Walk towards the light
Zheng Yiming spent ten years in the mountains.
Over the past decade, he has transformed from a taciturn young man into a middle-aged man with graying temples. The calluses on his hands are as thick as cowhide, the result of years of repairing desks and chopping firewood; the scar on his forehead has faded to a light pink, but it remains clear when he smiles—a mark left from when he atoned for his sins by hitting his head against a wall, and also his promise to Shen Zhixia to always remember the pain.
The year the school library was built, he specially planted a row of sunflowers at the entrance. Every summer, the golden flower heads face the sun, like countless smiling faces, illuminating the entire mountain. The children always loved to gather around him, listening to him tell the story of "Teacher Shen"—that older sister who could draw, understood physics, and had dimples when she smiled, who was the softest corner of Teacher Zheng's heart.
"Teacher Zheng, is Teacher Shen really as amazing as you say?" Xiaoya, with her pigtails, asked, tilting her head up. The sunflower bracelet on her wrist had been rubbed until it shone.
“Hmm,” Zheng Yiming squatted down and tidied her wind-blown hair, his eyes filled with tenderness like a mountain spring. “She’s much more capable than me, but… she doesn’t have the chance to let more people know.”
Xiaoya was a child he adopted five years ago. Her parents died in a mountain accident. When she first came, she was timid and always hid in the corner, like a frightened little deer. Zheng Yiming looked at her and always thought of Shen Zhixia, who was crying in the corner of the art studio when he was in high school. So he took her home, taught her to read and draw, and told her, "No matter how difficult things are, you can get through them."
In the past ten years, he has only left the mountainous area three times.
The first time was on the anniversary of Shen Zhixia's death, when he went back to his hometown. Shen Zhixia's mother's hair had turned completely white. She held his hand and cried like a child: "Yiming, I don't blame you anymore, I really don't blame you anymore... If she could see you like this now, she would be at peace."
He stood before Shen Zhixia's grave, placing a bouquet of sunflowers. He didn't speak, just stood there quietly for the entire afternoon. The photo on the tombstone was taken in her senior year of high school; she was wearing her school uniform, smiling brightly and cleanly, her eyes shining even brighter than the sunlight. He touched the worn-out sketchbook in his pocket; the ginkgo path on the last page was still clearly visible, like a dream he could never wake up from.
The second time was to Peking University. He was participating in an educational exchange activity as a teacher from a mountainous area. As he walked into the physics department building, sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting dappled shadows on the floor, much like a drawing in a sketchbook. Standing in front of the bulletin board, looking at the list of outstanding students posted there, he suddenly remembered Shen Zhixia saying, "I want to study physics here," and his eyes welled up with tears.
A professor wearing black-rimmed glasses walked by, saw him staring blankly at the list, and asked with a smile, "Comrade, are you looking for someone?"
“No,” Zheng Yiming shook his head, his voice a little hoarse, “I just want to take a look.”
“Our department recently produced a remarkable female PhD,” the professor said proudly. “She studies semiconductor materials, and she’s just as talented as the woman behind you…” He pointed to a photo on the wall. “Dr. Shen Zhixia was just as gifted back then.”
Zheng Yiming turned around abruptly. The female PhD student in the photo had curved eyebrows and a small dimple on the left corner of her mouth when she smiled, looking exactly like Shen Zhixia. His heart felt like it had been hit by something, aching with pain, yet also warm and throbbing.
It turns out that someone really did come here for her.
The third time was when he took Xiaoya to Beijing for medical treatment. The child had a heart condition and needed minor surgery. During her hospital stay, he saw a familiar figure in the hospital corridor—Jiang Yi.
He was much more mature than he had been ten years ago, wearing a white coat with a nameplate on his chest that read "Chief of Cardiac Surgery." When he saw Zheng Yiming, he paused for a moment, then smiled and walked over: "Long time no see."
"Long time no see." Zheng Yiming's hands were a little awkward, unsure of where to put them.
"Is this your child?" Jiang Yi looked at Xiao Ya on the hospital bed, a gentle smile in his eyes.
"Yes, adopted."
"So cute, just like you." Jiang Yi paused, his tone slightly hesitant. "Are you... alright?"
“It’s great.” Zheng Yiming smiled. “Teaching in the mountains is very reassuring.”
Jiang Yi nodded and took out a business card from his pocket: "If you need any help, feel free to contact me anytime. Oh, by the way," he seemed to remember something, "I went to Peking University to give a lecture last year and saw that the Physics Department has a Shen Zhixia Scholarship, which was established in her name to support girls from poor families who have excellent grades."
Zheng Yiming's eyes welled up with tears: "It's you..."
“It wasn’t me,” Jiang Yi shook his head. “It was a donation from many people, Zhou Ziang, her former classmates, and… her mother. Everyone thought that we had to do something so that her name could be remembered by more people.”
That afternoon, Jiang Yi performed surgery on Xiao Ya, and it was a success. Zheng Yiming waited outside the ward, watching the sunlight fall on the ground like a layer of gold. He suddenly understood that some farewells are not the end, and some longings can be transformed into strength—they were all using their own ways to let Shen Zhixia live on in another form, living on in the sunflower head, living on in the laboratory of Peking University, and living on in the hearts of everyone who had been warmed by her.
Before leaving Beijing, he took Xiaoya to Yenching University. The leaves on the ginkgo avenue were a perfect yellow, like something out of a painting. Xiaoya pointed to a group of students not far away and excitedly exclaimed, "Teacher Zheng, look! They're painting!"
Several girls sat on a bench, sketching the ginkgo tree. One of them, wearing a beige sweater, had a particularly soft profile in the sunlight as she bent down to add the last stroke to the sunflower on her canvas.
Zheng Yiming stopped in his tracks, as if nailed to the spot.
Time seemed to overlap at this moment. The girl's movements, expressions, and dimples at the corners of her mouth were so much like Shen Zhixia, who was seriously painting in the art studio many years ago.
"Teacher Zheng, why are you crying?" Xiaoya tugged at his hand.
He raised his hand to touch his face and realized he was crying. It wasn't sadness, but relief, warmth, and a feeling that "it's so good."
"It's nothing," he said, crouching down to straighten Xiaoya's scarf, his voice choked with emotion, "I just think... the sunshine is so nice."
The girl seemed to notice their gazes, looked up, smiled in their direction, and her eyes shone like the autumn sun.
Zheng Yiming smiled and nodded vigorously at her.
Some stories are destined to have regrets; some people are destined to live only in memories. But as long as we remember those warm moments, those unspoken tendernesses, and remember to face the light and live well, that is the best consolation for the past.
On the way back, Xiaoya leaned against the car window, watching the scenery rush by, and suddenly asked, "Teacher Zheng, has Teacher Shen turned into a star in the sky?"
“Hmm,” Zheng Yiming said, looking at the sunflower field passing by outside the window, his voice as gentle as the wind, “She has become the brightest one, watching over us.”
As the car entered the mountainous area, the setting sun painted the sky orange-red. The school children, waiting at the intersection with sunflowers in their hands, cheered excitedly upon seeing the car. Zheng Yiming carried Xiaoya out of the car, and the children surrounded him, chattering excitedly, asking, "Was the surgery painful?" and "Was Beijing fun?"
Looking at the vibrant smiling faces before him, he suddenly felt that all the hard work of the past ten years had been worthwhile.
That evening, he sat under the lamp and opened the sketchbook. On the last page, beside the ginkgo tree path, he had added a line of small words: "Zhi Xia, we are all walking towards the light. Look, the road is bright."
The moonlight outside the window fell on the paper like a thin veil. In the distance, the murmur of children in their sleep drifted in, mingling with the rustling of sunflowers in the wind, as gentle as a lullaby.
Zheng Yiming closed the book and walked to the window. The stars in the sky were very bright, like Shen Zhixia's smiling eyes. He knew that in the days to come, he would continue to guard this mountain, these children, and the light in his heart, walking on year after year.
It's not about atonement, but about passing on—passing on the apologies that were never spoken, passing on the tenderness that was betrayed, passing on the most precious things left in this world by that girl who, like a sunflower, always faced the light.
A gentle mountain breeze blew by, carrying the sweet scent of sunflowers. A faint, relieved smile appeared on Zheng Yiming's lips.
Perhaps this is the best ending.
Not all regrets can be made up for, and not all missed opportunities can be undone, but as long as there is light in our hearts, the road ahead will never be dark. And those we have loved, suffered, and regretted will eventually become stars in the sky, illuminating our way forward, until very, very far away.
—The End—
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