After much thought, I still couldn't figure out how to describe the night sky I saw at this moment. I thought about using phrases like "the reflection of geese in the river, the plum blossoms are thin, no dust, snow flying, clouds rising, and the night window is as bright as day" or "the silver shadow flies with pear blossoms and the jade is thin, the clear radiance flows like frost." However, the image in front of my eyes is gradually becoming a vague shadow in my mind. It is already the brushstroke of heaven and earth, and at the moment of first seeing it, my mind involuntarily wants to write or recite it. But it's just like before, with a single thought, my mind is already intoxicated, and I don't think about much anymore.
Gradually, when I see the shadow of the snow, the emotions in my heart and the thoughts in my mind are no longer as joyful as before. It seems unrelated to how tired I am. Upon careful consideration, it is probably because the liking that used to arise naturally has turned into love. Just like osmanthus flowers, I am deeply infatuated, but I never thought about tasting osmanthus cake or osmanthus wine. Love is not about having a purpose.
Sometimes, I ponder and realize that there is not much difference between me and them.
Not just me, in the past, whether it was a thousand years or a hundred years, those fleeting glances and shadows, how ordinary they are, how they shine, and how they anticipate the praise of future flower viewers.
At the beginning, it was also the past. At that time, I felt that my heart was still warm in the long spring, and it was even more common to occasionally encounter the beautiful autumn. But I never thought that the winter I had read about in books or heard people talk about would come so quickly, and at the same time, it would be so ordinary and even more ordinary. Looking at it now, the gentlemen of the past are bowing and serving, giving their all, and the nine fields of clear orchids that were planted and the hundred acres of fragrant orchids that were grown have become frostier and darker. It makes people feel lost. Later, and the later after that, I can't bear to think about it anymore, let alone talk about it.
But it's still good. Although the long night I see now is as ordinary and common as ever, I am fortunate to encounter this snow. I won't speculate on whether the distant sky will become a longer night or a darker one in the future. At least for now, because of this flying snow, it is clearer and brighter. Perhaps it can't compare to the brilliance of the past spring, but it still makes people can't help but feel anticipation. It's like the joy of being in a dark room with a lamp. It's not just a whimsical thought when you can't sleep.
What makes me feel even more fortunate, and even more blessed, is that I have the opportunity to become a snowflake in this flying snow. Perhaps at this moment, I have transformed from a graceful dance to a silver shadow, joining this faint and dim light like a candle flame. Although there may not be any difference, I still feel joyful. I am deeply looking forward to the future and the many people who will come later. If my brightness is not enough, but I am still a pure and passionate snowflake, reflecting the long night of someone's emotions, perhaps it will only last for a moment like now, but it is enough to proudly meet all the gentlemen and osmanthus flowers.
Even if I may not have the chance to see the future and the future after that, and have turned into dust, I will definitely smile.
At least I have once illuminated the snow in this long night, just like now.