The Smiling Angel
Her name was Shasha, denoting the sound of fresh leaves stirred by the breeze in spring, yet her smile was not that soothing. She was a girl with so few words that the ever-present smile on her face was rendered faint and elusive.
The three teachers of my class, though confused, determined to go all out to make her speak. In class we asked questions, shared jokes, designed games and held debates. She watched and listened attentively, leaning a little forward with that gentle smile on her face, showing respect but not the least intention to communicate.
The reason why Shasha kept smiling quietly seemed unfathomable. Even hard work was not able to erase the smile from her face. As I recalled, on the first day of the summer camp, all the members participated in cleaning classrooms. After the toilsome task, when by chance I caught a glimpse of Shasha, whose flushing cheeks, brightened eyes, curved cherry lips, along with the glistening sweat oozing from her forehead, formed a most beautiful smile, such radiance amazed me. Since I could perceive the kindness and tenderness rooted in her nature, I began to assume that her quiet smile conveyed no peculiarity of her character but the likelihood of a story in it.
It was not until in the middle of the summer camp that the class had the chance to fully appreciate Shasha’s voice, in the form of a song. After several times of beating around the bush, we found her taste for music. Therefore we pled with her to hum a