Compared to these, novels that require minimal mental effort and are ideal for relaxing while camping are a better choice. This book tells the story of a protagonist, tired of city life, who embarks on a journey into the wilds, encountering fairies, white wolves, and dryads. I've been reading it intermittently for a few days, and just recently reached the part where the protagonist encounters the fairy in the forest. The novel's brilliance lies in its descriptions of the scenery along the way, vividly recreating the protagonist's observations and experiences. I'm afraid the author's state of mind when writing this novel was far different from mine. His protagonist leaves home on a journey driven by a yearning for nature. As they walk, they take in the scenery, leaving behind a sense of ease and comfort, often climbing mountains and crossing hills without feeling tired.
If only we could be like that. Not to escape the war, but simply to travel, not to trek through the mountains or squeeze into the back roads, to go wherever we please. After all, this is cold, hard reality, nothing like the world of fiction. In all the history I've known, it seems there's never been anything so easy.
The page I just opened is a whole paragraph of descriptions of scenery and character. Late at night, the protagonist is led into the woods by a white wolf. Within the darkness, he sees shimmering grass and a fairy within. This is probably a brief foreshadowing before the climax, as the pace of the story slows down here. As I scanned the text with my eyes, I silently read it in my mind. Reading aloud without an audience seems pointless, and I'm not in the habit of reading to myself. Such a peaceful scene, when read silently in my mind, has its own special flavor.
Dobbin chased the white wolf, leaping over tree roots tangled beneath late autumn leaves and dodging vines draped from the trees, running deep into the jungle. The wolf's pure fur gleamed in the moonlight, seemingly unobstructed by the forest debris. The silvery figure leaped and dived swiftly, as if dancing beneath the moon, displaying an inhuman agility. Dobbin had to exert all his might to keep up. The crackling of the campfire seemed to linger behind him, but the light had long since vanished. The darkness of midnight enveloped the land, and the scene in this dense forest lost its reserved, restrained nature. Nocturnal animals had left their lairs, savoring the cool darkness. Perhaps in the grass beneath Dobbin's feet, curious eyes watched the run of man and wolf. Dobbin's ears were filled with the whistling wind and the rustling of his hands and feet across the grass. His eyes were fixed on the white wolf, its billowing white fur and the cool light that surrounded it. It no longer mattered to him what danger lay ahead. All he wanted was to catch up with the white wolf.
Moonlight shone on the wolf's tail, illuminating Dobbin's path. He swung his arms as far as he could, his feet pounding the ground, letting the sweat soak his clothes. He hadn't run so freely in ages, enjoying the mountains and rivers along the way. The wolf gave him a target to chase. Many ancient trees were left behind, but the wolf still ran far ahead, maintaining a distance that was neither caught nor far away. A hazy mist appeared in front of Dobbin, a light and fleeting white, obscuring the twinkling stars in the distance. The white wolf suddenly slowed down, its furry tail wagging happily, and it raised its head and let out a long howl. Dobbin couldn't help but slow down his pace and walked nervously behind the white wolf. The mysterious flash suddenly lit up.
As his gaze passed the howling wolf, the view before him suddenly opened up. The White Wolf's delighted destination was precisely this secret place within the mist-shrouded forest. A mirror-like lake reflected the deep night sky, surrounded by carpet-soft grass. Faint twinkles of light lurked among the grass, like stars adorning the dense night.
The white wolf took another step, circling the lake, its paws treading the grass without a sound. Through the thick mist, Dobbin spotted the white wolf crouching on the other side of the lake. A delicate white hand caressed its fur, fingers delicately tracing from its pointed ears to its back. The owner of the hand sat on the shore, clad in a pristine white gauze dress. For a moment, it was hard to tell the person from the mist. The white wolf whimpered softly, and the lake rippled, even the wind paused. The girl's feet, pale and graceful, like shy lotus flowers in the water, were faintly visible in the splashing water. The curled hem of the gauze dress slid down her legs, floating softly on the surface. The girl's long hair, black as night, cascaded to her waist like a waterfall. The gleam of light from the grass caught her face, unwilling to leave, framing her sweet smile like a multitude of stars. Breathing the fresh forest air, she almost forgot everything outside, forgetting that the sun would rise in the distant sky. The night always embraces the world, and she is the only moonlight on earth.
At this point, I closed the book, closed my eyes, and imagined the scene in my mind. It wasn't yet completely dark, and the faint light of the setting sun filtered through the tent, tinting the surroundings with a warm orange. The beautiful scene described in the book completely relaxed me, my soul comfortably immersed in it, as if I were transported to that shimmering meadow. I didn't even want the story to move on, didn't want the protagonist, Dobbin, to disrupt that tranquility. For a moment, the meadow and lake in the book replaced reality. The fairy sitting quietly on the shore came alive before me, the white wolf lying docilely at her hand. It was only for a moment, as fragile as a colorful soap bubble. I reached out, but couldn't even catch the dispersing foam.
I quickly opened my eyes. There was no point trying to recreate that scene. Like the intoxicating pleasure of controlling history, it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. All I could do afterward was rack my brains for a degraded, low-grade pleasure. The light outside the tent dimmed until only the solitary lamp by my bed remained. I opened the book and continued reading.
My dear, there is more to this chapter. Please click on the next page to continue reading. It will be even more exciting later!
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