One Can Live Without Meat and Fish, But Not Without Beautiful Scenery

The three farming-culture-themed parks—Zhongwu Park, Beiwu Park and Yujiao Country Park—are connected, and adjacent to them, separated only by a road, is Yinghulou Park; these linked gardens together comprise over a thousand mu.

In spring, golden rapeseed flowers and March orchids cover the hillsides, and sage carpeting the ground is refreshing to the heart. In summer, the lush green rice paddies stretch to the horizon, the lotus ponds dotted among them are exquisitely lovely, and the terraced fields in graceful layers have their own charm. Along the tree-lined avenues stand tender-yellow scholar trees, their blossoms shedding wafts of fragrance; listening to cicadas and reading in such a setting truly makes one feel not of this world. In autumn, the ripe rice is golden too; stretches of smoke trees and ginkgoes, with their countless red and yellow leaves, set each other off, weaving together a colorful world. In winter, the blanket of white snow turns the place into a sea of forests and snowfields, where green pines and emerald bamboos stand out vividly against the vast snowy expanse.

Those who live in the western suburbs of Haidian are fortunate; the greening at the foot of Xiangshan, Xishan and Yuquanshan ranks among the best in all of Beijing. It is quiet amid the bustle, right next to the bustling Haidian tech and cultural center, yet without a trace of city air; vast farmland and green belts have forged here a land of peach-blossom spring. Xiangshan, the Summer Palace and the Old Summer Palace are all close by; these popular tourist sites are always thronged, whereas these little-known country parks are sparsely populated.

If, like me, you are someone born in a farming family who loves nature, perhaps one glance is enough to make you love this garden. I live near Zizhu Bridge, not far from the western suburbs, and cycling to this garden takes less than half an hour. The ride here also passes along tree-lined avenues under scholar trees. Although I live a day-to-day repetitive life that seems monotonous, honestly, in such surroundings, repeating this simple and interesting life is, personally, a great delight.

I have never thought of abandoning this life for another. In my more than twenty years in Beijing, I have never once even stepped through the gate of the Forbidden City. I am not much interested in the magnificent buildings of this bustling city; I prefer the wild charm among these mountains and waters. Although this garden is maintained, it preserves its natural look to the greatest extent. The streams flowing down from Yuquanshan irrigate these fertile fields; this has always been prime farmland with ample water and grain, and it still basically retains its original appearance—truly not easy.

The rice and rapeseed here have cured my homesickness. I once so longed to return home, to those endless paddies and rapeseed fields, but finally discovered here that everything I had yearned for day and night was right before my eyes. Although it still lacks a bit of rooster crowing and dog barking, and there is no curling kitchen smoke, the mossy field ridges and the wild, untrammeled terraced fields are enough to give me back all the joy of childhood.

I have always thanked Fortune for giving birth to me in a farming family, and once wrote an article titled Fortunate to Be Born a Farmer in This Life. Because rural life is so close to the essence of life, it made me understand deeply, at a very young age, that all external splendor is as insubstantial as a fleeting wisp of cloud; in the process of contact with nature and with the soil, human beings can produce the most real, deepest and most reliable joy and happiness.

I am very grateful to my parents for bringing me into this world and, from childhood, having me grow accustomed to a life of plain fare. When we take delight in the simplest life, no difficulty can daunt us. Most of the time I feel I am a happy person, and feel my life has no regrets. Except for those moments of parting from loved ones, I rarely sigh in sorrow.

At my present age, I have become detached from parting and death. One day I too must bid farewell to this world; I hope to leave it with a smile, and I hope my family and friends will talk and laugh at my funeral rather than grieve. I hope they understand that my life has had a freedom like a heavenly steed soaring across the skies, that I have enjoyed all the quiet blessings I wanted, that no suffering has ever defeated me, and that life has not had the power to crush me, so they need not be sad for me.

Perhaps my easily-happy disposition has to do with genes, but I myself prefer to connect it with the life I lived in the countryside as a child. We roamed freely in the mountains and woods; we splashed unconstrained in rivers and ponds; we came into close contact with all kinds of plants and animals between heaven and earth. These happy experiences left deep imprints in our minds. Those imprints tell me, at every moment, that life is joyful, and that this joy is so easily won; we have no reason to fear, be anxious, grieve or sorrow.

So when I return to the mountains and forests, return to the midst of the fields, every cell in my body rejoices, and the memories tied to my childhood are all awakened. Ah! How wonderful this life is! How generous nature is! It not only grants us food, but grants us beautiful scenery. Enjoying its gifts, what is there left for us to be dissatisfied about?

A happy person also has a peaceful heart; a happy person does not feel wronged, nor does he feel fate is unfair. What I am most grateful for is not the high social status Fortune bestowed, nor the great wealth it gave me, but the contented, easily-happy disposition it gave me.

Status, fame and wealth are all fragile; they are here today and may vanish tomorrow. The vanity a person pursues with the blood and sweat of a lifetime may be no match for the waves of upheaval. Only this contented, easily-happy disposition always lets us neither rejoice over external gains nor grieve over personal losses.

I have seen all sorts of people toiling for life; most have worry written across their faces and anger and grief in their hearts, with endless worries and fears—poverty, illness, life and death all can make them restless. I have also seen many people single-mindedly seeking liberation, lost in all kinds of beliefs, reveries and abstract talk, yet their inner unease has not actually diminished much.

For this reason I am all the more grateful to Fortune; the nature it gave me means I do not, like these two types of people, have to go through twists and turns to find joy. It gave me a self-sufficient, complete heart, always brimming over. It lets me, in the mountains, in the fields, among clumps of wild flowers and grasses, naturally bring forth immense happiness.

Then let me return to nature! Let me fly here, quietly and happily. Even if tomorrow I may lose everything, including my life, at least today, here in nature, in this Saha world formed by every blade of grass and tree, I have once been so happy and at peace.