4.3/5
漠盐陌语Autumn Arrives at Wuhai Lake The name of this lake carries a hint of the ruggedness of the north. Wuhai, Wuhai, always evokes images of the iron-colored Gobi Desert or deep coalfields. However, when autumn's footsteps touch this land, it gathers back all the clamor and heat of summer, transforming into a serene and voluptuous woman, gently, yet deeply, nestling a vast expanse of azure in the embrace of the plateau. I chose a sunny afternoon and walked alone to the lakeside. The poplar trees along the road were already adorned in mottled robes. Some leaves stubbornly clung to the last vestiges of summer's green, while others had turned completely golden, and still others, impatient, had been tinged with a blush by the autumn frost, like the cheeks of a drunken youth. The wind was cool, like a mint candy, refreshingly brushing against your skin. The leaves rustled softly in the cool breeze, occasionally a few fluttering and swirling as they bid farewell to the branches, their movements devoid of any lingering attachment, instead displaying a serene acceptance born of understanding. They fell to the ground, forming a soft path, rustling underfoot like autumn's most whispered secret. Upon reaching the lake, a sudden burst of light filled the air, and the heart expanded accordingly. The water was an almost unreasonable shade of blue. It was a serene, profound blue, as if the essence of the entire sky had been settled and dissolved within it. Unlike the shallow, alluring waters of southern spring, it possessed a philosophical depth, lying quietly, silent, yet making one feel one's own insignificance. The sunlight, no longer the fiery, glaring light of summer, became a gentle, golden stream, spreading across the wide lake surface, shattering into countless leaping scales. Where the wind passes, the water's surface ripples with incredibly fine, soft waves, and the millions of golden scales shimmer and flicker, like a vast, crumpled piece of blue silk embroidered with tiny golden flowers. In the distance lies the famous Ulan Buh Desert. Now, it lies quietly on the opposite shore of the lake, its fierce energy softened by the autumn light. The lines of the dunes, in the afternoon sun, appear exceptionally gentle, like the docile back of a sleeping giant. The sand is a pale golden yellow, contrasting boldly yet harmoniously with the azure of the lake and the blue of the sky. That water and sand, one soft, one hard; one moist, one dry, can remain so intertwined, guarding each other for millennia, is itself a miracle. On the lakeshore, several clumps of reeds, topped with clusters of white fluff, swayed gently in the wind, their slender, graceful forms like hermits from ancient paintings, exuding a serene and detached air. I walked slowly along the lakeshore and saw several anglers, sitting by the water like statues, their patience seemingly deeper than the lake itself. A mother, with her toddler, tossed pebbles into the shallows; the child's clear laughter, like a string of silver bells, rolled across the water and carried far. Everything slowed down, quieted down. The hustle and bustle of the city, the disturbances of life, seemed to be filtered away by the clear autumn waters and the vast sky, leaving only a transparent, tranquil leisure. Suddenly, Liu Yuxi's lines came to mind: "Since ancient times, autumn has been associated with sorrow and desolation, but I say that autumn days surpass spring mornings." This scene, this feeling, could perhaps not be more fitting for this state of mind. Autumn here lacks the bleakness of "grass and trees withering and decaying," instead offering a full and serene conclusion. It's a gathering, a settling, internalizing the vibrancy and passion of spring and summer into a deep, tranquil power. As the sun dips below the horizon and darkness descends, a different scene unfolds. A magnificent sunset paints the western sky with vibrant hues—orange-red, magenta, and gold—weaving a splendid tapestry, all reflected on the mirror-like surface of Wuhai Lake. At that moment, the world seems to overflow with a cup of rich, fine wine, the air itself brimming with intoxicating light and color. The lake's blue deepens, almost inky, while the desert's silhouette, backlit, becomes a silent, paper-cut-like line. Night finally settles, and I turn to return. The path I came by is now bathed in the thin twilight and the clear moonlight. Looking back at the lake, it has merged with the vast sands and the boundless night into a deep, misty expanse, where only the eternal, gentle lapping of the shore can be heard. Autumn arrives at Wuhai Lake, bringing not a message of decay, but a profound, majestic, and serene beauty. It tells you that while the vibrancy of life is delightful, only in tranquility can one see their truest reflection. This pool of autumn water on the northern plateau is the best vessel for my heart.
