Cinnamon's Old Days

Old times in cinnamon The September wind carried the fragrance of osmanthus and spread over the bluestone road. Su Wan was squatting in front of the mailbox at the entrance of the old alley, rubbing a yellowed postcard with her fingertips. There is no signature on the postcard, only a line of beautiful handwriting: "The sweet-scented osmanthus blooms again. You said you would be like it." This is the third anonymous postcard she has received. The first two are sandwiched between "Jane Eyre" in the library and in the drawer of the old desk. The handwriting is exactly the same. Su Wan is a Chinese teacher at a municipal middle school and has just taken over the second grade (3) class. During roll call in the first class, as soon as the word "Le Xiao" was spoken, a tough-looking boy in the audience immediately raised his hand: "Teacher, my grandfather's surname is also Le. He said that this surname is pronounced yuè, not lè!" The classroom burst into laughter, but Su Wan was suddenly stunned. This surname is like a key, opening up dusty memories. She thought of her Chinese teacher in junior high school, Mr. Le. He always wears blue shirts that have been washed white, with the cuffs rolled up to his forearms. During his lectures, he will talk about poetry and songs and the fireworks in the market - he said that when he was young, he traveled all over the country, listened to the old people talking about ancient times under the osmanthus tree, and watched the craftsmen making sugar paintings at the entrance of the alley. At the end, he would always add: "Chinese language is not in the textbooks, but in the folds of life." At that time, Su Wan was very partial to subjects. Mathematics was a red light all year round, but only Chinese was at the top of the grade. She always hid in the corner of the classroom reading extracurricular books, thinking that she was an inconspicuous little transparent person, until Mr. Le called her to the office after a monthly exam. "I see that you annotated "Jane Eyre" very carefully." The gentleman handed over a cup of warm osmanthus tea, the fragrance of which lingered. "But life is not a one-way street. Being partial to science is like walking with only one foot, and you won't get far." That afternoon, the husband told her his story. When he was young, he was partial to academic subjects and relied on studying his weaknesses to get into the normal school. He also taught in the countryside for thirty years and sent batches of children out of the mountains. "I hope you can make sweet-scented osmanthus without being ostentatious, but spreading the fragrance to every corner." The husband said, "You should not only keep your passion, but also try to embrace the world that you are not good at." On her graduation day, Mr. Le gave her a copy of "Jane Eyre", with the same words written on the title page as on the postcard. Later, Su Wan was admitted to the normal school, but missed her classmates' reunion due to an accident, and she lost contact with Mr. Le. She had wanted to visit her alma mater many times, but she was afraid that she was not good enough and would not live up to her husband's expectations. "Teacher, do you know my grandpa?" Le Xiao chased him out after class, holding an old photo in his hand, "My grandpa said he used to teach here and liked growing osmanthus the most." In the photo, young Mr. Le stood under the laurel tree with a gentle smile, exactly as Su Wan remembered. Over the weekend, Su Wan followed Le Xiao to a nursing home on the outskirts of the city. Pushing open the door of the small courtyard, the fragrance of cinnamon filled the courtyard hit my face. An old man with white hair was sitting under the tree pruning the flower branches, his movements were slow but serious. "Grandpa, I'm bringing our Chinese teacher to see you!" The old man turned around and his eyes lit up when he saw Su Wan: "Are you... Su Wan?" Su Wan's nose felt sour and her eyes were red: "Teacher Le, I'm here to see you." Thirty years seemed to be crushed by cinnamon. Those unspoken thanks and the guilt hidden in my heart turned into hot tears at this moment. Mr. Le held her hand and asked her about her work and life. When he talked about the students back then, his tone was full of joy. "I asked Xiaoxiao to send those postcards." The gentleman said with a smile, "I learned from your classmates that you have also become a teacher, so I wanted to tell you that you did a good job, bringing the fragrance to the students like the sweet-scented osmanthus." As the sun set, the petals of the sweet-scented osmanthus fell, falling on their shoulders. Su Wan suddenly understood that true inheritance is never vigorous, but like cinnamon, nourishing people's hearts silently and endlessly as the years go by. She recalled that in her class, she often taught students about Chinese in daily life, about the courage in "Jane Eyre" and about the humility of sweet-scented osmanthus. It turns out that the time she remembered has quietly grown into her. When leaving, Su Wan picked off a sprig of sweet-scented osmanthus and tucked it into the textbook she carried with her. The wind blew and the fragrance of cinnamon overflowed, just like Mr. Le's words, gentle but firm, guiding her to go further step by step on the road of teaching and educating people. Intention: Growth is when a person goes further step by step