Tonight we dance

Author: Lu Ran
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-06-01
Features: Moonlight flows down from the boundless wilderness, spreading all the way to the horizon. The night between heaven and earth is quiet, sleeping in a faint blue mist. The moonlight is white as snow on high mountains. The night sky is a dark purple crystal, sparkling, covering the vast wilderness in a heavy mist. Suddenly, a sound from the earth, a voice that had been sleeping for a thousand years, emerged—suppressed, fierce. The gloom covered the sky, the moon disappeared, and no one could see how dim it was. The wind howled through the wilderness, rampaging under the thick clouds, over the deathly silent earth. Its footsteps traversed the darkness, echoing heavily between heaven and earth. With the thunderous rumble of thunder, a brilliant silver lightning bolt instantly split the night sky, tearing away the heavy purple curtain. Almost at the same time, the earth cracked. An abyss too deep to see the bottom. The storm fell from the sky. Rain flooded everything—all, everything—forming dark blue rivers in the abyss, stretching infinitely. If you don’t believe it, then this was just a dream, a dream from the depths of the abyss. The surface was like an ancient bronze mirror, spreading smoothly. Through it, one could see the past and the future, even eternity. I woke from my dream. The clock pointed to ten. Every weekend at this time, people had just crawled out of bed, and naturally, I was no exception. I lazily pulled open the curtains, expecting the same lazy sunlight to stream in, as usual, passing through countless steel and concrete buildings, enveloping the city. The autumn wind carried a slight chill, sweeping fallen leaves piled at the corner of the wall. This always reminded me of Luna and that lake. The lakeside wasn’t like this—golden leaves covered the shaded paths, each delicate vein shimmering. They would dance in the sunlight. I was once again immersed in the dream. Indeed, dreams are all different, and they vanish completely after waking, leaving no trace behind. I am one of those who have experienced such dreams. The dreams mentioned here are indeed related to Luna: she took me into a world of ever-changing wonders through music and language, and I watched it in amazement, eyes wide with confusion. It faced me with a smile hidden in the darkness. I thought I would forget it quickly, but I didn’t, and I never will. Luna once spoke of the concept of imagination: at the edge of another world, not everything can be imagined. I still remember those words clearly. Great achievements often begin with insignificant imagination, mysterious and enigmatic. This mystery is invisible, quietly hiding in a corner, playing a game of hide-and-seek with us. In this game, we need to imagine, which brings us curiosity, artistic talent, and the joy of thinking, even returning to the mystery itself. These words have long since left my life. I can no longer accurately recount their full meaning, only narrating them based on my own understanding. We know that dreams are often born from imagination, but we cannot say: dreams are imagination. They are part of imagination, only a part, yet infinitely important. Back to reality. It was raining outside. I pressed my face against the cool window glass, looking at the misty steam and the misty world outside. Though it was early autumn, a cold rain had already seeped into the bone. I put on a thick coat, barefoot, wandering aimlessly across the floor like someone just waking up from a hangover. A premonition hung over me, making me feel uneasy. The phone rang, as expected. "May I help you?" "Is this Jianjing?" I instinctively gripped the phone. It was Wang Yang’s voice, along with his usual style—precise, brisk, rarely dragging. But his voice was now filled with urgency, drowned in an unusual sorrow, completely unlike himself. I couldn’t be sure, only holding the phone tightly and continuing cautiously. "Wang Yang? This is me. What’s up?" He took a deep breath, as if gathering something. "You know what? Luna’s in trouble." He said slowly. My gaze shifted to the window. The horizon was still filled with lead-gray layers of clouds, as deep and unfathomable as Wang Yang’s tone. I tried to find something through my intuition in this depth—this was an inauspicious feeling. I tried to convince myself to shake off those absurd thoughts, urging Wang Yang to continue. "Luna, she’s missing." Silence. My hand holding the phone droppedly. The phone fell with a "clack" onto the table, the long, coiled cord tangled in disarray, the shaking heart—, I froze. No, I had to figure this out. What was the matter with Luna? What had she done? What was he talking about? "I need to know everything." I pressed the speaker button and said loudly. The ticking of the second hand fell in the air. In the phone, Wang Yang’s voice, magnified, lacked vitality. "I’m not entirely sure. She hasn’t come to class for several days. On Wednesday, I heard people say she ran away." "Hear people say! How is that possible! You, do you have proof?" P5-7