Listen to the language of flowers

While he was diligently studying with a performance teacher, Xu Changjia had already traveled south to the birthplace of Dongba culture.

It was in a small town on the southwestern border. She took a train from the city center and endured a bumpy two-hour journey to get there.

As soon as we exited the train station, the village chief and two young men were already waiting for us.

As soon as she suggested going out for a walk, Professor Xu compiled a list of the locations and contact numbers of several villages he had visited in his early years, suggesting that she could start with these places.

Following the professor's plan, she started from the far south and walked back to the south bank step by step.

The people in small towns are simple and honest, and even their local accents in Mandarin reveal a warm and enthusiastic spirit.

Besides the Dongba script, she wanted to integrate into the lives of this ethnic group and compile these into written texts and videos.

Life in the small town is simple; it truly means one person, one house, three meals a day, and four seasons.

The village chief's surname is He, and his family has lived in Tinghuayu for generations.

From as far back as he can remember, he spent his days following his father and grandfather, either riding horses on the grasslands or running alongside cattle and sheep.

As Xu Changjia listened to their descriptions of the grasslands, mountain springs, and everyday life, he felt a longing in his heart; it truly seemed like a forgotten paradise.

The village chief arranged for her to live in a small, square courtyard where she could live alone.

He said that Professor Xu used to stay here when he came to inspect something, and his siblings would cook and deliver his meals to him. There are also several rose bushes in the yard that the professor planted himself, and they are in full bloom now.

The village chief and his men helped her put her suitcase away and didn't linger. The little girl following behind smiled at her, slipped something into her hand, and then disappeared in a flash.

Upon opening it, I found a painting.

Several people, each carrying a different gift, were welcoming a girl.

Look closely, and you'll see her spirit captured in her eyes and brows—it's an expression of welcome.

The courtyard is small, but it has everything you need.

She only had a box and a backpack, and the village chief and others helped her carry them in.

The bedroom was on the second floor of the small courtyard. She tidied up a bit, took out her computer, and organized the things she was going to practice and experience here.

I had only typed a few words when the video call came in.

Zheng Ruoqian dried his head with a towel, looking like he had just taken a shower.

The little wooden house in the background has a rustic charm.

"Jiajia, you've arrived?"

"Yes, I just finished cleaning up."

This time, she came to a small town in the southwest border region called Tinghuayu, at the foot of the snow-capped mountains where the Naxi people have lived for generations.

She told Zheng Ruoqian that the people here seemed very simple, honest, and hospitable, and that the courtyard where she was staying was the same one where her mentor, Professor Xu, had lived.

"Sounds pretty good. How long are you going to stay listening to the language of flowers?"

Xu Changjia sorted out his thoughts. He came here mainly to see what was so charming about the ancient Naxi people.

Besides the Dongba script, you should also learn more about Dongba paintings, especially murals, as well as their clothing, food, housing, transportation, and some unique customs.

"If I were to experience all of these, I'd estimate it would take at least a month."

She casually edited all the information she wanted to know into text and sent it to the village chief so that he could help make arrangements.

Then I listened to Zheng Ruoqian talking about his show in a casual way, but he would stop talking halfway through.

He mentioned the recording time of the show and his acting classes, silently calculating the time in his mind. He figured that once the first stage of his acting classes was over, he could spend two days with her.

Xu Changjia watched as the person on the other end of the video call darted around with their big eyes, as if they had something on their mind.

Before she could say anything more, she heard the other person continue, "I've been taking acting classes recently, and Teacher Wang Lei gave me some advice."

He already has some exposure in China, but he can't keep relying on participating in variety shows to maintain his presence.

Following Mr. Wang Lei's suggestion, we can shift some of our focus to filming in the future.

Having gained some influence in music, he can try other things. If he has some talent, it would be a good thing for him to make a name for himself and create representative works.

Xu Changjia nodded in agreement. In this way, he would reach a higher level, and her life would continue.

Without hesitation, we supported him in doing it.

"Did Sister Mei and the others recommend any minor supporting roles to you?"

"I don't have an agent, but Brother Wang Lei recommended someone to me. I'll go audition in a couple of days."

She asked about the others, and it was enough that she knew they were all safe and sound during the two days she was gone.

If she hadn't mentioned it, Zheng Ruoqian wouldn't have remembered.

"By the way, Jiajia, there's something Yunhe wants to tell you. You didn't have a signal on the plane, I don't know if he told you."

She shook her head and switched her phone screen. She had indeed not received any messages from Yunhe, nor any missed calls from him.

It is said that Yunhe's gallery has opened in the South Bank, still in the same small white building, and many big names in their industry have been invited to support it.

That same day, two of his paintings were auctioned off to an unknown private buyer for millions of dollars, who said they were of extremely high collectible value.

Also, I heard from my senior that they will invite Yunhe to an interview program in a few days, where he will appear on CCTV. His commercial value will then rise steadily.

She kept searching for news about Yunhe, what

"Stop saying you don't understand contemporary art. This emerging painter uses the simplest colors to tell the story of everyday life."

"His writing is full of light: the streets at midnight are actually so warm and welcoming."

"Attention collectors! This recent art graduate is sparking an 'art revolution'!"

There are many more examples like this, so Yunhe has truly become an overnight sensation.

She and Zheng Ruoqian discussed the future positioning of this emerging painter and how he would reach greater heights.

In the end, it all comes down to this: only with good works can you have the confidence to move forward.

If you have no representative works and rely solely on your words to get by, then everyone will avoid you and won't want to pay attention to you.

The next day, Xu Changjia woke up to the sound of birds chirping.

Pushing open the gate of the courtyard, you are greeted by the aroma of all kinds of street food.

It was still early, so she took the exchanged banknotes and her phone and went out.

The townspeople were mostly yellowish-skinned and short, with few as tall as her, who stood over 1.6 meters and wore a brown Panama hat.

At each small shop she visited, she asked what kind of food it was, and the hospitable shopkeepers would scoop out a portion for her to try.

Before she could even decide what to eat for breakfast, she was already fed by uncles and aunties selling rice noodles, roasted rice cakes, and all sorts of other kinds of pancakes she'd never seen before.

Finally, she walked to a small stall set up under a big tree, and guessed that the old man was at least fifty years old.

I sat down and ate a bowl of Naxi-style chicken bean jelly, and chatted with the old man about his daily life.

Grandpa said he's lived here most of his life and has never left the country. The farthest place he's ever been is the train station.

When he was young, he wanted to cross the snow-capped mountains to see the outside world, but his family always told him to wait.

It will be fine when your younger brother grows up and can go to school by himself.

Once my younger sister gets married, there won't be any burdens on the family.

Once Mom and Dad earn a little more money, we'll take you out...

As we waited and waited, the outside world changed rapidly. With the internet, we could connect with people all over the world without leaving home.

At this point, he no longer wanted to go out and was too weak to walk.

He would often put on his reading glasses, hold his phone, and ask his children and grandchildren how to use this or how to read that.

Xu Changjia listened with great interest. When the old man was young, he was a director. He would take tourists to climb this snow mountain every now and then. He knew exactly where there was an extra trash can or where a stone was missing.

As for the Naxi people and the Dongba script, just give them a topic, and they can talk to you non-stop for a whole morning.

Seeing that she had finished her bowl of cold noodles, the old man borrowed the butter tea pot next to him to pour her another bowl. The two of them talked and talked all morning.

When the village chief and the little girl who delivered the painting yesterday found her, she was surprised to find that the sun was already high in the sky and it was time for lunch.

The village chief was very happy to see her sitting there, so he didn't go up to disturb her. He just asked the little girl to bring her some of the brown sugar cakes that his family had just made.

Xu Changjia was taken aback at first, then took the food from the little girl's hand, and following the direction she pointed, he saw the village chief not far away.

She used the opportunity to share her brown sugar cakes with the old man and the neighbor lady who had just lent them the butter tea pot.

I casually asked about the old man's schedule and we agreed that she would come to listen to his stories again when she had time.

She took the little girl's hand and asked her what her name was and how old she was.

"My name is He Qingqing, and I am 8 years old."

The little girl was shy and didn't say much, so she didn't press the matter further.

The two walked up to the village chief and saw his anxious expression, as if he was afraid of delaying her business, so they comforted him.

“Village Chief, I have plenty of time. Eating, drinking, and strolling around every day won’t take up much of my time. You can put your mind at ease.”

He wiped his sweat, worried that if he didn't see the master of the Dongba murals get angry today, he might refuse to paint anymore.

“Ms. Xu, there are existing Dongba murals available. I’ll take you to see them today. I’m still helping you with other projects. I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve arranged them.”

"In addition, there is this child. She can stay by your side and keep you company. You can ask her to do things whenever you need her."

He had just let go of the little girl's hand, but turned around and took it again.

The three of them walked on the uneven stone slabs, their steps uneven, heading deeper into the past.