The lights are passed on, and life continues

On a spring day in Geneva, the lake shimmered with tiny silver glints. In the "Original Heart Hall" on the top floor of the Foundation's headquarters, Li Xiaoyu slowly walked past a wall of photos documenting the Foundation's 25-year journey. The photos, ranging from black and white to color, from the three of them huddled in their old office to grand group photos of the global team, each one told a story of heart and hope.

Today, she will conduct the final formal handover of work with the new generation of leadership team. Cheng Han, Nila, Luca, and Kadir—this team of Joint Secretary-Generals, formed four years ago, has proven the wisdom and resilience of collective leadership.

"Do you remember the first time we had a meeting here?" Li Xiaoyu's voice was filled with gentle nostalgia, and her fingers gently stroked the yellowed work notebook that Mo Xiaoyu passed to her.

Cheng Han nodded, his eyes filled with respect. "You said then that the foundation is like a lamp, not only to shine itself, but also to light up other lamps."

Inheritance is not an end, but a way of continuing love.

The handover ceremony was simple and solemn. There was no grand celebration, just core team members sitting together, sharing their insights over the years like a family.

"I've been thinking a lot about what Teacher Mo said lately," Li Xiaoyu said, gazing out the window at the shimmering lake. "She said each of us is like a gust of wind. What matters is how many seeds we help find suitable soil to grow as we blow past."

Nila gently held her hand. "The seeds you and Teacher Mo planted have now grown into a forest."

Indeed, data shows that the foundation's open-source platform has been translated into 68 languages ​​and has taken root in 147 countries. Over 90% of projects that once required the foundation's direct operation are now managed independently by local teams. Among those helped, over 30,000 have become professional psychologists, and hundreds of thousands are spreading warmth in their communities in various ways.

"We've achieved something we couldn't have imagined back then," Luca said with emotion, "making the concept of mental health a truly global public good."

However, what makes Li Xiaoyu most happy is not these numbers, but the subtle yet profound changes taking place in every corner of the world:

On the Mongolian grasslands, herders have compiled mental health knowledge into ancient folk songs and sung them while grazing;

In the Amazon rainforest, tribal elders incorporate wisdom about emotion management into traditional rituals;

Even scientists at the Antarctic research station have created psychological support methods suitable for the polar environment.

When an idea begins to walk on its own, it truly takes on life.

In the afternoon, Li Xiaoyu went alone to the foundation's original small office—now fully preserved as a memorial hall. Everything here remained exactly as it had been 25 years ago: the mottled walls, the creaking old fan, the sagged sofa, and the words "Healing Psychology" handwritten by Mo Xiaoyu on the wall.

She sat down on the familiar old sofa and closed her eyes, as if she could hear the echoes of the past - Moyu's gentle guidance, Zhang Wei's crisp laughter, and the sounds of team members discussing a case intensely in the middle of the night.

"Grandma Li?" A childish voice sounded at the door.

Li Xiaoyu opened her eyes and saw a little girl in a red scarf standing timidly at the door, holding a visitor brochure in her hand.

"I'm sorry, did I disturb you?" the girl whispered.

"No," Li Xiaoyu smiled and waved her in, "What's your name?"

"My name is Xiaoyu," the girl said with sparkling eyes. "My mother said it was raining on the day I was born, and the person she admires most also has the character 'yu' in his name."

Li Xiaoyu's heart skipped a beat: "Your mother is..."

"My mother's name is Lin Yue," the girl said proudly. "She said you are one of the most important people in her life."

Memories flooded back. The girl who was once lost between virtuality and reality had now become a renowned psychology professor and had such a lovely daughter.

The cycle of life is so wonderful - those we illuminate will eventually become new sources of light.

Xiaoyu looked around the simple room curiously: "Grandma Li, is this where you help so many people?"

"Yes," Li Xiaoyu said gently, "and not just here. Now in every corner of the world, there are people continuing this work."

"I want to do this job when I grow up," Xiaoyu said earnestly. "My mom said I have to learn to listen to my own heart before I can understand the hearts of others."

At that moment, Li Xiaoyu seemed to witness the cycle of time. She gently hugged the little girl and whispered in her ear, "Remember, always keep a heart that is willing to listen."

In the evening, the former friends spontaneously gathered at the foundation's headquarters. Zhang Wei, now retired, flew in from China, and Liu Jian rushed back from a project site in Southeast Asia. Even the elderly Moyu joined this special gathering via video link.

They didn't talk about work, but rather shared their lives like old friends. Zhang Wei talked about the book she was writing, Liu Jian discussed his two adopted children from Myanmar, Cheng Han showed off his daughter's latest painting, and Nila shared her new discoveries in the Arctic Circle.

Looking at the still clear eyes of the cuttlefish on the screen, Li Xiaoyu said softly, "Teacher, we did it."

The cuttlefish smiled and nodded. "No, you did it. I simply planted a seed, and you helped it grow into a tree capable of providing shelter for many more people."

The value of a life lies not in what it possesses, but in what it ignites.

As the night deepened, everyone began to leave. Li Xiaoyu finally stood alone on the headquarters terrace, overlooking the myriad lights of Geneva. Behind each light was a unique soul and an untold story.

She thought of everyone she had met over the past 25 years: the old man who lost everything in the Qingjiang flood but remained strong, the stone who found himself by weaving bamboo baskets in Yunling Village, the young man who learned to communicate again on the streets of Tokyo...

These faces are like stars in the night sky. Although far away, they always shine in her heart.

Cheng Han quietly came to her side: "Do you need me to take you home?"

Li Xiaoyu shook her head and handed him a key: "This is the key to Chuxin Hall. Now, it's yours."

Cheng Han took the key solemnly, as if he was taking over the entrustment of an era.

"Don't be afraid of change," Li Xiaoyu concluded. "The foundation has been able to achieve what it has today because we never restrict ourselves to a specific model. Remember, forms and methods may change, but our original aspiration to warm others should never change."

Cheng Han looked at the mentor who had guided him for fifteen years and nodded firmly: "We will."

As she left the headquarters, Li Xiaoyu didn't look back. She knew it was time for a new generation to write their own story.

The spring night breeze ruffled her white hair and brought the faint sound of singing from a distant cafe. She walked slowly, like an ordinary retired old woman, blending into the night of the city.

But in her heart, the light remains bright. She knows that in every corner of the world, there are countless "Li Xiaoyu" and "Mo Xiaoyu" continuing this heartwarming work. They may have different names and use different methods, but they all share the same desire—to make every heart visible, understood, and warmed.

Life will grow old and stories will turn pages, but hope will always be young.

At the foundation's headquarters, Cheng Han stood where Li Xiaoyu had just stood, watching her gradually receding downstairs. He opened his phone and sent a message to the Joint Secretary-General group:

"See you at Hatsuhindo tomorrow morning at nine. We have a new story to begin."

The night deepens, but the lights of Geneva remain bright, like the never-extinguished light of hope in the human heart, one after another, passed down from generation to generation, shining endlessly on this blue planet.

Life will age, lights will change, but the act of "healing" itself has been in the world forever.