The Wenbi Tower hooks a cold crescent moon, overlooking thousands of lights, enjoying the vast night alone. At the summit, through the ages

Wenbi Tower Night Thoughts

With nothing to do at night, I climbed Wenbi Tower alone. The tower stands tall, pitch black, piercing the heart of the sky. Below the tower are thousands of lights, above it a few sparse stars, and in between is me, suspended in midair, neither up nor down.

By day, this tower is ordinary, just a brick and stone building. But at night, it looks quite different. Surrounded by darkness, only the tower’s tip holds a new crescent moon, shining coldly. The tower’s shadow lies slanting on the ground, even longer than the tower itself, like another dark twin quietly stretching its limbs.

Climbing the tower, the wooden ladder creaks, as if telling stories of a hundred years of vicissitudes. Each step has been polished smooth by countless footsteps; stepping on them, I can’t help but think of those who climbed before me—where are they now? The inner walls of the tower are covered with visitors’ writings: poems, names, vows of eternal love, and even crude words. These words are indistinct in the dark, but I know they exist, like countless secret thoughts sealed between these bricks.

At the top, the wind grows stronger. Leaning on the railing and looking far, the small town’s night scene unfolds before my eyes. Distant streetlights form bands of light, cars shuttle through like flowing rivers of stars. Nearby houses flicker with window lights, and under each light, there is probably a story unfolding—joyful or sorrowful, ordinary or extraordinary. The joys and sorrows of the world do not connect, but standing high above, I find them noisy yet endearing.

Suddenly I think, the name “Wenbi” means literary prosperity. Local scholars have always revered it, coming to pay respects before exams, as if the tower truly holds the divine power of the literary star. But matters of writing, how could a brick tower influence them? It’s merely a way to seek peace of mind.

The night wind grows chilly, and I prepare to descend. Before leaving, I look back once more. Wenbi Tower stands silently in the night, its pointed top still holding that crescent moon. It has seen countless comings and goings, heard many sighs and laughter, yet it remains silent, just standing—from the past to the present, and on into the unknown future.

After descending, looking back, the tower has blended into the night, leaving only a vague outline. Yet some burdens in my heart, I don’t know when they were scattered away by the night wind.

Post by Riley345_Bell | Sep 8, 2025