Chapter 059: Moonlight Over the Lotus Pond

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Anqi had returned to school. Her family's small food stall had become busy every morning and evening since the arrival of Sweetheart Rice Dumplings. Huang Juan and Chen Ming would help out after classes every afternoon, while Yang Tian was occupied with matters at the Hongyu Internet Café.

“These past few days, my heart has been unsettled. Tonight, as I sat in the courtyard enjoying the cool air, I suddenly thought of the lotus pond I pass by every day. Bathed in this full moonlight, it must look altogether different. The moon was rising higher and higher, and the laughter of children in the street outside the wall could no longer be heard; my wife inside was softly singing a lullaby to Run’er. Quietly, I put on my robe and slipped out the door…”

In Chinese class, Bao Yuehong read Zhu Ziqing’s “Moonlight over the Lotus Pond” in a melodious tone, leading the students to analyze and savor its details.

The students fell naturally into groups. Some listened intently and took diligent notes—such as Huang Juan, Chen Ming, and Anqi. Others were distracted, either dozing off or gazing out the window. Yang Tian belonged to the latter, his mind preoccupied with how to repay the money he had borrowed as quickly as possible. Even in the absence of a creditor’s urging, he disliked owing money; it made him uneasy.

There was yet another kind of student—those who hid a novel or comic under their desk or textbook, lost in their own imagined worlds. Zhao Shilei, Yang Tian’s roommate, was one such person. He had “Heroes of Sui and Tang Dynasties” under his desk, his left hand propping up his head as a shield, his big eyes fixed on the pages below, glancing up now and then to make sure Bao Yuehong hadn’t noticed.

“Zhao Shilei, please tell us what makes the scenery description in ‘Moonlight over the Lotus Pond’ so effective!” Bao Yuehong called on him with a smile. She bore no reproach for students like Zhao Shilei—after all, she’d once been one herself.

“The winding lotus pond is covered with endless leaves. The leaves rise high above the water, like the skirts of elegant dancers…” Zhao Shilei, startled, scrambled to his feet and hastily flipped through his textbook, randomly picking a passage to read aloud. When he reached the words “dancers’ skirts,” he faltered, which sent the whole class into fits of laughter.

Even Bao Yuehong pressed her lips together in amusement.

“All right, that’s enough laughter! Some of you, I notice, are always distracted in class, like drowsy cats squinting their eyes, looking lazy!” With these words, Bao Yuehong glanced at Yang Tian. She seemed to understand his thoughts: for a child to gather thirty thousand yuan was impressive, and she admired his determination, even as she sensed the burden he bore.

“Zhao Shilei, tell us how you interpret the last line of the essay: ‘Thinking this, I suddenly looked up and found myself at my own door; I gently pushed it open—there was no sound, my wife had been asleep for some time.’”

Zhao Shilei grew even more flustered, hurriedly turning to the final page and reading it several times before answering, “I think his wife is rather inconsiderate. He wasn’t home yet, and she was already asleep!”

This response caused even greater laughter among the students. Yang Tian shook his head, amused, thinking that Zhu Ziqing himself might rise from his grave if he heard someone interpret his work this way.

“All right, enough! Zhao Shilei, sit down. Chen Ming, tell us your understanding of the final line,” Bao Yuehong said, letting Zhao Shilei off the hook as he sat down, flushed with embarrassment.

“The last line seems a bit hazy at first, but if you consider the mood and tone throughout the essay, you see that whether it’s the pond, the moonlight, the flowing water, or the lotus seeds, all are rendered with a sense of tranquility. The protagonist seems to be seeking inner peace. So when it says, ‘all was silent, my wife had been asleep for some time,’ it serves to highlight the calmness in his heart,” Chen Ming replied after a moment’s thought, his voice ringing with confidence.

The class nodded in agreement, and Bao Yuehong smiled with satisfaction.

“Very good, you may sit. Does anyone have another view? Yang Tian, let’s hear from you,” Bao Yuehong circled back, her gaze settling on Yang Tian. It was clear to everyone she held him in high regard—understandable, given his excellence.

Yang Tian stood, and the class quieted; even the drowsy students raised their heads to listen.

“I agree with Chen Ming. The essay’s greatest strength lies in its use of scenery to convey emotion. Therefore, we might also interpret ‘wife’ as part of the scenery. The writer’s emotions shift throughout the essay. He leaves home in a restless mood, strolls by the lotus pond under the moon, and gradually his heart is soothed by the tranquil beauty. From the unease at the start to the silence at the end, with ‘my wife had been asleep for some time’ serving as another layer of tranquility. On a lighter note, if the writer’s mood hadn’t improved, he might have come home to find his wife tossing and turning or snoring loudly,” Yang Tian said, glancing at Chen Ming, his tone calm and insightful.

When he finished, the class burst into laughter, quickly followed by thunderous applause.

Bao Yuehong smiled knowingly, waved Yang Tian back to his seat, and resumed teaching.

Yang Tian let out a long breath. In truth, his favorite part of the essay wasn’t the final paragraph, but the “Song of Xizhou.” Those lines described the famous city of Yangzhou in the south, Zhu Ziqing’s hometown, where he spent his childhood and youth.

Zhu Ziqing’s recollection of lotus-gathering in Yangzhou was surely an act of nostalgia—a longing for the days when someone would accompany him in a boat among the lotus, gently gathering seeds. If only he could return to those times, he’d surely wish to dream again, drifting on the lotus pond, picking lotus seeds by moonlight.

After class, Yang Tian received a note from Huang Juan, which read: In your eyes, is a wife merely a part of the scenery?

“Not at all. But a wife is certainly the most beautiful part of it!” Yang Tian replied. When Huang Juan read the note, her face turned instantly crimson, and she hurried out of the classroom in embarrassment, as if afraid Yang Tian might see her blush.

Yet Yang Tian hadn’t lied, nor was he trying to flatter her. He understood what Huang Juan meant—they were betrothed as children, and she was, in a sense, his fiancée. If a wife were merely part of the scenery, wouldn’t that imply a certain distance?

But in his heart, Huang Juan truly was a beautiful landscape—one he had never noticed before his rebirth.