When my eyes opened again, the blazing red sun was already high in the sky. I lifted my drowsy body and looked out the window, stretching my arms lazily. Another beautiful morning had come! A pity, though — I had risen too late to hear the chorus of insects and birds.
By the time I stepped outside, everyone was already busy. The men were plowing the fields, the women weaving cloth, and the children playing joyfully along the muddy paths. I couldn't remain idle, so I picked up a hoe and joined the men in tilling the earth. Together, we sang cheerful tunes as we worked — voices blending with laughter, hearts lightened by labor.
Before I knew it, the afternoon sun hung low. During our rest, I stood up suddenly and began to run toward the bamboo grove.
"Hey! If you hear strange sounds in the grove, come back quickly!" someone called out.
"I know!" I replied.
They were always so naggingly concerned — but perhaps it was this very warmth that kept our bonds alive. My footsteps grew faster, pounding against the earth. Soon I reached that familiar little pond, but I had no heart to linger. I ran past it, through the thickets and trees, until at last the land opened again — the same field of blooming flowers, radiant as ever. The narrow path was still there, winding up the mound. Yet something had changed — upon the hill now stood a willow tree, and beside it, the girl.
She seemed to notice me at once and turned, waving her hand in greeting.
I walked toward her, noticing that steps had been built into the slope — a small ladder, piece by piece. I climbed them carefully, and when I reached the top, she gestured toward the willow. Its branches were swaying in the wind, humming softly to themselves — so tender, so graceful that I couldn't help but be entranced. She patted my shoulder, then took my hand and led me toward the back of the house.
"What's back there?" I wondered aloud.
"This is... a paradise, isn't it?" I said, astonished.
"Isn't it beautiful?" she replied with a smile.
Beyond the mound stretched a vast expanse of farmland, where green rice shoots swayed in rhythm with the gentle breeze. I turned toward her — she stood with her eyes closed, arms slowly outstretched, as if savoring the caress of the wind upon her face.
From my pocket, I took out Monica and began to play softly, offering a melody to this hidden paradise — as though waking the slumbering earth and inviting it to lift its head once more.
While I played, I occasionally glanced her way. Once, I caught a faint smile on her lips — but when I turned fully toward her, she hastily looked away, saying nothing, silent and still. Then suddenly, she turned and walked back into the house, leaving me outside, puzzled but unwilling to intrude. Perhaps this quiet solitude was the best way to savor such beauty.
I gazed at the fields below, where the waters of the river glimmered as they flowed gently by. Perhaps they wished to carry away my worries — or perhaps they were greeting me, the stranger from the bamboo grove.
Then came the creak of a door opening. I turned to look — and there she was, dressed in a grand outfit, a traditional Scottish attire, with a small cap perched on her head — a Highland bonnet. Against her Western-featured face, she looked nothing short of divine. Resting upon her shoulder was once again the Scottish bagpipe, completing an image so ethereal that I could almost believe I stood among the clouds beside a celestial maiden.
"Do I... look beautiful like this?" she asked softly, her head slightly bowed.
"You look like a goddess," I replied, my voice trembling.
I could no longer contain myself — utterly lost in her beauty. Then, with cheeks tinted like cherries, she raised her head and began to play her bagpipe. For an instant, it felt as though I had been transported to a boundless steppe — cool and tranquil, with rivers winding through the plains and antelopes calling in the distance.
So this is the sound of the grasslands, I thought.
I wanted to linger in that dreamlike music forever, but I knew I must not lose myself completely. I tilted my head upward and looked at the sky — the light was dimming. Heavy clouds had already begun to blanket the heavens.