A Bunch of Daffodils        by Wang Yi Jie 王奕潔

When the last patch of orange sky was devoured by night, the moon came out. 

I saw a little girl holding a bunch of daffodils softly in her arms, walking hastily on a narrow trail meandering up a small hill. The night wind was somewhat chilly.  The little girl seemed to heed nothing about her thin cloth, but the way home. The sweet night was embraced by a gentle silence. Nothing was heard but the whispering wind. The little girl walked hastily yet steadily without making a sound, just like most little girls would do in a graceful manner. Because of the dim moonlight, it was hard for me to discern what the little girl looked like, nor what she wore. But it was roughly known that a cheerful expression was glowing on her face. 

Those daffodils were from a nearby lake below the hill. “It must have been just picked as a gift on this very Valentine’s Day,” I thought to myself. A sweet fragrance was brought by the chilly wind. Yet it was hard for me to distinguish whether it came from the daffodils or simply the freshness of a country night. For both of these seemed to be mixed in an unusual harmony. 

One of her red shoes was lost on her way home, though she did not know when or where she lost it. She just kept on walking and walking without stopping. She was so eager to bring the bunch of daffodils home. She was so eager to see the beloved face of her mom. She was so eager to be hugged tightly in those loving arms. Her enthusiasm almost took her breath away. 

Darkness invaded. The night was getting deeper and deeper, exerting a lethargic charm on all creatures. The moonlight was flicking behind the wandering clouds, casting patchy shadows of foliage on the trail. But the little girl seemed to be afraid of nothing. She was so attentive to her own happy thoughts that she ignored the ominous atmosphere around her.

She is a brave girl.  It is love that gave her courage.

A small cottage was getting larger and larger in her eyes. She drew nearer to her home. Standing on the doorstep, she knocked the door with great efforts. Her hands were too weak to let anyone hear her. 

I was a solitary, homeless traveler without any companion. Out of curiosity and tiredness, I was tailing along the little girl, hoping to find a place to stay for the night. When I saw her standing before the door without receiving any answer, I took my chance to knock the door for her.

I knocked the door for her with a helping smile. The little girl only remained silent behind me without answering. I supposed I would receive a warm hospitality from her mother when that bunch of daffodils promised her a pleasant mood. After a while, the door was slightly opened. The light pouring from the door was stabbing like a spear. I squinted through the door for my eyes had been used to the dim moonlight.

“Who are you?” sobbed a woman with a low voice. Her eyes were all red with weeping.

Her unexpected grief-worn face stunned me.

“I…” 

Out of embarrassment, I avoided her gaze and cast a glance into the house. I saw something covered with a white, wet sheet. Two little feet were revealed. With only one red shoe, the little feet lied coldly and palely on the floor. 

My heart twisted. Tentatively, I slowly turned my head to see the little girl behind me. I saw nothing. Only the fragrance of daffodils lingered, murmuring in the soft whisper of chilly wind.