Stepping out the door, I collided with the gentle breeze.
The wind carried the scent of dew and gardenias, standing alone by the riverbank. Gazing at the spring water before me and the willow tree, I seemed to hear that voice again...
It was a winter, the cold wind ruthlessly tearing at the branches, leaves piled upon leaves. I walked over the fallen leaves, accompanied by the crisp crunching sound with each step. However, this did not bring me any joy. The words of my math teacher echoed in my ears: “The final exam is coming soon, and you only have a vague understanding of such simple proof questions. What should we do? How can you learn math well?” The failure in the exam severely dampened my enthusiasm, and time and again, I wanted to give up.
Passing by the Xiang River by chance, I looked up, and the river surface rolled under the roar of the wind, while an inconspicuous tree stump caught my attention. I walked closer, the bronze-colored branches of the stump twisted in the cold wind. It seemed to emit a faint groan. I reached out to touch its cross-section, which was surprisingly smooth as a mirror. I counted its growth rings, each circle representing a year of life. But what was the use? It was ultimately mercilessly destroyed by a saw. I thought it probably shared my fate; that spark of enthusiasm we once had had long been extinguished.
I gradually began to slack off, especially in math; I grew weary of everything related to it. Weeks passed, and I deliberately took a detour to see that willow tree, but the scene before me shocked me. From the cracks of the original stump, a tender sprout had emerged, standing against the wind, proclaiming the stump's rebirth. The sunlight shone on its leaves, seemingly outshining even the morning star. The new leaves waved with green ripples, which was the luster of life—a spark of enthusiasm deep within. I couldn't help but imagine the stump's struggle; it desperately absorbed nutrients during the day, and at night, when all was quiet, it worked hard to grow upwards, finally regaining its brilliance just in time for spring. I seemed to hear the sound of the stump sprouting, no, that wasn't the sound of sprouting! That was the sound of a seed filled with a spirit of adventure.
The stump, having survived near destruction, could also achieve rebirth through its daring spirit. Why couldn't I? I secretly resolved to work hard, so every day I sang while wandering through the sea of problems. Whenever I thought of giving up, I would always think of that sound, and I knew that as long as I persisted with that spirit of adventure, I would surely succeed.
Opening my eyes, the river surface still rippled before me. As the clouds and mist dispersed, I finally understood that there is always such a voice that helps one regain their spirit of adventure.