"Don't ask where I'm going; I am your green leaf, my roots are in your soil—this is the leaf's sentiment to the root." In the morning breeze, the leaf repeatedly sings this heartfelt song. It is her confession to Mother Root.
When the spring wind first brushes the earth, spring rain falls gently. Mother Root, who has been asleep through the winter, awakens. She quickly absorbs the golden, precious spring water, blends in various nutrients, and sends the nourishment continuously up every branch. Buds burst rapidly along the branches, slowly unfolding into tender yellow-green leaves. Thousands of trees, all covered in fresh green, paint a captivating picture of spring.
Camera flashes flicker constantly as tourists eagerly take photos amidst the new greenery.
People love the green leaves and praise them. The leaves not only decorate people's living spaces, but also produce oxygen and purify the environment. People sincerely thank the leaves and sing their praises.
At this moment, the leaf once again rustles softly, singing that song, expressing her heartfelt gratitude to Mother Root.
Long ago, Mother Root plunged without hesitation into the dark, lightless soil, working silently and diligently, nurturing generation after generation of leaf children. For decades, she has done so without complaint or regret. While people admire and praise the green leaves, Mother Root is trampled underfoot. Yet she bears no grudge—she has always felt immense pride in her excellent leaf children!
The autumn wind blows cold and biting. The leaf shivers, catching a chill; her voice grows hoarse. Yet still she sings that deep, emotional song, remembering Mother Root's nurturing love.
In late autumn, the soil dries and nearly cracks. Mother Root can no longer provide her children with sufficient water and nutrients as she once did. She feels deep remorse and guilt, yet is powerless to help.
Learning of Mother Root's heavy heart and difficult plight, the leaf decisively cuts off the transport channels from the root. The leaf grows pale and thin, losing her former vitality. Mother Root is heartbroken, but unable to reopen the channels. She can only watch helplessly as her beloved leaf children turn into withered yellow leaves, her sorrow piercing her like ten thousand arrows.
A gust of autumn wind lifts countless yellow leaves, swirling and dancing in the sky.
"Look! A flock of yellow butterflies, dancing gracefully—where are they flying to?" children cry out in delight.
"Don't ask where I'm going!" the yellow leaf replies. "Though a tree may grow a thousand feet tall, its leaves will fall back to the roots. This is the rule passed down from our ancestors!"
The yellow leaves drift down one by one, wrapping Mother Root tightly all around. She feels a warm comfort and slowly falls asleep. She dreams a sweet dream of spring.