As dawn broke, a cool morning breeze carried the unique fragrance of fungi that belonged to the city, brushing against Lin Yi's cheek.

He stepped down from the attic, the stone path beneath his feet feeling warm and smooth to the touch, as if something alive was responding to his footsteps.

Everything has changed, yet it seems like nothing has changed at all.

He remains an ordinary person hidden in the city, his destination the vegetable market on the street corner, one of the few old habits he has retained.

As I passed the street corner, a newly opened breakfast stall was steaming, replacing the old, dilapidated newsstand.

The shop was small, and a young couple was extremely busy.

Lin Yi intended to walk straight past, but the proprietress spotted him with sharp eyes. Her face immediately lit up with a warm smile, and she called out, "Brother, you're here? The usual? Two vegetarian buns and a bowl of unsweetened soy milk?"

Lin Yi's steps suddenly stopped, a ripple of emotion stirring within him.

He was quite certain that, including today, he had only walked this road for three days, and this was the first time he had noticed this new shop.

He never stayed here, so how can it be "the same as always"?

Seemingly noticing his confusion, the proprietress quickly handed over the packaged breakfast, explaining with a smile, "Don't misunderstand, it was the old man who bought breakfast up ahead who told me. He said you pass by at this time every day, and he specifically mentioned that you're a very strange person. You don't like to dip your steamed buns in vinegar, you don't like sweet soy milk, and you never even accept the free pickled vegetables."

That old man in front?

A sense of confusion flashed through Lin Yi's mind; he couldn't recall ever having such a detailed conversation with anyone.

He didn't ask any more questions, but simply nodded silently and accepted the warm breakfast.

He knew that in this world that he had reshaped with his own hands, digging deeper would often uncover more causes and effects that he didn't want to face.

He found a corner seat and sat down. He had just taken a bite of his steamed bun when he heard a child's voice from the next table.

"Mommy, Mommy, what does the Forest God they're talking about look like? Does he have three heads and six arms?"

The young mother gently stroked her child's head, gazing out the window at the road that gleamed faintly in the morning light, and softly replied, "Who knows? It's not written in the books. As long as we know that he built this road, that's enough."

Lin Yi slowed down his chewing, the vegetarian bread in his mouth tasted bland.

He lowered his head, burying his face even deeper into the shadows.

god?

He is no longer that.

Meanwhile, at the other end of the city, lies the Malt Ruins.

Grandma Chen, her body hunched over, arrived here as usual, in the first rays of morning sunlight.

She didn't look at the path of light that served as a monument, but instead walked straight to the edge of the ruins, next to the wall-shaped flower formed from one of Lin Yi's old shoes.

A miracle is on the horizon.

That peculiar plant that once only indicated Lin Yi's footsteps with light spots has now transformed.

Its petals no longer shimmer, but instead condense an unprecedented vitality.

Under the rising sun, a crystal-clear dewdrop slowly gathers at the tip of the largest petal, then with a "plop," it falls precisely into the soil below.

Where the dripping water fell, a slender new shoot, identical to its mother plant, was breaking through the soil.

Shock and understanding flickered in Granny Chen's cloudy eyes.

She crouched down, stretched out her wrinkled hands, and carefully counted.

One, two, three... no more, no less, a total of seven new buds.

They do not grow haphazardly, but rather they surround the mother plant, arranged in a perfect semi-circle.

That formation was just like how their "Night Listeners" team sat around the campfire many years ago, listening to the world's last echoes.

Her eyes welled up with tears, and as she gazed at the silent wallflower, it was as if she were speaking to someone in the void, murmuring in a voice only she could hear: "You don't need to say it, I understand. They... have all returned."

When Lin Yi returned to the attic, the sunlight was shining through the skylight onto his small windowsill.

He immediately noticed that the nameless weed in the flowerpot he had casually tossed aside had grown taller.

What made him even more uneasy was that the mysterious silver patterns on the grass had quietly spread from the leaves to the stems, eventually converging at the roots to form a complete and closed loop.

The silver patterns shimmered and shone, as if they contained some ancient law.

He stared at it quietly for a long time, then took out a small pair of scissors from the drawer.

He didn't pull the whole plant out; instead, he held his breath and gently cut off a small section of the stem with its intact silver veins. Then he returned to his desk and carefully tucked it into the pages of a thick, old book.

As night fell, the attic fell silent.

The old book, with its silvery weeds tucked inside, came to life on its own, untouched by anyone.

The pages flipped automatically with a "whoosh" and stopped on a blank page.

The next second, the silver-veined stem and leaf sandwiched between the pages seemed to come alive, with silver light seeping from the plant's veins, like a nimble paintbrush, quickly outlining and moving across the blank pages.

As the light faded, an exquisitely crafted miniature map was revealed on the paper.

The map's lines are soft yet precise, outlining the old alley that Lin Yi walked every day during his childhood when he and his mother depended on each other for survival.

At the entrance of the alley, two delicate characters formed by converging light floated quietly, exuding a gentle aura—

good morning.

A few days later, Granny Chen gathered several longtime neighbors who had been voluntarily looking after Guangjing and held an informal meeting on the empty platform in front of the Malt Ruins.

The sun was shining warmly, and everyone sat together in a relaxed atmosphere.

Grandma Chen didn't mention Lin Yi at all. She just held up a large water jug ​​and said to everyone with a smile, "Everyone, we've been guarding this road for a while now. I've been thinking that the title 'guardian' is too heavy and too formal. From now on, let's not call ourselves that anymore. We'll just be 'waterers,' coming here every day to water this land and look after the flowers. That's fine."

Everyone was taken aback at first, then they all smiled knowingly.

"Grandma is right!"

"Yes, the person who waters the plants, that's a good title, very fitting!"

Everyone laughed and agreed, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from their shoulders.

As the event ended, a child who had followed them was chasing and playing around when he accidentally kicked over the water bucket that Granny Chen had placed on the ground.

Clear water splashed onto the ground with a "whoosh," quickly spreading over the seemingly ordinary patch of mycelial soil.

The moment the water seeped into the ground, something unexpected happened!

Beneath that layer of mycelium, streams of soft light were instantly activated. They rapidly intertwined and converged, forming three clear characters on the damp ground: "Thank you."

The light lasted only a few seconds before disappearing as the moisture seeped in.

Everyone was stunned, and the child who had kicked over the bucket was too frightened to utter a sound.

Grandma Chen simply shook her head, bent down to pick up the bucket, and said to everyone with a faint smile on her face, "Look, it's alive. But it's not thanking me; it's thanking the road itself for living long enough and remembering well enough."

As the days went by, Lin Yi's life seemed to return to the deliberately maintained tranquility.

One day, when he returned from grocery shopping as usual, he climbed up to the attic and found a small bamboo basket in front of his door.

The basket contained a few crisp green vegetables and two fresh tomatoes, with a note on top. The note, written in neat handwriting, read: "I'm new here, please forgive me if I don't take good care of you."

He picked up the note, looked up at the narrow and empty stairwell, where the neighbors' doors were tightly shut and not a sound could be heard.

He had never heard of any new neighbors moving into the old building.

That evening, he was reading by the window when he suddenly heard a very faint rustling sound outside.

He looked up alertly and peered out the window. He saw a silver ray of light, thinner than a strand of hair, extending from the crack of the tightly closed window next door. Like a lively tentacle, it gently wrapped around the frame of his window, lingered for about three seconds, and then swiftly withdrew.

Lin Yi's heart sank. It was a wallflower on his neighbor's windowsill, greeting him.

One month later, on a clear morning, a thin mist filled the air.

Grandma Chen walked along the pebbled path leading to the malt ruins, her steps unhurried.

Suddenly, she heard a series of equally steady footsteps behind her.

She didn't turn around immediately, but slowed down.

The footsteps grew closer and closer, until they were walking alongside her.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and saw an unfamiliar old man with gray hair and a calm face. He was carrying an old-fashioned vegetable basket that seemed out of place in this era, and his steps were steady for someone his age.

She didn't speak, but simply nodded slightly to the old man as a greeting.

The old man responded with a calm nod.

The two walked side by side in silence, completing the last stretch of the road leading to the ruins.

At the entrance to the ruins, the old man stopped, glanced at the morning light on the horizon, and said softly, as if stating a fact, "The weather is nice today."

Grandma Chen smiled, a smile that carried a hint of relief and understanding.

She turned her head, looked earnestly at this unfamiliar "old neighbor," and replied gently, "Yes, good morning."

The moment the words fell, each pebble on the winding pebble path behind them seemed to shimmer with a fleeting glimmer of light before fading back into the ordinary.

The light wasn't meant to illuminate anyone; it was simply because it was alive and, at that moment, felt a sense of fulfillment.

The old man seemed oblivious to this, and turned to slowly walk away in another direction.

Watching the old woman's figure disappear into the morning mist, Granny Chen turned and went home.

Meanwhile, Lin Yi, who had just finished his morning exercise, returned to his attic.

He glanced habitually at the doorway; the familiar little bamboo basket was still in the same old spot, only the contents seemed to have changed.

His gaze was fixed on the note that was still on the basket, and the string of "peace" in his heart was finally plucked.