Anonymous greatly admires this piece—delicate yet vivid. May everyone appreciate it. (Reposted)

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Li Bai once praised it in verse:

“Jinci’s flowing waters are like green jade.”

To my eyes, this Spring Rain Pond is no less beautiful than the Never-Old Spring. Spring water is always moving, and can hardly settle into a single piece of jade; but the pond lies still, gentle and lovely, like a flawless emerald.

The lake is a deep green, as though someone had draped it in a veil as thin as a cicada’s wing. One hardly dares to breathe deeply, fearing that the slightest breath might tear it.

The ancient lake, its tiny waves rippling, glitters beneath the sunlight. Graceful willow branches, like a young girl’s freshly washed hair, drift lightly in the reflected shimmer, dreamlike and unreal. At this moment, Dongting Lake is calm and immense, as natural as a realm of poetry.

The pond remains still as a mirror, clearly reflecting the leaping flames, the shifting firelight, and the jade toad in the blue heavens.

The sun has already set, yet its light is reflected from beneath the clouds. A crimson glow falls upon the lake, making it seem to burn. Everything around it loses its original color, swallowed by the red radiance.

Suddenly, something brightened before my eyes. I hurried forward and discovered a clear artificial lake, like a great mirror in the countryside, reflecting the blue sky and white clouds. The water was limpid; when a breeze passed over it, ripples spread in waves of glittering gold.

With a sharp chirp, a swallow flew in, its pointed tail trailing behind as it skimmed across the water, stirring a ring of ripples. In the lake, fish rose to the surface. Some blew strings of bubbles; some chased and played with one another; some hid beneath lotus leaves as if beneath little umbrellas; others followed their mothers in carefree, leisurely circles.

The withered lotus stems in the pond before the gate would suddenly tremble violently from time to time. Then a red carp would leap, lively and bright, breaking through the deathlike stillness of the water.

No waves stirred upon the lake. The boat seemed to glide across a sheet of glass. The rippling water, smooth and tender green, resembled the fine grain of silk.

Looking into the distance, the colors grew deeper and deeper until they gradually became a dark emerald. I raised my eyes to the sky and watched the clouds drift lazily. Looking down into the heart of the lake, I saw another sky, where cloud shadows wandered.

The mountains on both shores stood inverted in the lake, all of them a luxuriant green, accompanying the travelers with quiet affection. Just when it seemed we had reached the end, we rounded a bend and found the same mountains and the same water once more. I longed for a little variety, but after traveling one hundred and twenty miles from north to south, the landscape still retained the same unchanging grace.

Compared with the tempestuous waves of Dongting Lake, Mirror-Park Lake is calm and serene. Compared with the vast, rounded expanse of Taihu Lake, Mirror-Park Lake resembles a great river without a ripple. Great Bright Lake, beside it, is merely a pool of clear water. West Lake, in comparison, is like—

“a lovely young woman, with low spring mountains and autumn waters in her eyes,”

while Mirror-Park Lake is like a plain, natural maiden, chaste and quietly self-contained.

Looking far into the distance, I saw brilliant, limpid water and sails scattered here and there. The little islands in the lake were like pieces of green jade set amid the radiance of the water and mountains, so delicate and touching that they seemed almost painfully beautiful.

The lake was simply too alluring, especially in such sultry weather. I approached the shore, and at once the layer of heat before me vanished.

The water surged and flashed, as though a sheet of gold had been laid upon its surface. Even my hands seemed unable to resist; I gently lowered them into the water.

Ah! The refreshing sensation was beyond description. Fine ripples softly caressed the white marble embankment. The trembling autumn waters drifted back and forth beneath the Bridge of Knowing Fish. The green islands, each like a glistening pearl, were set into the lake; at first glance, they seemed like green waves rolling among the clouds.

Scattered among the green trees of Thousand-Island Lake, the colored sails looked especially lovely. From above, the clear water was patterned with scales of wind-raised ripples, like borders of lace appearing and vanishing by turns. The sound of the pines was deep and melodious, stirring the imagination like an ancient legend. The slender white reeds swayed in the breeze, displaying a beauty uniquely their own—so delicate and tender that one could not bear to touch them.

The sun sank toward the west. Its blood-red afterglow dyed half the sky crimson, while the lake flushed faintly, like the shy face of a young girl.

Close against the hillside lay a reservoir enclosed by towering mountains. Its water was green as a cat’s eyes, so intense that it inspired awe.

Looking down upon Foothill Lake from the Hongque Tower, I saw several exquisite little pavilions standing upon the water. Jade-green waves shimmered across the lake, and golden sunlight spilled over its surface, making it seem as if hundreds and thousands of brilliant gems were flashing with dazzling light.

Ah, the water of Peach Blossom Pool is truly green—as though it were a flawless emerald. The rippling autumn water carries a touch of coolness. Look!

Several withered lotus leaves lay scattered across Peach Blossom Pool. Their edges had already turned yellow, yet clear beads of water mischievously hid upon them. Beneath the dying lotus, red goldfish wandered among the stems. The maple trees on either side cast uneven, mottled shadows—yellow, green, red, white, and black.

The little pond in spring is beautiful because of one word: stillness. It is so still that one feels it is not a stretch of water at all, but a meadow—a lush, crystalline green meadow.

The blue sky, green trees, and white clouds all leave their lovely reflections in its embrace. Threads of quiet thought seem to seep through the tranquil jade waves.

From this eternal stillness comes an extraordinary clarity. Fish swimming along the bottom and grains of sand and stone enter the eye without concealment. Naturally, these are not the eyes of a recluse, but a pair of eyes burning with the fire of hope.

The little pond in spring is also beautiful because of one word: movement. It is like a green silk ribbon whose form is forever changing, so beautiful and pure in its color. Under the sunlight, sparkling waves leap up like falling blossoms, like scattered gold. Within every tiny patch of light, a little spirit seems to glitter, expand, contract, and tremble. When the breeze passes over the water, line after line of ripples arises and slowly advances from one side to the other.

Then another blossom appears, and another. The boundaries once so clear upon the water become like a faint line of ink on rice paper. Beneath the hazy gauze of mist that gathers in the empty spaces, they gradually spread and eventually grow blurred and indistinct.

The desert is monotonous and lonely, yet it is also so vast and open-hearted. Here, one may let the wild horse of thought gallop freely across its boundless reaches.

At dusk, Sailimu Lake gradually turns deep blue. Sky and lake merge into one, and it becomes impossible to tell whether the sky has dyed the water blue or the water has dyed the sky.

At noon, beneath brilliant sunlight, Sailimu Lake resembles a length of shimmering satin. Green grass and red flowers, white sheep and yellow cattle, gray camels and golden horses seem like clouds of color drifting along the shore.

Thousand-Island Lake is not a natural lake. After the Xin’an River Hydroelectric Station was completed, an artificial lake covering eight hundred and sixty thousand mu was formed upstream—an area equivalent to more than one hundred West Lakes. Because the water level rose by nearly one hundred meters, some peaks sank beneath the surface, while others became islands in the green water. These islands were the mountains I had seen standing in the lake. Large and small, they number one thousand and seventy-eight, which is why the lake was given the beautiful name Thousand-Island Lake.

The broad surface of the lake passes beneath the jade-colored Seventeen-Arch Bridge, stretches its arms toward the blue heavens in the distance, and finally melts into the pale mist.

When autumn is high and the air crisp, the distant lake is filled with shining traces of water, gently undulating. Layer upon layer of waves presses toward the shore, striking the stones.

Coldness lies within the water, as though it had been clarified and purified, with every dark color sinking to the bottom. Wisps of water vapor drift upon the surface as the autumn wind turns and wheels through them, leisurely and unrestrained.

West Lake lies west of Hangzhou, Zhejiang Province, and covers approximately 5.6 square kilometers. With its enchanting scenery and tranquil surroundings, it has been a celebrated destination since ancient times.

People say, “Above there is heaven; below there are Suzhou and Hangzhou.” Suzhou refers to the gardens of Suzhou, while Hangzhou refers to this very West Lake.

West Lake consists of an inner lake and an outer lake. Their waters are connected, but a long causeway, Su Causeway, separates them.

Although it is called a causeway, it is actually composed of six closely linked stone bridges, each with a different form. The outer lake is larger than the inner lake, and three sparkling pearls adorn its surface: Three Pools Mirroring the Moon, Lesser Yingzhou Island, and Mid-Lake Pavilion.

Three Pools Mirroring the Moon is considered the foremost of West Lake’s many sights, chiefly because of the three stone pagodas standing upon the water.

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The stone pagodas are more than two meters high, and each of their five sides contains a hole through which light can pass. On a bright moonlit night, one may witness the marvelous sight of “moonlight reflected in the pools, its image divided into three.”

On Mid-Lake Pavilion stands a stone tablet inscribed with the words “Insects Two.” It is said to have been written by the Qianlong Emperor. The inscription is believed to conceal the four words “boundless wind and moon,” expressing his feelings after touring West Lake by night.

Besides the three sights upon the lake, the shores are home to many other beautiful scenes, including Orioles Singing in the Willows, Watching Fish at Flower Harbor, Autumn Moon over the Calm Lake, and Lingering Snow on the Broken Bridge.

We got out of the car and crossed a sloping ridge. Through gaps among the treetops, we could faintly see the blue lake. The farther forward we walked, the broader the lake became, until at last nearly the whole expanse lay before our eyes.

High mountains surrounded the lake on every side, and mountain and water relied upon each other, creating a grand and majestic landscape. Rowboat after rowboat dotted the center of the lake like stars.

Suddenly, a band of water was thrown up from south to north across the lake. Looking carefully, we saw that it was a speedboat racing across the surface.

Flocks of birds cried out and wheeled through the sky above the lake from time to time, forming a magnificent, dynamic picture.

In midsummer, we often rowed a small boat far into the depths of the lake. The boat rocked upon the jade-green waves, producing a rhythmic slapping sound. Rings of ripples followed our progress, spreading outward in orderly succession.

At such moments, several of us would stand at the bow, taking in the lake’s graceful beauty. Clear water curved this way and that, enclosing clusters of green water plants.

Strands of water grass drifted with the waves like a fairy’s hair, stretching out and curling back, entwining themselves with the water and playing with the fish and shrimp.

In the distance, spots of pink and patches of green shade appeared, while waves of lotus fragrance rushed straight into our nostrils. We were irresistibly drawn to row faster, steering into the embrace of the lotus blossoms.

We moored the boat where the lotus leaves were thickest and the fragrance strongest, then lay separately at the bow and inside the cabin. The leaves were as large as umbrellas, hiding our bodies beneath their dense green shade.

Several vivid lotus flowers and tender young seedpods poked their heads out, as though teasing us. The pond was small, and the usually lively goldfish now remained quietly in place. Perhaps they had fallen asleep.

At the center of the pond stood a rockery of astonishing workmanship. Washed by moonlight, it became even more full of charm, like a scene from a painting.

The moon was reflected on the ink-green bottom of the pond. After being cleansed by the water, it appeared exceptionally clear and distant, like Mona Lisa’s fascinating eyes, drawing the heart into longing.

A breeze passed over the still pond, tracing a pale green mark across its surface. The water rippled faintly and kissed the rocks, producing a soft metallic tapping sound. In the tranquil night, the sound seemed especially light and leisurely.

Changdang Lake, a delicate younger sister to Taihu Lake, lies serenely upon the blessed land of Jintan.

When I first came to Changdang Lake, I felt an indistinct, indescribable affection for it.

In the distance, the sky was a deep blue, without a single stray cloud or flying bird, like an enormous blue veil lightly draped over the world.

Nearby, the water was a pale green, so innocent and lovely, so pure that not a trace of impurity could be seen within it.

Even the little fish that loved to frolic seemed unwilling to break the tranquil green. They had swum down to the lake bottom, leaving the surface like a flawless gem, or a pale green pasture in early spring.

I sat in a small boat and let it drift. Before I knew it, I found myself in the boundless center of the lake.

Only then did I realize how beautiful the world could be. Looking around, I saw not the slightest hint of any other color. Everywhere I looked, there was only this captivating green.

How could I describe this lovely green? Could the splendid words and graceful sentences in the Sea of Words Dictionary rival the green before my eyes?

Enraptured, I extended both hands, lifted a handful of pure green water, and gently raised it to my lips. It seemed more fragrant than a plum and sweeter than honey. Then I gathered another handful of that innocent green and held it against my breast. At once, an immense lightness filled my heart, and my spirit was renewed.

The water of Xuanwu Lake is so clear and radiant that it resembles a gigantic, brilliantly gleaming green jewel. A breeze brushes over the surface, raising layer upon layer of ripples. In the setting sun, the lake flashes like fish scales or shattered jade, filling the heart with ease and delight.

The small waves are like children chasing and playing with one another. Row after row, they rush toward the shore, then retreat with laughter.

The cycle repeats forever, yet never grows tiresome. Crystal droplets splash upon my hands, bringing a trace of coolness and lifting the spirit.

Standing on the shore, one can see straight to the bottom. Sometimes small fish and shrimp can be seen swimming to and fro, reminding us that life exists within the green water. They bring vitality to the lake and add an air of mystery.

At dawn, beneath the pale blue light of the sky, the reservoir is extraordinarily still. A thin mist floats upon the surface like a veil draped over a young girl.

The little islands upon the water seem to drift among the clouds. Seen from afar, the reservoir resembles a silver-gray ribbon winding into the distance.

A lake can be still, like a mirror, clearly reflecting the blue sky, white clouds, red flowers, and green trees. It can be lively, its layered waves rising with the wind, chasing and playing with the leaping sunlight and with my own heart. It can be soft, its countless ripples flowing in the breeze like a length of silk dancing in the wind. It can be hard, like a flawless emerald glittering with lovely radiance.

A still lake is lovely, but a lake in the rain is even more moving. Fine threads of spring rain drift down without pause, weaving and weaving until they have made a vast green brocade across the surface. Countless rings appear upon the brocade, like flowers embroidered by a beautiful girl.

The lake is most boisterous when thunderstorms arrive.

Listen! A streak of light cuts across the sky—that is the opening firework soaring upward.

Thunder explodes like a ceremonial cannon. The grand event is about to begin.

As soon as the heavy rain falls, the celebration starts. Do you see the rain flowers blooming one after another upon the lake? They are the jade blossoms worn in the hair of golden-fish maidens dancing gracefully. Do you wonder whether the performance is splendid?

The thunderous applause of the rain will tell you everything.

In the embrace of mountains more than two thousand meters above sea level, a lake of such deep green suddenly appears. It is truly astonishing. Seen close at hand, the water reflects the surrounding mountains and pine trees, with light and shade sharply defined. From afar, the distant peaks bear crowns of white snow that appear and vanish in the haze. The afterglow of sunset falls upon the clear, luminous surface.

Wherever the breeze passes, the water glitters like countless fish turning and leaping. Ancient spruce forests cover the slopes in luxuriant green. Little squirrels leap from branch to branch, occasionally peering down at us. Fallen leaves lie a foot deep in the woods and rustle softly beneath our feet.

Ah, the whole scene is a superb ink-wash painting.

Qinghai Lake was known in ancient times as West Lake. In the Tibetan language it is called Tso Ngonpo, meaning “the blue lake.” It is oval in shape, slightly longer from east to west, with a circumference of more than three hundred kilometers. It covers 4,583 square kilometers and lies at an elevation of 3,195 meters.

The scenery of Qinghai Lake changes with the seasons and the weather. In spring and summer, the mountains are green, the water beautiful, and birds sing everywhere. In the depths of winter, the land is covered in snow and the lake freezes over. On clear days, the blue sky is like a mirror and sky and water become one. On cloudy days, an immense sea of clouds stretches across the horizon, while waves strike the shore with sound.

Seen from afar, Qinghai Lake resembles an enormous sapphire radiating brilliant light. Seen up close, it is like an endless ocean.

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In the morning, Qinghai Lake is enveloped in white mist, merging with the sky until one can no longer distinguish heaven from water. At dusk, the glow of the clouds falls upon the lake, setting off layer upon layer of sparkling waves, like a painter unfurling before us a magnificent scroll of colored ink. At night, the moon scatters its pure light across the tranquil surface. The lake glitters, the stars of the entire sky are reflected in it, and it truly seems that the sky lies within the lake and the lake within the sky.

Bird Island, Haixi Mountain, Heart-of-the-Sea Mountain, Sand Island, and Solitary-Finger Mountain, also called Three Stones, are five little islands set in the lake like five brilliant pearls, adding color to Qinghai Lake.

The fish of Qinghai Lake are relatively limited in variety. The principal species is the naked carp, commonly known as the scaleless fish. Without scales, it has delicious flesh and rich nutritional value, and is famous far and wide.

A naked carp takes approximately eleven or twelve years to grow from a fingerling to a weight of one pound. This alone reveals how precious it is.

To make rational use of the naked carp resource, the government has adopted measures prohibiting indiscriminate fishing.

Heart-of-the-Sea Mountain covers nearly one thousand square meters. Legend says that it was famous throughout the world for producing celestial dragon colts, and so it is also called Dragon-Colt Island. Strange rocks rise everywhere upon the island, amid dense weeds.

In the height of summer, it is draped in red and green, filled with birdsong and floral fragrance. In the bitter winter, its ice-covered cliffs and rocks create an exceptionally beautiful scene.

Bird Island lies near the mouth of the Buha River in the western part of Qinghai Lake and covers only 0.4 square kilometers.

Because the island has clean air, abundant food, and a secluded environment, every year it attracts nearly one hundred thousand migratory birds of eleven species, including bar-headed geese, fish gulls, brown-headed gulls, ruddy shelducks, and swans. They come here to rest and raise their young, earning the island the name “the Kingdom of Birds.”

When you set foot in this kingdom, startled flocks rise into the air, their cries carrying for miles. At times, birds whose numbers have fallen dangerously low also fly here. The state has established a special institution on the island to oversee the breeding and study of birds.

Standing along the eastern shore of the lake, I gazed into the distance, yet could not see its farthest edge. A refreshing breeze, cool as mint, blew toward me, instantly clearing my mind and soothing my spirit.

I listened carefully to the delicate sound of the lake, like a musician plucking exquisite strings. It seemed I could see the water’s lively, leaping form, and my heart was filled with sudden joy.

Look at this jade-green water, full and luminous. Its green is neither wild nor murky, but delicate and warm. I could not help bending down to scoop up a handful. I imagined it would stain my hands green, but it was only clear and colorless, flowing between my fingers back into the lake with a crisp sound like ice striking a jade plate. Then it regained its former appearance—crystalline, gentle, and beautiful—as it murmured toward the distance.

North of the town, beyond the highway, stood majestic mountains. In one of their valleys lay the Tongshan Source Reservoir. Mountains encircled it on every side, their trees lush and thick, their branches heavy with fruit: crystal-clear grapes, golden oranges, and sweet red persimmons. Seen at a glance, the whole landscape resembled a gigantic jade plate.

Many kinds of boats moved across the surface: little wooden boats, motor-sailboats, steam launches, and more. The dam rose as high as a twenty-story building, like a colossal gate blocking the rushing water. At the foot of East Mountain beside the reservoir stood a hydroelectric power station, sending powerful currents every day to the factories and L14 Village.

The world-famous Five Great Pools resemble five twin lotus blossoms. Their surfaces reflect the azure sky, like five mirrors in which a fairy might make herself beautiful. They also resemble five crystal fire pearls set amid emerald plains and at the foot of densely green mountains.

Colored fishing sails drifted across the pools. Waves of clear wind carried the melodious songs of fishermen from the water, while oars cut through the blue mirror of the lake and raised alluring trails of light.

Suddenly, a gunshot rang out. The time had come to release the floodwater.

The great sluice gate began to rise slowly. At once, a clear, smooth stream gently poked its head out, bright and translucent like soft gauze, with the shy grace of a beautiful young woman.

The higher the gate rose, the greater the flow became. No longer as docile as before, the water began to grow furious. It thundered and roared, charging violently toward the first flood-control dam.

The dam tried to block its path, but the torrent leapt into the air and vaulted over it. The crest of the wave rose high like the triumphant smile of a victor.

White waves rolled forward with irresistible force. Some people compared them to a flock of sheep suddenly emerging from the grass. Others said they resembled white clouds rushing across the blue sky.

No—they were neither as feeble as sheep nor as insubstantial as clouds. They were like a soaring dragon leaping into a deep pool.

The countless spray blossoms it raised sent a mist more than three meters into the air. Beneath the sunlight, they resembled flying pearls and splashed jade, glowing in every color.

The torrent was filled with boundless strength. It displayed a magnificent spirit, sweeping aside the rubble, stones, mud, and polluted water that dared obstruct its advance.

After plunging over the dam, the torrent spread into a wider channel, yet it still maintained its forward-driving momentum. Floodwater churned within the embankment, while the mountain stream rushed through the gorge.

The force with which it poured for miles was breathtaking, stirring the heart and raising the spirit. Climbing onto the lake embankment, I saw water and sky merge into one, while the waves glittered in the light.

Through the clear water, I could see the lake-bottom grasses, dimly green like a carpet. The water chestnuts floating upon the surface and the graceful lotus leaves looked like flowers scattered across that green carpet.

Accompanied by the girls’ singing, a lotus-gathering boat emerged from among the tall reeds, cleaving the tranquil surface of the lake.

The fish leapt and darted energetically. I could not tell whether the sound of the little oars had startled them or whether the girls’ songs had drawn them near.

I sat down beside the railing and slipped my bare feet into the lake. The water, cool yet gentle, lapped at my toes. A feeling arose within me as though I had merged with nature itself. I felt that the water of Thousand-Island Lake was so full of affection, the wind so fresh, the sunlight so bright, and the trees so vividly green.

I truly wished to remain there forever, with the mountains for companions and the water for a kindred spirit, feasting each day upon the beauty of lake and mountain. That would be true freedom and leisure.

The sun sank toward the west. Its blood-red afterglow dyed half the sky crimson, while the lake flushed faintly, like the shy face of a young girl.

The surface of the lake, partially hidden beneath green trees, was clearly divided into blue and green. The blue brought the open sky to mind; the green called up memories of the grasslands.

The surroundings were astonishingly quiet. The green shifted from pale to deep and from deep to pale, while a veil of light-gray mist enfolded Thousand-Island Lake, making it profound and unfathomable. Yet the clear water remained so open and candid.

Here I saw the power of green. It was so majestic that before one had time to react, it surged into the eyes like water bursting through a breached embankment, compelling one to be moved and overwhelmed by its vitality and grandeur.

In Kazakh, Sailimu Lake is called Sailimukule, meaning “the Lake of Blessing.” It lies among the mountains where the Ili Kazakh Autonomous Prefecture meets the Bortala Mongolian Autonomous Prefecture. At an elevation of more than two thousand meters, it is one of China’s celebrated alpine lakes.

The lake covers 120 square kilometers, considerably larger than the city of Yining. Its deepest point is more than ninety meters below the surface, and even the lake bottom is marked by undulating mountains.

The lake water is clear, sweet, and pleasant to drink. Since it contains two parts per thousand of mineral salts, drinking a small amount can refresh the mind, ease internal heat, and aid digestion.

Did you know that Sailimu Lake is constantly changing? According to the research and investigations of the physicist and meteorologist Zhu Kezhen, seven hundred years ago the area around it was still a world of ice-covered peaks.

Today, however, beautiful Sailimu Lake is surrounded by grasslands stretching beyond the horizon. Yet judging from the rate at which the lake has grown over the past several years, perhaps seven hundred years from now this place will once again become a vast sea.

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