The story is rooted in a true story. In the hometown of writer Wu Zhouxing， there is a rural primary school. Most of the students are left-behind children， and a music teacher tells them to come together to form a children’s choir. Unexpectedly， they won the first prize of the Provincial Choir Competition for three consecutive years， and in 2017， they also won the championship of the youth group of the 14th China Choral Festival.

Wu Zhouxing

Wu Zhouxing is a writer of young children’s literature and a member of the Chinese Writers Association. His works have won awards such as the China Outstanding Publication Award， the Jiuge Modern Children’s Literature Award.

Jiyang’s silence relates to his family.

Jiyang’s father is lame and runs a roadside bicycle repair stall. Jiyang’s mother is mentally unstable. Village folks say Jiyang once had a sister who died of illness at a very young age， and since then， his mother’s mental state has fluctuated. Fearing she might wander off， the family locked her in the house， but after she destroyed everything breakable inside， they had no choice but to lock her in the sheep pen. Several sheep are kept in the sheep pen. Oddly， Jiyang’s mother calmed down once she was in the sheep pen. Jiyang was born in the sheep pen， prompting his grandmother to name him Jiyang.

Jiyang’s life is so bleak that there seems to be no light in it， nor his heart. Jiyang is excessively quiet and reluctant to attract much attention to himself. At school， he rarely speaks to his classmates and always keeps his mouth tightly shut. His mouth is like it is locked with a rusty lock. Few people have ever heard Jiyang speak; most have even forgotten he can.

When not at school， Jiyang spends time in the sheep pen with his mother. The sheep pen is always kept clean because Jiyang fears the sheep dung might bother his mother， prompting him to clean it several times a day. It is only when he is in the sheep pen with his mother that Jiyang opens up to her to speak and sing songs he learned at school. His mother enjoys hearing Jiyang sing; his singing always makes her smile. Seeing his mother smile， Jiyang feels she is getting better， and life seems a bit more hopeful.

Teacher Xiaoyu discovered Jiyang’s singing talent by chance.

After school each day， Teacher Xiaoyu likes to stroll through the market， picking up groceries. She prefers quiet paths， often taking a detour through a back alley or walking along the riverbank to the market.

On this day， Teacher Xiaoyu was walking along the riverbank to the market. In early summer， the riverbank reeds formed a dense green wall. Despite the thick reeds， one could hear frogs， birds， and a drizzle-like chorus of cicadas nearby.

While admiring the riverside scenery， Teacher Xiaoyu pondered what to cook for dinner.

The breeze across the river brought various scents: the smell of the river， the marsh， and the fresh scent of reeds.

Among the sounds of frogs and cicadas over the lively river， a boy’s clear， youthful voice emerged like a bright crescent moon， adding a pure note to the noisy atmosphere. This voice captivated Teacher Xiaoyu， who unconsciously stopped walking， neither daring nor willing to interrupt it. She stood by the river and listened to the entire song. After the voice faded， Teacher Xiaoyu lingered， hoping to hear more of this touching voice. Soon， as she hoped， the singing resumed:

I know the stars at midnight sing，

On nights of homesickness， they echo my tune.

I know the afternoon breeze sings，

With childhood’s cicada sounds， always in tune with the breeze.

Scattered along the riverside were a few homes. One of these homes had a backyard encircled by densely planted hibiscus trees， forming a natural hedge. The pale pink hibiscus flowers， like tiny trumpets， silently accompanied the boy’s voice. Following the sound， Teacher Xiaoyu approached the hedge; through the hibiscus branches， she saw a boy sitting on a pile of hay， lost in his singing. His audience consisted of a woman sitting next to him and a few goats nearby. The woman held a hibiscus flower， smiling broadly at the boy， a trickle of saliva running from the corner of her mouth. As he sang， the boy reached out to wipe the saliva from her mouth.

The rustling of Teacher Xiaoyu touching the hibiscus startled the goat audience， who became restless. Only then did the singing boy notice someone had arrived， and the song abruptly stopped.

“Jiyang!” Teacher Xiaoyu exclaimed in surprise.

Although Teacher Xiaoyu had heard about Jiyang， seeing him and his mother in the sheep pen was still a profound shock.

Jiyang recognized Teacher Xiaoyu: “Teacher Xiaoyu!”

Jiyang took his mother’s hand and came out.

“Teacher Xiaoyu， what brings you here?” Jiyang felt uneasy and shy seeing his teacher before him. He always remembered this music teacher who had gently led him to the piano with tenderness and warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Jiyang， were you just singing? It sounded wonderful.”

Blushing at Teacher Xiaoyu’s praise， Jiyang replied， “I was singing for my mother. She enjoys it.”

Jiyang’s mother stared at Teacher Xiaoyu and suddenly offered a hibiscus flower， poking it toward her.

Embarrassed， Jiyang said， “Teacher Xiaoyu， please don’t mind， my mother … she’s ill.”

“I think your mother wanted to give me a gift.” Teacher Xiaoyu solemnly took the flower and examined it.

“The hibiscus flower is beautiful! Thank you， Jiyang’s mother!”

Jiyang’s mother clapped her hands， laughing.

“Jiyang， may I come in to visit? This hibiscus tree hedge is really beautiful.”

Jiyang nodded eagerly. Besides his family， no one else had ever entered.

Teacher Xiaoyu walked into the sheep pen. As she visited the sheep pen， Teacher Xiaoyu kept holding the hibiscus flower. Only upon entering did she notice the dense patch of impatiens under the hibiscus tree. The impatiens were blooming in various colors， pink， white， deep red， and light purple， like an evening sky had settled in the sheep pen.

“Jiyang， this yard is so beautiful. Who thought of this?”

“Teacher Xiaoyu， it was my idea. My mother spends her days in the sheep pen， and I wanted to cheer her up， so I planted the hibiscus and impatiens. Seeing the flowers bloom makes her happy.”

“Jiyang， I don’t see this as a sheep pen. You’ve created a beautiful garden for your mother.”

“A garden.”

“Jiyang， you are truly a thoughtful and skilled child.”

“Teacher Xiaoyu， you’re the first guest to come here. My mother would be so happy to know you’re my teacher.”

“Jiyang， I love this garden. If I come to visit often will that be fine with you?” Teacher Xiaoyu asked earnestly.

Jiyang nodded vigorously， his eyes moistening as he saw Teacher Xiaoyu still cherishing the hibiscus flower.

“Jiyang， is this the teacher you talked about?” Grandmother seemed even happier than Jiyang upon recognizing Teacher Xiaoyu. She took out a small bowl， offering Teacher Xiaoyu some magnolia jelly: “Jiyang mentioned a new teacher who’s been very kind to him， teaching him piano.”

Teacher Xiaoyu looked at Jiyang fondly， touched that her simple piano lesson had left such a lasting impression.

Hearing his grandmother mention him， Jiyang shyly went to help her.

Curious， Teacher Xiaoyu followed to watch.

Grandmother carried a small wooden barrel covered with a white cloth， lifting the cloth to reveal a small barrel of gelatinous liquid， clear as ice. Grandmother scooped several spoonfuls into the bowl Jiyang was holding.

“Grandmother， how is the magnolia jelly made?” Teacher Xiaoyu asked curiously.

“It’s simple，” Grandmother explained. “You cut open the magnolia fruit， scoop out the seeds， dry them， tie them tightly in a cloth bag， rub them in water to release the pectin， and let it set overnight.”

“You must use female fruit，” Jiyang whispered.

“Do fruits also have genders?”

Jiyang hummed in affirmation.

Jiyang’s grandmother then poured two plastic bottles into the bowl， their caps punctured to create a makeshift showerhead， adding some clear liquid.

“What’s this?”

“It’s sugar water and mint water.” Grandmother said with a smile， stirring a few times with the spoon. “There， it’s ready to eat.”

A bowl of light chrysanthemum-yellow magnolia jelly was prepared， and Grandmother had Jiyang hand it to Teacher Xiaoyu. Teacher Xiaoyu didn’t hesitate， taking the small bowl and tasting it. The magnolia jelly instantly refreshed her palate with its plant-like fragrance， causing her to exclaim， “The magnolia jelly is so refreshing! Jiyang， it tastes as crisp and refreshing as your voice.”

Jiyang smiled shyly.

After finishing the magnolia jelly， Teacher Xiaoyu had an idea: “Jiyang， hobby classes are starting soon. Which do you want to join?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” Jiyang said bashfully， “I’m not good at studying. I haven’t decided whether to join the math Olympiad or the writing class.”

Teacher Xiaoyu shared her thoughts: “Jiyang， your voice is beautiful. Come join the choir.”

Jiyang seemed startled. He had been looking down， but upon hearing her， he raised his head， his face flushed， shaking his head repeatedly: “Teacher， I can’t.”

“I heard you just now， Jiyang; your singing moved me; you are very talented.”

Grandmother， not quite understanding， asked Jiyang， “Jiyang， what did the teacher ask you to do?”

Teacher Xiaoyu explained again: “Grandmother， Jiyang sings wonderfully. I want him to sing.”

This time， Grandmother understood and blushed with excitement: “Oh， yes， then go!”

Yet， Jiyang still shook his head vigorously: “Grandmother， I won’t go.”

“You go. Listen to the teacher.” After much discussion， Jiyang still wouldn’t agree. Grandmother， appearing upset， pushed Jiyang’s hand into Teacher Xiaoyu’s: “Teacher， you say our Jiyang sings well; you don’t know how happy I am. No teacher has ever praised him like this.”

Teacher Xiaoyu felt the small hand trembling.

“Jiyang， do you want to join the choir?”

“Teacher Xiaoyu， I don’t sing well. I sing for my mother and the goats， and no one laughs at me.”

“Jiyang， you know， the first time I taught your music class， I saw you sitting alone in the corner， but I could feel you wanted to touch the piano. You were just afraid， right? I’ve heard you sing; I know you have a great musical talent. My instinct tells me you love to sing. You do. I hope you can be brave. For your mother， you need to sing out bravely.”

Jiyang lowered his head.

“Jiyang， do you not want to sing， or are you afraid to sing?”

Jiyang remained silent.

“Jiyang， I’m asking you one question: do you like to sing? If you don’t， I will never force you.”

Finally， Jiyang lifted his head， surprising Teacher Xiaoyu with eyes full of tears. The tears streamed down his face like two clear brooks. He had been crying all along; he just didn’t want Teacher Xiaoyu to see， so he hadn’t lifted his head.

“Jiyang.” Teacher Xiaoyu was lost for words.

Jiyang looked at Teacher Xiaoyu， who was still holding his hand， just as she had when leading him to the piano. He wiped his tears， suddenly feeling a courage he had never felt before. He nodded， his voice soft yet firm: “I like it.”

Hearing these words， Teacher Xiaoyu smiled: “Jiyang， you must come to the choir. I’ll wait for you.”