Suddenly, I saw Miss Lin’s shadow in the distant waves.

That day, she took me to a nameless beach. We buried each other in the sand, and then she dug me out, pulling me by the hand to meet the waves.

In the water, she lifted me—my water-fearing self—carrying me forward, laughing as I cried and begged her to let go. There was only one lifeguard on this vast, wild beach, and the waves were taller than I was. The last thing I wanted was to be swallowed up by them.

Miss Lin just laughed, “I know you can beat the waves. They’re only water—they look as if they’ll swallow you up, but if you don’t fear them, if you stay in the safe zone, the waves are just like puppies that want to play with you.”

“Look,” she said, “even the little kids swim further than we do.”

That day, I swallowed so much saltwater. My little float almost got swept into the deep by waves taller than me. I asked her to let me go, then ran to the shore, gasping, while she chased after me, laughing, “You can do it! Let’s try again.”

And that day, we really did conquer the waves.

I still remember that moment: her holding me in the open sea, completely carefree, experiencing the world as purely as a child.

Moments like these are so simple, yet they are some of the most precious in my life.

In that moment, I couldn’t quite feel happiness or joy; I only tasted the bitter salt of seawater in my stomach, only heard her laughter, teasing me, which even made me a little annoyed at her childishness.

But in that moment, I was truly, deeply embraced by happiness.

In that moment, even with my stomach full of salty seawater, we were the happiest people on earth.

I found happiness. For me, happiness isn’t a sweet apple. Happiness is the vast, bitter, tear-like salt of the sea, expansive and free.

As I looked out at the empty ocean, my tears wouldn’t stop falling.