I just finished watching the movie Kora (Zhuanshan), and I was deeply moved. I felt that if I didn’t write something, I would be doing a disservice to this film.
This story begins with the elective courses I chose last semester. My general elective was Database, and my physical education class was Tai Chi. Near the end of the term, when it was time to choose electives again, I wanted something more relaxed and pleasant. Initially, I considered Calligraphy, but then I saw "Cycling and Outdoor Travel." I felt a spark of interest, and when I saw the instructor, it turned out to be our Tai Chi teacher. Having spent a semester in his Tai Chi class, I was familiar with him and found him very easy to get along with, so I decided to take the course.
Last Tuesday was the first session of this class. The teacher’s lecture was brilliant. In fact, there are only two courses where I can stay fully focused throughout the entire lecture: this elective and Marxism-Leninism (Strange, isn’t it? But it’s true; the Marxism-Leninism teacher is incredibly engaging, and I hardly ever lose focus). Kora was a movie recommended by our elective teacher, adapted from the novel of the same name. The general plot follows a young man from Taiwan who embarks on a solo cycling journey from Lijiang to Lhasa. The film depicts the rugged terrain of his journey and the local customs along the way, leaving a profound impression.
To be honest, I have traveled out of the province several times—once to Ningxia and four times to Beijing—but these were all for "official business," so I haven’t really gone on a proper trip for leisure. My first real journey, in a sense, was after the college entrance examination last year, when I cycled around my hometown with a few friends. That was when we truly experienced the joy of traveling together and the freedom of exploration! Of course, compared to the cycling journey in the film, it is hardly worth mentioning.
There is one scene in the movie that particularly moved me. On the fifth day, just as they entered Tibet, they stayed overnight with a local family. The protagonist became very close to the family’s child. The next morning, when it was time to move on, the child refused to go to school, clinging to the protagonist’s bicycle and refusing to let go, regardless of how his mother tried to pull him away. With a heart full of reluctance, the protagonist said, "I’ll walk him to school." So, the child went with him, and along the way, they were joined by a group of other pure and simple children. When they reached the school gate, the child asked sadly, "Brother, when will you come back?" At that moment, the protagonist shed tears, and I shed tears too. Perhaps from our perspective, the protagonist should have said heroically, "I will definitely come back," but he didn’t. Because at that time, facing so many unknowns, the only thing one can do is remain silent. Fate brought us together, and perhaps fate will allow us to meet again.
When facing death and the unknown, how should we choose? The protagonist in the film faces these questions as well. When a companion on the road suddenly meets with an accident and is left half-dead, should one continue the journey? The film provides the answer.
At the same time, I was thinking about something else: those pure and simple children. They don’t use mobile phones or computers, they don’t know the Lagrange Mean Value Theorem, and they haven’t studied Relativity or Quantum Mechanics. They carry bright smiles and go to school innocently. Their lives might be hard or full of various pressures, yet they are still very happy. What an enviable scene—a place without worries, where one only needs to smile and engage in simple conversation. I suddenly want to ask: what is the meaning of our lives in this world? Children in remote areas can still live happily and create their own worlds, so what is the significance of our lifelong exhaustion? I can only say that there are still many places in this world we have never been to, and many things we have never experienced.
There is a saying that one should do two things in university: have a passionate love affair and take a trip on a whim. What a bold statement! I don’t know if I will be able to achieve either during my time at university. However, I still look forward to the day when I will embark on an unforgettable journey hand-in-hand with the person I love. My "you," can you feel it?
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