Chapter 1
In the forest, there stands a pine tree. It is the only pine tree in this forest. No one knows how long it has been there, which year or month it appeared, or why it grew in this place.
The pine tree has lived for an incredibly long time, growing taller with each passing year, wearing a dark green, melancholy cloak, standing lonely in the deep forest day after day.Whenever the wind blows, its branches sway, producing a rustling sound.
At those moments, the animals in the forest would say: "Listen! The pine tree is singing again. The wind has risen!"
But only the pine tree knows that this is the sound of its heart.Why can't anyone understand what it's saying? The pine tree thought sadly, then it shook its slender branches and let out an increasingly heavy sigh.
Many, many years passed just like that.
Spring came, and the pine tree still stood there alone, watching countless colorful birds flying around, but none of them wanted to land on its branches.
It saw the trees around it sprouting new, fresh, and transparent green leaves, while it still wore the same dark, melancholy cloak as before.
In summer, the sound of cicadas, like ocean waves, crashed rhythmically against the tree trunks, making them sway gently, softly caressing like clusters of seaweed and coral in the vast ocean.
Autumn arrived, and the trees in the forest began shedding their leaves. One by one, they changed from deep summer green to golden yellow, to earthy brown, to light brown, and then to bright red...
The pine tree thought: How beautiful!
Each leaf, before it withered, would softly sing, bidding farewell to summer.
They sang in different voices: "Goodbye, goodbye. Next summer, we will return... Next summer, we will come back..."
The pine tree thought: This song, this farewell, and this sound of rebirth... how beautiful. Melancholy yet beautiful. Melancholy yet warm.
But its own pine needles remained in place, gently swaying in the increasingly chilly autumn wind, making sounds that no one understood.
Winter arrived, and white snow fell upon the forest. The bare trees, devoid of leaves, sank into peaceful slumber under the blanket of snow, dreaming of the fresh green of the coming year.
But the pine tree, still wearing its old cloak, stood awake in that spot. It couldn’t sleep.
The forest in winter was very quiet. Even the squirrels, who usually jumped up and down, even the birds, who always chirped, and even the bears, with their heavy footsteps, made no sound at all.
The pine tree looked up at the endlessly falling snow, feeling as though in this entire world, it was the only one left... And so, many years passed, and the pine tree gradually became the most silent tree in the forest. The other plants and animals no longer spoke to it either.
The pine tree said nothing; only when the wind rose did it sway its countless leaves, producing a rustling sound. Many more years passed, many springs, many summers and autumns, and many winters with silent white snow.
After countless years, on a warm late spring afternoon, as the pine tree was watching a chrysanthemum flower at its base talk to a mushroom that had just sprouted after the rain, a small butterfly suddenly appeared, fluttered a few times, and then landed on it.
The pine tree felt very strange. It was a very small butterfly, with delicate antennae and moist pink and white wings, likely having just emerged from its cocoon.
The pine tree carefully pulled back all its leaves, afraid of hurting the tiny wings.
At that moment, it heard the chrysanthemum say to the mushroom, "So, you just sprouted today, didn’t you?"
"Yes, after the rain yesterday, I stretched out from the muddy soil and bathed in the bright, radiant sunlight!" the mushroom said, as if immensely proud of its words, nodding its large head seriously and smiling at the chrysanthemum.
The chrysanthemum, in admiration, said, "You speak just like a poet!" She excitedly swayed her small, pale yellow petals.
The pine tree found their conversation rather dull, so it looked back down at the butterfly resting on its branches.
She was leisurely flying around, fluttering across its pine needles. Her tiny head, as small as a pea, looked around as if she were incredibly busy. The pine tree found her to be a very interesting butterfly.
The mushroom solemnly said to the chrysanthemum, "When someone patiently endures in the darkness for a long time before finally seeing the sunlight, that person will develop thoughts of their own." He twirled his cap, trying to emphasize: "Yes, exactly. They will form thoughts of their own!"
The chrysanthemum nodded in admiration. At that moment, the butterfly suddenly spoke up: "Alright, this pine tree is mine!"
The pine tree jumped in surprise (of course, it couldn’t actually jump) and looked down at the butterfly. She was on tiptoes, fluttering her wings, gently circling around its top, then stopped, nodded with satisfaction, and was immensely proud of "her pine tree."
She began muttering to herself again: "Although this pine tree isn’t all that great, I can accept it... Yes, that’s it, I choose it!"
The pine tree couldn’t help but speak in a low voice: "Hey, how did I become yours?"
The butterfly said, "Of course, I said you're mine. I’ve accepted you, and you’re not even happy about it? Don’t worry, I won’t abandon you!"
The pine tree jumped again: "You... you can understand me?" He skeptically asked the butterfly, "For as long as I can remember, no one in this forest has ever understood what I’m saying. Whenever I speak, they just think the wind has risen!"
The butterfly stroked her antennae, smugly saying, "Really? I understood you immediately. Maybe they’re just too dumb! I’m a very clever butterfly!".
She carefully adjusted her outfit and elegantly sat atop the high pine tree.
She was a very arrogant and carefree little butterfly. Having just emerged from her cocoon less than an hour ago, with her wings not yet fully dry, she already believed that everything in the world belonged to her. Finding such a large and sturdy place like the pine tree to call home, she was quite satisfied.
"Hey! Silly pine tree, I’m going to sleep now, don’t shake and wake me up!" The butterfly yawned and grabbed onto a pine needle, calling down from above.
The pine tree said nothing, quietly holding still. When the wind blew, he did his best to keep his pine needles from moving.
At the base of the tree, the chrysanthemum and the mushroom found it strange. Why wasn’t the pine tree making any rustling sounds when the wind blew today??
