【Original Work】The Moon

I stood under the dark night sky and looked up at the moon.
I shouldn’t be standing here. I should have gone home quickly, set my alarm, and gone to bed early to get ready for tomorrow’s work.
But still, here I stand.
I close my eyes, and the neighborhood sprinkled with silver light disappears, then the infinite darkness takes its place. Maybe for a few seconds, maybe for a minute, a humming song slowly swings into my ears, going from seemingly nowhere to be found, to clear to be heard, yet as peaceful and serene as ever.


When I was a child, I always believed that the moon would follow me.
I used to run back and forth across the glistening white night streets until I was out of breath, looking back from time to time, wanting to see if the moon would follow me, and it was there every time.
I told my mother about this discovery, and she smiled gently at me, who was gesturing frantically. The kind of smile grown-ups would give when they look at an ignorant child.
"The moon won’t follow people, that's your illusion, dear. The moon won’t follow anyone."
I desperately searched my brain, trying to organize my words, trying to prove my point.
But she just looked at me quietly and continued smiling.


When I was six years old, I slipped out of the house one night and sat on the front steps, staring blankly into the silent world. The sound of a quarrel seeped faintly through the door crack, but I had long since stopped paying attention there.
I raised my head and gazed up at the full moon in the sky.
It was rare for us to see the moon here; the sky was almost always covered by gray clouds, both during the day and at night. But today, the moon was peeking out from behind the clouds, quietly gazing down at the Earth.
I like the moon, I even like it more than the sun. Is it because the sun is too bright? When I want to look at the sun, my eyes will always be pricked by the intense light, so I have to keep my head down.
But the moon is different. I can look at it all night long if I want to. The moonlight isn’t like sunlight. It doesn't carry the momentum of sweeping everything away, but simply spreads silently across the earth.

Before one can know, the surroundings seem to melt into this transparent silence gradually. And I remained motionless, unaware of how much time had passed.

Suddenly, a hint of humming crossed over the vague roar behind the door and drifted into my ears.
Without looking, without guessing, I knew immediately that it was the sound of the moon.
The soft hum grew clearer and clearer, transforming from a few intermittent syllables into a melodious tune that floated through the air, circling me. I closed my eyes, and my breathing slowed to the rhythm of the melody. A cool breeze carried the subtle fragrance of grass, brushing past my nose. Everything grew quiet, everything drifted further and further away from me.

Later, I heard that I had fallen asleep on the steps. Standing in front of my father, in the reprimand that was poured down on me like rain, that little melody of the moon still echoed in my head.

After that, I bought a portable tape recorder with the pocket money I had saved and bought back the first book about music in my life. I repeated that familiar melody in my head, capturing the blurred notes with my throat and tongue over and over again.
But all this is nothing more than a patchwork of “correctness.” There are no mistakes, and the "no mistakes" were everything there ever was.
However, even this poor imitation was eventually forgotten by me. During the day, I sat at the desk in the classroom, and at night, I leaned over the desk in my room. Exams and homework tests flowed by like raw materials on an assembly line; after I finish processing them, they flow to distant places again. Reading, analyzing, filling in, and turning pages... I repeated the process, the anxious urging of my parents and the disappointed sighs of my teachers beside my ears becoming the background noise of my daily life. I never again stepped out of my house at night, never again searched for the moon’s whereabouts.

Until that day, on that day, the envelope that would determine my fate arrived in my mailbox, and with bated breath, I pulled out the piece of paper that weighed like a thousand pounds.
All I remember after that was my mother's sobbing and my father's grumbling. Deep down, I wasn't surprised by the outcome, but I still fled.
I ran out into the street, gasping for air, wanting just to keep running like this, and never look back.
At the time when my head was buzzing, at the time when I ran aimlessly, a familiar yet unfamiliar humming caught up with me after a long absence.

I stopped in my tracks, only then noticing that my surroundings had already been colored with silver white.
I turned to look into the darkness of the night, and the bright moon was silently facing me in the night sky behind me.
How long has it been since I last heard it?

The melody slowly whirled around me, blending with my involuntary humming, and it was as if the whole world was left with just this moment.
My tears rushed out, and in the empty street, I squatted down and let out the cry. I cried and cried and cried until my last tear was shed. Then, with the accompaniment of the melody, with the gaze of the moon, I stood up and walked toward home.

Late that night, I created a personal radio station and named it "The Melody of Moon". When I clicked the publish button on the first melody, the moonlight sprinkled around my desk.

Now I open my eyes. But what I see is not the moon.
Two strangers stood before me, their shadows stretched long under the moon, and the crisp black suit sliced open the moonlight.

One of them opens his mouth.
Their identity, some kind of mission, and their relationship to me... Amid his relentless word-pouring, I caught only a few key words: the moon, secret information, and deciphering.
It is related to national security. The other man went on.
I don't understand anything. I told them.
Before I could finish, the first man pulled out a file with my personal radio information, with the words "The Melody of Moon " circled prominently.
I'm sure we've got the right person. The second man gave a sure smile, a smile that could not be refuted.

Well, let's go, Mr. “Translator”.
The moonlight was gradually blocked by dark clouds, and their shadows became blurred in the night.
He held out his hand, suspended in mid-air.
I knew I had no choice.

I took one last look at the moon. It was still there.
Will you follow me this time?
The melody remains as melodious as ever.