The World is a Giant Watermelon

A lonely boy， Tongtong， made friends with an ant. She is a queen ant. The queen ant has many children but does not want to be a mother and always misses her mother until she meets an elderly man. That man told the queen ant that her mother never left her alone， as long as she felt it with her heart. Tongtong becomes stronger with the queen ant， and he is no longer alone. Using a parallel-line narrative， this book interprets a life chant of ants， cicadas， and" a boy. The work is sentimental and philosophical， leading readers to explore the essence of love and life.

Sun Huifen

She has written seven short stories and novels and won many awards such as Feng Mu Literature Award， Cao Xueqin Novel Award， and the Chinese Women Literature Award. She was shortlisted for the annual list of Chinese novels and the 6th， 7th， and 10th Maodun Literature Awards.

It was the second night that I really left my childhood behind.

At eight that evening， I left the door ajar and ran out secretly. My house was on the ground floor， and the ginkgo tree was in plain view. As soon as I brought my secret back home， hid it in a glass， and shut the door behind me， the flood of grievances never returned. What blocked that flood was a myriad of questions.

Why do begonia trees produce nectar but not ginkgo trees? And why would the perennial queen ant move back here if the ginkgo trees had no nectar? Most crucially， after she met the unique Old Grandpa， did she never wish to run away again?

As he blurted out so many questions at once， the perennial-queen-ant couldn’t stop giggling and said， “You’re a funny child， Tongtong. Do you think you can still taste the flavor if you stuffed a whole bunch of candies in your mouth all at once?”

I said defiantly， “It’s all your fault for covering up the secret so tight!”

“Child， you have to be patient to get what you want! Likewise， candies are to be tasted one piece at a time.”

She called me a child again. But I didn’t mind as I wanted to get my candy sooner， “Just start with the last question then. Did you run away that day or not?”

“Silly thing， how could I meet you here today if I had run away?”

“If only there were an Old Grandpa and a peony tree right here in my neighborhood， maybe my mom wouldn’t have left?” I muttered to myself.

She didn’t answer and kept reminiscing:

If an ant is to become a mother， she must fly to the outside world to find a mate， which humans call the nuptial flight. After my nuptial flight that year， I returned to the ground and picked this root， not even knowing it was a begonia tree. I just didn’t want to be too far from my mom， who was under a cherry tree nearby. Did you not know that in the world of ants， as soon as you become a mother， you are forever away from your mother and can never go back home? But it was not a fate I was willing to accept. I ran away that morning and climbed up the tree， not for the nectar but because I wanted to find my way back home. Old Grandpa put me back in the crack of the trunk， but I wouldn’t stay for a second before running back toward the cherry tree. Old Grandpa was already waiting for me under the cherry tree. He blocked the anthill with his foot and reminded me aloud， “You have taken the wrong direction. This is not your home!”

I didn’t want to talk when I first met Old Grandpa. I’m aware of how many lives of my kind have been harmed and killed by humans since the beginning of time. But the Old Grandpa was unflagging， “This is not your home!” He kept repeating. Finally， realizing I wouldn’t listen， he picked me up gently with his fingers and sent me back to the peony tree. I snapped and said， “Why won’t you leave me alone? I miss my mom!”

The Old Grandpa didn’t get mad at me. Instead， he said calmly， “Child， your mom never left you， it’s just that you cannot sense her.”

I didn’t believe a word and began throwing a tantrum by kicking my legs， “I don’t understand why my mom would conceive me if she didn’t want me after all?”

I listened quietly as I felt a flood brewing in the depths of my heart. Just as the flood was about to grow turbulent， it quickly subsided. Guess why? It was when the Old Grandpa said， “Your mom never left you; it’s just that you cannot sense her.” I entreated the perennial-queen-ant anxiously， “Did you ask him how you could sense your mom?”

“Of course I did， but he wouldn’t answer. He simply dug up a watermelon seed from the dirt， buried it deep under the soil， and said in a coarse voice， ‘This seed will tell you when summer comes.’”

“Summer? Watermelon seed?”

“When summer finally arrived， I poked my head out of the anthill every morning to see if Old Grandpa was there. Then one day， he did come and sat right at the opening of the anthill. I climbed on the back of his feet; he instantly understood where I was coming from. He picked me up gently and walked over to a nearby watermelon patch， kicked open a large watermelon， tossed me into the flesh， and said: ‘Look at all these watermelon seeds， each one of them thinking they are on their own， but think about it， aren’t they all embraced by their mother?’”

I couldn’t help jolting up the bed. The Old Grandpa was so right! The world is like a giant watermelon! My mom and I are both in the watermelon!

But then I thought again and realized that the pulp of the watermelon would rot， but not its seeds. In that sense， the seeds still end up lonely.

I told the perennial-queen-ant what I thought， and she blurted， “That was precisely my question too. But the Old Grandpa said that， as it is buried in the soil， the watermelon seeds will grow new watermelons the next year so that the sprout can belong with the pulp forever this way!”

I didn’t quite understand this part; if the seed grows a new watermelon， it is no longer the same. Moreover， growing a new watermelon makes the seed more like a mother. Most importantly， the seed and the melon are always connected， just like my mother and I， who are still connected even though we only see each other once a month. But the watermelon seed would need to ensure solitude throughout a long winter after it has been buried underground.

Noticing my silence， the perennial-queen-ant said， “Old Grandpa already knew what we would think， and he told us that the watermelon seed would never feel lonely when buried in the soil because it is in the earth.”

“But the earth doesn’t speak!” I said， worried.

“You’re wrong. Everything in the world has a soul. You can’t hear them speak because you don’t believe that they can. You believe in ants， and that’s why we became friends， right?”

Her words made me come to my senses， and I soon rejoiced. That’s true! How could I be friends with her if I did not believe in ants? What’s more， who could deny that rivers， grasslands， and crop fields could all be the spoken spirit of the earth?