Feeling PleasureXu
Xiao, West China Area

　　 Relationship between Chengdu and Chongqing has been like a tender and graceful woman and a strong and masculine man falling in love with and leaning close to each other. One May night, I, standing in one street in Yulin, was sensing the different feelings of the city. Some friend says, if you compare Chengdu to a graceful lady, Yulin must be her most attractive part. A grand play of colors in Yulin is reflected in water pools in the ground, colorful neon lights are shining in countless bars along the street, a scene of peace and calmness. Warm atmosphere is penetrating every corner of the air, and you are feeling standing among booming flowers. Find a seat, sit down, look around, talk boldly and drink for the whole night.

　　The next day, I arrived in the Snow Mountain, Xiling Ridge. Along the route, the guide blurted out the poem, “Viewing thick snow in Xiling Ridge through the window, boats of east Wu are berthing at the gate”. In half dreaming, I only saw the Huanhua Stream at the gate of Du Fu’s house. Gone is the boat of east Wu, and the thick snow in Xiling Ridge has been a dream, too. Though I didn’t see snow, I saw rain instead. Taking the cable to the mountain, I saw great stretches of unknown flowers below. They are lonely, standing alone and aloof. On wet days, I became gloomy on seeing them. They bud, bloom, prosper, fade, and wither here monotonously, day after year, year after year. Getting off the cable, I felt coolness surrounded me and misted rain decorated the mountain into a man with feminine beauty, laden with sorrow and charm, more alluring than evil spirits, more graceful than fair ladies. With such cloud and fog, I couldn’t see far. I felt myself flying in the mid-air, floating in cloud and fog, appealing and fantastic.
　　Rain floating in the gloomy air, cool wind soaking into my wet clothes, I felt cold through. It was a wonderful moment for enjoying hot spring, and there is one at the mountain foot. I was feeling a pleasant moment while bathing in the hot spring, seeing dimming mountains, thinly scattered raindrops and cold night wind melting into the water. Under the gray sky, the wind became colder and colder, and thick vapor, emerging from the water, is just like boiled ducks floating in the wind.
　　With a pleasant feeling of being free from hustle and bustle of city life, I returned, immersing in fantasy. Where will we go when we celebrate the fourth, fifth and the countless anniversary of the founding of Transin? As if in dream, sophora flowers are blossoming everywhere…