Xin Zheng Yu Han
The festive atmosphere of the Lunar New Year was like the ebb tide, coming with a surge and departing with swiftness. The debris from the boisterous firecrackers had long since been swept away by the cold wind. The vibrant red lanterns and couplets lining the streets still hung, though covered in a thin layer of dust, appearing somewhat desolate and languid in the still-bitter north wind. The lingering smell of gunpowder and greasy New Year dishes lingered in the air, replaced by a heavier sense of reality: the Lunar New Year was over.
The city tightened its springs again. Commuter traffic returned to its usual congestion, and the honking of horns was particularly anxious. Pedestrians, wrapped tightly in their coats, hurried along, their faces bearing the tiredness and reluctance characteristic of the holiday season, a stark contrast to the anticipation and relaxation of the previous year.
In Ye Shu's apartment, the fleeting aroma of food and the bustle of people that had graced New Year's Eve had long since dissipated, returning to its usual, profound emptiness and silence. Only the large floor-to-ceiling window still seemed to faintly reflect the scattered, desolate afterglow of fireworks from the past few days, a silent lingering echo.
Chen Xu arrived in the afternoon, smothered in a chill from outside and visibly exhausted. He took off his coat, still wearing the same red sweater underneath, though the color seemed dulled by days of washing and the fatigue of the post-New Year period. He slumped onto the sofa and let out a long, heavy sigh, like a ball drained of its strength.
"Alas... the New Year has passed just like that..." He looked up at the ceiling with a hollow look in his eyes, "It feels like I had a lively dream, and when I woke up I found that the sheets were still old and the alarm clock was still ringing."
He began counting on his fingers. "The mountains of work, the endless meetings, the difficult clients... just thinking about it makes my scalp tingle. I really don't want to work a single day."
His complaints lacked their former vitality and exaggeration, leaving only a real, heavy boredom.
Ye Shu was sitting in his usual spot by the window, steam rising from the teacup before him in a faint but persistent spiral. He didn't look at Chen Xu, his gaze fixed on a bare branch outside the window, where a small, forgotten, tattered fragment of a red lantern swayed pathetically in the wind.
"When a feast is over, the cups and plates are in a mess. It's common sense." He spoke lightly, his voice as light and steady as the steam in the cup.
"I understand the logic," Chen Xu rolled over and buried his face in the sofa cushions, his voice muffled, "but I just... can't muster the energy. I feel so empty inside, like a piece of me has been ripped out."
He was silent for a moment, then suddenly looked up, his eyes a bit confused. "Ye Shu, tell me, why do people have to be like this? Busy and exhausted, just for a few days of relaxation and excitement during the New Year? And then busy again, exhausted again, waiting for the next New Year? What's the point of repeating this cycle?"
This question went deeper than his usual complaints, touching upon a certain existential confusion. The unique sense of emptiness and loss that followed the New Year was clearly enveloping him.
Ye Shu's gaze withdrew from the window and slowly fell on Chen Xu's face, which was full of fatigue and confusion. He was silent for a moment, as if he was considering his words.
"Tree rings aren't meant to mark an end, but to record growth." He picked up the teacup, feeling the warmth of its walls with his fingertips. "Rivers flow not to reach the ocean, but to experience the land along the way."
His voice was not loud, but like a stream flowing over pebbles, clear and calm: "The cycle of the year is not just about the clamor of a few days. The clamor is a marker, a breather, a ritual. Like the waves in a river, they are dazzling when they leap, but what truly supports them is the silent and continuous flow beneath the water."
Chen Xu listened in a daze, the irritability on his face faded a little, replaced by a thoughtful expression.
"You feel 'empty,'" Ye Shu continued, his eyes calm. "Perhaps it's because you only see the surface of the water after the waves have fallen, but forget everything beneath the water that never stops, supporting you—your breathing, your heartbeat, the street you'll open the door and walk into tomorrow morning, the cup of water in your hand that can still brew fragrant tea."
He paused slightly to let his words settle.
“The meaning of life lies not in the feasts of those few days, but in how you clean up the cups and plates after the feast and how you continue with the daily routine of the next meal.”
Chen Xu fell silent. He lowered his head, looking at his fingers, which were dry and flaky from frequent washing before the Lunar New Year. Yes, the Lunar New Year was over, but life went on. His work was still there, his friends were still there, this quiet apartment was still there, and Ye Shu... was still there too. Those seemingly ordinary, even tedious, daily routines were the silent yet powerful current that truly constituted his life.
The waves are indeed wonderful, but the river itself is eternal.
The huge void in his heart, created by the end of the New Year, seemed to be quietly filled by these words. It was no longer empty, but instead became a kind of peace that he could accept and live with.
"It seems... that's the truth." He said softly, as if talking to himself. He raised his head, looked at Ye Shu, and suddenly asked: "What about you? Ye Shu, do you... feel that the New Year is particularly deserted? Especially... boring?"
Ye Shu turned back and looked out the window again. As the sky darkened, the distant buildings began to light up, and the shattered fragments of the red lantern were almost invisible.
"Desolation is the norm," he replied, his tone without any loss, simply a statement, "Livelyness is like the breath on the window, it will eventually dissipate. The only thing we can face for a long time is the original appearance."
He paused, then added softly, like the sound of wind blowing through a window:
“And its original appearance has never changed.”
It’s still chilly in the early morning, but the wind is still blowing outside the window.
But in the apartment, a more tranquil and resilient atmosphere, different from the hustle and bustle of the festival and the absolute silence of ordinary days, is slowly flowing.
Chen Xu stopped sighing. He sat up, took the now-lukewarm cup of tea from the table, and took a sip. The tea had a slightly bitter taste, but it truly moistened his throat.
The new year is over.
And life begins again in its most essential and silent way.
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