Alpine Rhododendron

#Firstperson Do you know how to say Alpine Rhododendron in Tibetan? བལ་བ་བདུན་ལྡན།—— Barvadundam. The old people said that she was the daughter of the mountain god of the Meili Snow Mountain. She had roots in the cracks of the rocks and flowers blooming on the cliffs. She dared to let the petals reflect the strongest light of the sky, but she would quietly bend the branches to lead the lost herdsmen out of the vast snow and fog. Sanchi's voice floated along the wind of the prayer flags, carrying the heat of the plateau sunshine, but there was a subtle melancholy hidden in the end. Lan Yingjuan clumsily followed her words, and the white snow light fell on her shoulders and into the corners of her pursed mouth. The cheongsam material on her body is pressed tightly. This is her obedience for more than 20 years, and it is the last dignity in life that cannot go wrong. But the failure in the postgraduate entrance examination was like a slap in the face, shattering her life of a good child from a self-reliant to a polite child. So she dragged her "unfashionable" cheongsam and fled to the Tibetan village closest to the sky, where she became a teacher for a group of plateau children. She thought she was here to "give", but she was accepted here first. The salty fragrance of butter tea warms the frozen bones, the wind from the highland barley field blows the hem of the cheongsam, and the Barwadundam picked by the children is pinned to her temples. The petals are stained with morning dew, and they are always less bright than her smile. Sanji was the first person to affirm her failed life. This Tibetan boy with a bay-red horse that can catch up with the sunset is familiar with the temperament of every stream, but occasionally when he hears the word "city", he will subconsciously frown. He has seen too many people who came out of the snow-capped mountains and brought back the impetuousness outside. He has also seen too many people who never came back. In his eyes, the reinforced concrete jungle is a more dangerous maze than the snow-capped mountains. He helped her identify the cuckoos on the cliffside, taught her to sing ancient songs in Tibetan, and when she huddled up from the cold, he handed her hot butter tea wrapped in sheepskin. He saw her stumbling around in the pasture wearing a Tibetan robe, the hem of her skirt catching the Gesang flowers, but he smiled with crooked eyebrows. Lan Yingjuan would also tell him about the neon lights in the city, the lights in the library, and the fantasies about "freedom" she had secretly hidden during those days of discipline. She watched the resistance in the young man's eyes melt away little by little, like melting water from snowy mountains, flowing through dry land. The prayer flags are buzzing, and the snow-capped mountains stand silently. Two people from different worlds, in the place closest to the sky, quietly healed each other with a beam of snow light and a cuckoo. The heartbeat is restrained, like the petals of Balvadundan, blooming on the edge of an unknown cliff; but it is also turbulent, like a stream formed by melted snow, flowing over the mountains and rivers, over the years, growing silently. In the plateau where oxygen is thin, some things are so strong that it makes people breathless. The hunting mountain wind covered up the young man's erratic final voice: "Do you still want to leave here?" Support teacher Lan Yingjuan* Tibetan boy Sangji Purpose: Maintain your firm and kind soul