Second High's multimedia classroom.
The multimedia classroom at Second High was usually used for music lessons and other multimedia courses. However, such classes were relatively few. Most of the time, the room remained empty. Because it was spacious, many school activities and rehearsals were often held there.
This time, for the county-wide high school recitation competition, Second High took it very seriously and even arranged special teacher guidance. At the moment, Su Jingru had brought more than twenty participating students into the multimedia classroom.
"Alright, everyone. I believe you've all prepared well these past few days. Today, treat this as the real competition. I'll give each of you feedback after your recitation. Then you can go back, reflect, and practice more. The official competition is in a few days. Okay, first up, Guo Yueying."
"Hello teachers, today I'll be reciting a poem about our great motherland."
A girl named Guo Yueying stepped forward from the front row, bowed politely, and began her recitation.
"Whenever I approach the late hours of the night, gazing toward the far side of the sea, I always think of your name…"
A few minutes later, she finished.
Su Jingru, one of the instructors, gave her evaluation. "Guo Yueying, your performance today was good, much improved from before. However, your emotions still aren't fully released. You haven't truly immersed yourself in the poet's feelings. I suggest you read more about the poet's background and the social context in which this poem was written."
"Thank you, Teacher Su."
"Alright, next, Wang Yingying."
After more than an hour, Su Jingru finally called Zhang Huiping's name.
"Zhang Huiping, it's your turn."
"Yes, Teacher Su."
Hearing her name, Zhang Huiping felt a bit nervous, her face slightly flushed. Noticing this, Su Jingru smiled gently at her. "It's okay, just treat it like your usual morning reading."
"Mm."
Nodding softly, Zhang Huiping walked to the front. After taking three deep breaths, she began.
"Hello teachers, today I will be presenting a prose piece titled 'Ode to the White Poplar.'"
"A car races across the boundless plateau. What comes into your view is a vast carpet interwoven with yellow and green. The yellow is the earth, uncultivated virgin soil, the outer layer of the Loess Plateau, formed by the great forces of nature over hundreds of thousands of years…"
This prose was, of course, written by Huang Yifan for Zhang Huiping.
The moment she began, the piece revealed its extraordinary quality.
Whether it was the choice of words or the rhythm created between them, it carried a deeply graceful and melodious beauty. More importantly, with just a single sentence, the vast landscape of the Loess Plateau unfolded vividly before the listener's eyes. Standing below the stage, Su Jingru was already captivated by this poetic prose. Closing her eyes slightly, she followed Zhang Huiping's voice as vivid scenes formed in her mind.
"And the green is the result of human labor conquering nature in the wheat fields. With the gentle wind blowing, waves of green roll one after another at this moment; you will truly admire the phrase 'waves of wheat.' If not a stroke of genius, then it must be the refined essence of language…"
At the mention of "waves of wheat," Su Jingru could almost see the rolling green waves in her mind, more beautiful than anything captured on television.
But at this moment, she suddenly let out a soft "hmm?"
Opening her eyes, she looked at Zhang Huiping on stage, her expression filled with astonishment.
She had never read this prose before.
As a graduate of a Chinese literature program, how could she not have read any well-known work?
And yet, this piece, judging from its quality, surpassed most prose she had ever encountered.
Still, she didn't interrupt.
The essay was too brilliant. Even with countless questions in her mind, she couldn't bear to disrupt the moment.
Zhang Huiping continued reading.
"Yellow and green dominate endlessly, vast and level as a whetstone. If not for the distant mountains standing side by side to remind you, you might forget that the car is traveling across a plateau. At this moment, you might feel 'majestic,' perhaps 'grand,' or other such words. Yet at the same time, your eyes may grow weary, closing themselves to this 'majesty' and 'grandeur,' while another feeling quietly grows within you, 'monotony.' Isn't it so? A bit monotonous, perhaps?"
Hearing this, Su Jingru frowned slightly.
Strange.
Just moments ago, the prose had painted a magnificent picture of the Loess Plateau. Why suddenly disrupt it?
Monotony?
Was it really?
Even those who had never been there would have been captivated by the imagery. Yet now, the narrative shifted, claiming that despite its grandeur, it inevitably felt monotonous.
What kind of writing technique was this?
Su Jingru felt a hint of regret. Such a stunning opening, yet seemingly undermined by these lines.
No wonder she had never read this piece before.
Perhaps this was where it lost its charm.
However, she could never have expected what came next.
After this shift, the author delivered an even more striking turn.
"Yet in an instant, if you suddenly look up and see ahead far in the distance a row, no, perhaps just three or five, or even a single tree, standing proudly like a sentinel, what would happen to your drowsy mood? At that moment, I cried out in surprise.
That is the white poplar, a most common tree of the northwest, yet truly no ordinary tree."
At this point, the recitation grew more impassioned.
Carried by the voice, Su Jingru suddenly saw a tree in her mind.
Though it had been described as ordinary, even plain, the words "standing proudly" and "like a sentinel" transformed it into something upright and imposing.
Such a tree… perhaps not ordinary at all.
And just then
The voice rang out powerfully:
"It is a tree that strives upward. A straight trunk, straight branches. Its trunk is usually several meters tall, as if artificially shaped within that height, not a single side branch… Though pressed by the wind and snow of the north, it remains stubbornly upright. Even if no thicker than a bowl, it strives upward, growing tall ten feet, twenty feet towering into the sky, unyielding, resisting the northwest wind. This is the white poplar, a most common tree of the northwest, yet by no means an ordinary tree!"
At that moment, it was as if a weight lifted from Su Jingru's heart.
This prose was not flawed at all; it was a masterpiece.
The two deliberate shifts in tone only served to highlight the extraordinary nature of the white poplar.
Brilliant.
Truly brilliant.
This essay was masterfully written.
Involuntarily, Su Jingru recalled the recent literary debate about "loose form, united spirit," and that moving essay 'Back View.' Wasn't this piece also a fine example of that principle? Though perhaps not reaching the same height as 'Back View,' it still achieved an exceptionally high level.
But then
Who had written such a masterpiece?
And how had it come to be recited by Zhang Huiping?
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Glossary:
'Ode to the White Poplar' "白杨礼赞" is a well-known modern Chinese prose essay written by the renowned author Mao Dun in 1941. It is regarded as a classic of modern Chinese literature and is widely included in educational curricula. The essay centers on the white poplar tree, which thrives in the harsh environments of northern China, using it as a symbol of resilience, integrity, and quiet strength. Through vivid imagery and a carefully structured progression, the work elevates an ordinary tree into a powerful metaphor for steadfast character and perseverance. It is often praised as a representative example of the prose style "loose in form, united in spirit," combining natural description with deeper symbolic meaning.
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