A Red Leaf

◎ Shi Pingmei

It is late night with dreary wind and rain.

Everything has quieted down - only the rain falls on the plantain leaves, producing a heartbreaking patter．Perhaps this sound is the heartbeat of the universe, wailing on this quiet, late night.

Quickening for a moment and then slowing down for another, the rain outside the window sounds as majestic and mighty as battle drums and as rhythmic and swift as jazz swings, and its fall is as thin as the willow twigs tousled by the wind, wetting only a few budding chamomiles．With a broken dip-pen in one hand and my face toward the light of a lamp, I am lost in deep thought, as the images of past events glide through my mind．Abruptly, I put down the pen, slide open a drawer, pull out a red-covered diary, and flip through it until a red leaf appears．As brightly colored as a rose, the red leaf has already been kept in my diary for two months．Because of a propensity towards avoidance, I have not dared to look at it until now, for it is the embodiment of a soul and the symbol of a tragedy．Who would have expected that a thin leaf would be veined with the insolvable mystery of life and death？Looking at the leaf, I am now a captive to my tears, but I cannot complain．Of the tens of thousands of maple leaves that have fallen, this is the one that carries with it such an unfortunate fate．Let me tell you the story behind it.

The story took place on the night of October 26, 1923, when I was reading a book entitled Annals of Sorrow-Free Lake．Because I was a little tired, I lay down on a couch to take a catnap．The feverfew on the desk was in bloom, and the breeze coming through the window screen puffed whiffs after whiffs of its fragrance onto my face．The sweet scent lulled me into a state of deep slumber - or rather a gentle intoxication．Seizing the moment of my body’s relaxation, many petrels of reminiscence begin to dart over the undulating waves of thoughts in my mind．I was lost in the recollection about my childhood, when friendship - as firm as gold and as pure as jade - was formed, and unshakable determination - as strong as iron - was forged．I could not help smiling when my thoughts had reached the prospect of my future which aimed as high as a soaring bird in the cloud-embellished sky．When I opened my eyes, I saw, however, that the feverfew blooms were all drooping．I began to worry about their fate．It looked as if they were heading toward their tombs, where the angel of death, with his black wings open, awaited them．My heart was filled with an inexplicable sadness.