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The orchid who lost its roots Chen Zhi FanMr. Gu and family had invited me over for a flower viewing in a small university at the countryside of Philadelphia. We travelled about an hour by car before reaching the school. The school was as beautiful as a poem, a picture. There is the undulating mountains, the ancient shady trees, green vines that crawl the walls of the small buildings, and the green grass that covered the patches of slopes. Other than the songs of the birds, no other voice is present. It was like a dream, a very quiet dream. There were two patches of nurseries. One was Peonies and the other was Viburnums. There were also Cloves shining like starlight among the bushes. I guess these flowers all probably came from China.Due to these flowers, I naturally thought of the blossoming flowers in Beiping Park, which looked exactly like these flowers. However, I just couldnt seem to recall the emotions I once felt in my childhood. I dont know why but I felt these flowers were not meant to appear here. The background for these flowers should be Jin Yu Pavilion; should be the Garden of Harmonious Interest; should be the stone steps of the palace; or the fences of pavilions. Just because the background has changed, the colours of the flowers have also faded and the emotions of a person have also fallen. Tears, they were rolling down my face without me knowing the reason.I am already wandering the world outside when I was in my teenage years and tears have never fallen without me even noticing. I have seen things that are totally different from what was in my hometown, and I have also seen things that are exactly the same. Whether it is the same or not the same, I have never been reminded of my hometown by them. At the Weishui Coast are the waters that I have never seen before and I have only felt novelty but not unfamiliarity; Before arriving at Xianyang City, I have never seen it before, I only thought it was ancient but I did not felt any sorrow. I have picked up the fallen red maple leaves that were the same as the ones in the Fragrant Hills of my hometown; I have also been to the Imperial Ancestral Temple of the State of Shu and have seen the same ancient pines of my hometown; but I have

never thought about home because of them. Even though I was as poor as a beggar that time, I have always have tell myself not to be faced by hardships as a way of self-encouragement. I can make anywhere my home, I once proudly said.Yet, ever since I came to America, my emotions have all changed suddenly. During my dreams at night, it was always back home where my familys little hut collapsed in the heavy wind and rain, or my mothers hair, which is turning white strand by strand. Life during the daytime had me dislike looking at things different from my hometown, however I do not dare to look at things that are similar to my hometown. Only then do I realize, what I once said that I can make anywhere my home was because the silkworm has not yet leave that piece of mulberry leaf. Wait until I have stepped out of my country for a single step, and nowhere could I made my home anymore.There is a famous novel from America with a minor character portraying a Chinese man. This Chinese man was born in America, but even after he became an adult, he still plaits his long hair and refuse to communicate in English even though he could speak English very well. There was once he accidently spoke English fluently in front of others. The Americans then knew he was born in America. They asked him why did he wanted to pretend to be from China.He said: I have tried to speak English fluently with short hair and a suit once. However, I am still unable to mix well with you all, for you all look at me in a different way. I felt very miserableWe cannot stand the sight of the flowers that originated from China in America; when people migrate to America, we will also not be at ease. Only at this moment will one remember, the lusciousness of the earth and the breathtaking beauty of the flowers in their home land. I remembered when I was 8, I shouldered a small sickle and followed my uncle down to mow the golden wheat fields. Now, this colorful scene of my childhood had become immortal in my life memories.

During the nights of the summer that was as soothing as the cool waters, the stars seems brighter only when it is accompanied by the story of the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl; in the myriad of mountains, the scenery only looked poetic when there is the presence of bamboo fences and huts; When it is dawn, the fields would only look simple and lovely when there is the cow with its clumsy weight present.Not only do the mountains and rivers of my homeland have flowers and trees, they also have stories that could be sung and weep upon, and also poems that could be recited and praised upon. It was the clamour and laughter of the children and the silent desolated ancestral graves who had embellished it with beauty.There was an old saying: life is like duckweeds which floats on the water in random. The people from ancient times think so because they have never left their homeland before, so they would never have felt the bitterness of leaving you homeland, for duckweeds will still always be floating on water no matter how. In my opinion, life is like cotton wadding, withering and falling in the spring skies that is filled with colours of ten million purples and thousands of red.During the Soong dynasty, artist Si Xiao, drew an orchid with all its roots and leaves floating in the air. When others ask him why, he replied: When the land dies, where should the roots go? The land stands symbolically for a country. A man without a country, is like the grass without its roots, which cannot stand up to the torture of the rain and wind and will soon wither away.When I was in my teenage years, I am already homeless, yet I do not feel miserable. After more than a decade, when my homeland is gone, I however felt a deep sense of misery. Didnt people always say: Ones head can be severed, ones blood can be drained, but ones body cannot ever be humiliated? But I think it should be: Ones body can be humiliated, ones family can be broken, but the country cannot ever die.Philadelphia, 15.05.1955This article is translated from the extract of Biographical of the Journey in America Translated by Carmen Pang