📖 獅子與老鼠

One hot afternoon in the African savanna, the sun poured down like a thick layer of gold dust. A lion lay sleeping under an old acacia tree, his mane moving gently in the wind like a warm flame. Suddenly, a tiny mouse ran up his tail. The lion opened one eye, saw the mouse trembling on his nose, and pinned it to the grass with one huge paw. "Do you know whose tail you climbed?" the lion asked, his voice low like distant thunder. The mouse's teeth chattered. "Forgive me, I meant no harm." The lion lowered his nose, sniffed the mouse, and laughed. "You are so small, you wouldn't even fill the gap between my teeth." The mouse gathered its courage. "Great Lion, if you let me go, I will repay you one day." The lion paused, then burst out laughing. "You? Repay me?" He let the mouse go. "Go on, then. I don't need a meal, and I don't need a joke." The mouse ran into the grass, turned back once, and remembered the lion's face. Days later, a loud crash echoed across the savanna. The lion was caught in a hunter's net. He struggled, but the net only tightened. He roared, and his roar echoed across the plains, but no one came. The mouse heard it. It poked its head out of its hole, recognized the voice, and ran toward it. When it saw the lion trapped in the net, fear was in the lion's eyes for the first time. "Don't move," the mouse said. It climbed onto the net and began to gnaw the ropes with its tiny teeth. Snap, snap, snap. One by one the ropes broke. The lion rose from the net and looked down at the small mouse. "I told you I would repay you," the mouse said. The lion lowered his head and gently touched the mouse's head with his nose. This time, he did not laugh. The sunset stretched their shadows long—one large, one small. But together, they formed a complete sentence.