Thousands of mountains are always pits

In order to get the chance to dance with the girl, the student needs a red rose.

So the Nightingale pressed her breast against the thorn while the moon was hanging in the sky.She sang songs all night, the sun rose layer by layer at dawn, and the petals bloomed layer by layer.

At the moment when the flower heart was also dyed ruby, Nightingale remembered the last song she sang to the oak tree.

"Sing me one last song," she said softly, "I'll feel lonely when you're gone."

Nightingale sang her expectations for the students:

you want to be a real lover

Because although philosophy is very clever

But love is smarter than her

despite the great power

But love is greater than her

"The flames of love's wings are red, thy body is as red as fire; thy lips are sweet as honey; thy breath is sweet as frankincense." The oak praised her in her song, "you are the true lover. "

"But the student likes that girl." Nightingale patted the branches of the oak tree with her brown wings, and said lightly, "And I am willing to sacrifice everything for love."

"What you love is pure love itself." The oak tree swayed its branches, "You don't love students."

Nightingale continued to sing: "What does it matter? True and pure love can give everything for a love like fire."

She spoke, and sang happily again.

The nightingale sings of the love that sprouts in the heart of all things, of the love that is consummated by death, of the love that is immortal in the grave.

Her singing died away, and the oak shook off its leaves as she lay dead in the long grass.

Just as the leaves were about to bury the red rose, the oak tree stopped moving.

"True and pure love can give everything for a fiery love." Oak muttered to himself.

Her voice disappeared in the rustling wind: "You are my real lover."

Oak could only look at the red rose lying in the grass quietly, and stayed with her all morning.

At noon, the students opened the windows and were ecstatic.

She took the red rose and chased the girl she loved, but the girl was worried that it would not match her clothes, so she still rejected the student.

The student angrily threw the rose into the street, the rose fell into the gutter, and a carriage ran over it.

"How stupid love is!" said the student as they walked. "It proves nothing, but it always tells people things that cannot happen, and makes people believe things that are not true."

She took two steps forward angrily, and for some reason suddenly remembered the nightingale that often appeared on the windowsill before.

The student suddenly felt that he didn't hear the nightingale's cry this morning.

She stopped and turned back to pick up the rose.

The student gently wiped off the dust and sewage on the rose petals, and his tone eased: "But anyway, nature and beauty are real and infallible."

The student took the red rose back and buried it beside the oak tree in front of the windowsill.

Then she went back to her room, took out her big, dusty book, and began to read.

In the second year, the withered red rose unexpectedly produced a new bud.

"Hello, oak tree." The newborn rose had a singing voice as clear as a nightingale.

The branches of the oak tree swayed and rattled.

"Why do you cry when you see me?" The nightingale who turned into a branch whispered in her ear, "During the year when I can't speak, I miss you very much, Sister Oak."

"Me too." Oak replied.

"Don't you regret it?" asked the Oak Tree. "Your love has triumphed neither over power nor philosophy."

Nightingale took out a small branch and replied loudly: "But it has overcome cruelty, and it has also defeated death."

The oak tree choked against the sun, and tenderly held the rose roots in its hands.

When the students came out, she watered the roses and oaks, and put the book of philosophy gently by the roots.

"I'm going to the seminary. A beautiful teacher invited me to be her teaching assistant." The student gently stroked the thorns of the rose with a gentle expression, "I'm leaving here tomorrow."

"I don't know why, but that nightingale hasn't come here to sing for a year."

She said: "But every time I see you, I think of her."

"Goodbye, Rose."

"Goodbye, Oak."

"Goodbye, Nightingale."

The student stood up, turned and left.

Not long after, the bud produced a fiery red flower.

Like the purest ruby ​​of time, it also wraps a gentle heart.

The roots of the rose and the oak were entwined under the earth, and nothing could separate them.