Once upon a time, in a remote village, there lived two friends, Jack and Tom. They were inseparable, sharing every joy and sorrow, and always ready to start up new adventures together.

One day, they heard stories of a hidden treasure buried deep in the forbidden forest. Motivated, they decided to start up a search to find the treasure and make their fortune. Equipped with only a map, a compass, and their courage, Jack and Tom entered into the dense and dangerous forest. The trees towered overhead, blocking out the sun, and the undergrowth was thick and messy. They had to crawl and climb their way through, facing all sorts of barriers and creatures.

As they dug deeper into the forest, they encountered a fierce wolf that bared its teeth at them. They managed to escape by climbing a tall tree, but not before the wolf had torn their bag-pack to pieces, leaving them with only the essentials.

Determined and fearless, they pushed their way onward, following the clues on the map. They crossed swamps (湿地) and scaled cliffs, despite hunger and thirst. Their feet were bleeding and their clothes torn, but their spirits were high and their determination unshakable.

Finally, after days of hardship and danger, they hit on a clearing in the forest. In the center stood an ancient stone altar (祭坛), and beside it, a chest (箱子) that glowed with a mysterious light. They knew they had found the treasure.

But as they approached the chest, they heard a deep sound from the earth beneath their feet.

Finally, the two friends realized that the true treasure of their journey was not the gold and jewels.

I heard the door open and knew it wouldn’t be long before my husband Paul would come through the door. I feared his arrival. Don’t get me wrong —I love him dearly, but recently he had started to ask too many questions. He was really getting on my nerves.

“Hi baby, I’m home,” came his voice. “Where are you?”

“In here,” I replied. I was lying on our bed watching the five o’clock news in my pajamas（睡衣）.

“You’re still in your pajamas, again? You would feel better if you got dressed.”

“Why? I’m not going any place,” I replied testily. He just sighed and started changing his clothes.

We weren’t fighting but we weren’t exactly getting along famously either. My early retirement had come unexpectedly and although it was due to health issues, they weren’t severe enough to “allow” me stay in pajamas all day.

Everyone kept telling me it took time to adjust, that I would be very busy if I gave myself a chance. I didn’t want to be just busy; I wanted a purpose. Meanwhile, as I searched for meaning in my life again, my husband stepped in and suggested we get a dog.

The next Wednesday morning he said, “Hey, get dressed. Today we’re going to the dog-shelter.” “Oh, no…I can’t.”

“Why not? You going, somewhere?” he asked.

“Well, um; I’m not ready for that commitment,” I replied.

“Sallie, we’re getting a dog, not adopting a baby!”

We went to the shelter and returned with a Beagle-Doxie mix. I named her Mollie, spelled with an “ie” just like my name.

I bounded out of bed the next morning, eager to take care of Mollie. I was greeted by doggie kisses and unconditional love. Mollie didn’t care that I didn’t have a career or that I have health issues. She just needed me. I fed her, bathed her, and started our daily routine of walks. Mollie and I were two needy souls who had found each other.

A funny thing happened: my energy returned.

One recent winter evening, Mollie and I took our usual walk.

Melody of Self-Discovery

Sitting at the grand piano, Sarah was picturing her first piano performance in her mind, only to find herself lost in thought. The annoying doubt again crept into her mind. She just couldn’t shake the feeling of uncertainty that lingered within her. What had driven her to take up piano lessons in the first place? Was it simply a short-lived urge, or had she harbored a deeper passion for music all along?

As her fingers idly traced the keys, Sarah reflected on her journey thus far. She remembered the excitement she felt when she first sat down at the piano, the thrill of producing her first few notes. But as the weeks passed and the lessons grew more challenging, doubts began to seep into her mind like cracks in a dam.

“Sarah, do you have a clear goal in mind?” Mrs. Thompson’s words echoed in her memory. The gentle encouragement from her piano teacher only served to deepen Sarah’s sense of unease. Did she genuinely love playing the piano? What was she playing for? And most importantly, did she truly have what it took to succeed in the world of music?

During her practice, Sarah found herself wrestling with these questions, her fingers pausing and hesitating over the keys as her mind wandered. She couldn’t help but compare herself to her classmates, who seemed to effortlessly master each new piece while she struggled to keep up.

The weight of self-doubt grew heavier with each passing day, weakening her passion for music altogether. But a midst the darkness, a flicker (隐约) of hope remained. Deep down, Sarah knew that her love for the piano burned bright, even if it was dimmed by clouds of uncertainty.

As Sarah sat at the piano, the answer to Mrs. Thompson’s question slowly became clear to her. With each practiced note, each perfected passage, she realized that she didn’t just love playing the piano—she needed it. The music was a part of her, an expression of her deepest emotions and desires.

Driven by this newfound clarity, Sarah threw herself into her practice sessions with renewed energy. Day after day, she poured her heart and soul into her music, determined to showcase her passion and talent to the world.

As the day of her first public performance approached, Sarah’s nerves threatened to overwhelm her once again.

As the final chords rang out, Sarah held her breath, waiting for the audience’s reaction.

Jameson Lobb, a 24-year-old investment banker from Toronto, was just one week into his new job on Wall Street. Over the past month, he’d been settling in to the New York City apartment he was sharing with his friend, an artificial intelligence engineer named Raphael Jafri.

Now, on Oct.4, the two were taking a quick lunchtime workout on Pier (码头) 15, overlooking the East River, when Lobb froze. “Somebody’s in the water,” he said. Before Jafri could respond, Lobb climbed over the rail at the edge of the pier and jumped into the cold, polluted water without taking the time to remove his shoes. What Lobb had heard was an alarming shout from Pier 16, nearly 50 yards away, “Help! He’s in the water!” And what he’d seen was a person floating (漂浮), motionless.

Approaching the victim, Lobb saw that it was a middle-aged man. He was big, around 200 pounds, respectably dressed and sinking fast. He was 3 feet below the surface by the time Lobb reached him. The rescuer dived, felt around, grasped the man and kicked upward until they both resurfaced.

Jafri was in water now. The two friends used all their strength to float the man on his back, even as the water threatened to overtake them. As Jafri put his arms around the man’s shoulders and Lobb supported him, the pair struggled back to Pier 15. Their lungs cried out for air and their muscles burned as they pushed and pulled the immobile figure through the freezing and fast-moving water.

The man was breathing shallowly, his face pale. When at last they reached Pier 15, they faced a new uncertainty. How to get out? The pier’s decking (甲板) stood an unreachable 10 feet above their heads. It is unlikely for them to climb onto the pier.

Suddenly the man made a slight move, struggling confusedly.

On the pier, a crowd had gathered.

As Lobb and Jafri climbed onto the pier, they were met with cheers and applause.

It was one of those super cold Saturdays in New York. I woke up with my son Bisher, who just turned 13 and was in 6th Grade. He was well organized and had an alarm clock so he woke up on time. When Bisher was taking a bath, I had already made breakfast for my family and we were ready to leave. My pet dogs Milo and Jego were having their mealtime too.

I was going to my parents' farm with my family in my truck, like I always do during winter. It's an hour's drive from New York City to the farm. I was driving a Mitsubishi Triton and the dogs were at the back of the truck.

An hour later, when we all reached the farm, Bisher got so excited that he started to talk to the dogs and imagine what fun they would have during this holiday. When I opened the fence, it was 2:15 pm. In no time I saw my parents' dogs—Jamie and Rocky—rushing into sight, wagging their tails and barking and howling to show their excitement. With all this noisy welcome of dogs, my mom, who was in the kitchen, hurried to open the main door and hugged us tight. After all the meeting and greeting, I went into the room and kept all our luggage.

My father is a farmer, my mom is a housewife, and they live on the farm. That night my family were enjoying my mom's special recipe of fish and chips with vegetable soup and sharing old stories of our childhood memories. At that very moment we heard some strange noise of chickens clucking (咯咯叫) and Jamie's continuous barking. Feeling brave, the three of us—my father, Bisher and I—started to follow the barking.

It was a cold December night and the moon was shining bright.

Upon our return, Bisher told the whole story to my mother.

Though traveling is not a big deal for me today, before my trip to the mountains, I used to be a homebody. I had friends to hang out with, several hobbies, and I felt completely comfortable spending weeks or even months in my hometown — or sometimes even on my block — without going anywhere. All my demands of novelty were satisfied by the Discovery and National Geographic channels, and I seriously thought there was no difference between seeing something on the TV and with one’s own eyes.

The situation changed when one day David, my best friend who always has a couple of colorful bugs in his head (or, in other words, was always carrying out several crazy plans at once), walked into my room and declared his disgust (厌恶) for civilization. I will not describe how he managed to persuade me to join him on his journey to the Rocky Mountains; all I will say is that we departed in five days. This was my first time in the mountains, so I was turning my head in all directions. Unfortunately, the weather was foggy most of the time, and the higher we got into the mountains, the worse the visibility was.

Even despite this fact, I still enjoyed the hike — I felt like I was Bear Grylls, whose show I used to watch with excitement: in the wild, with food and water in my backpack, carrying a flashlight and a knife. On the first day, we were making our way along the foothills; but the next day, we started to climb on one of the peaks. Though it was not that steep and high, I was still excited. I regularly hastened, and because of that, I ran out of energy long before we got to the top; David, on the other hand, was more well-paced.

When we finally got to the top, nothing had changed. The same fog was covering the surroundings, and even though I was filled with positive emotions, I felt disappointed, because I counted on seeing the view from above and perhaps being able to take some photos.

We spent a couple of hours on the top, and decided to turn back.

Seeing all this scenery with my own eyes was truly an eye-opening experience for me.