng Xing wiped out a massive section from the top of the map.
"Now," he asked, "do you recognize this map?"
The room fell into a stunned, oppressive silence.
Under Cheng Xing's eraser, the once-majestic Begonia Leaf had transformed into the familiar rooster shape.
"For various reasons," Cheng Xing said, his voice steady but somber, "you won't find this history in our textbooks. But the lessons of the past are not distant. History is stained with blood—it's not something we should, nor can, forget."
He pointed at the final line written by Jiang Luxi at the bottom of the board:
As the distant geese return under the sunset's glow, when will the rooster become a begonia once more?
Just then, Jiang Luxi started the music.
A haunting melody with a gentle and flowing rhythm filled the room.
Scaling peaks, I gaze toward home; endless yellow sands stretch far.
Where the camel bell tolls, it pierces the heart.
Yearning for the road of memories, I cross a thousand mountains.
As the distant geese return under the sunset's glow, where lies home?
Winds may erase, but history's blood-stained scars remain.
As the final notes faded, the air hung heavy with unspoken emotion, mourning the blood and tears of the Begonia.