Sunny visit
The lingering sound of the door closing lingered in the empty living room for a moment before being swallowed by the even greater silence. Ye Shu washed and hung the rag, each movement precise and economical, without any unnecessary flourishes. He returned to his seat on the sofa, the remaining half-cup of tea in his cup now lukewarm. He sipped it, his gaze returning to the window.
The disturbance caused by the overly sweet cake subsided like a fleeting ripple on the water. The vibrant energy brought by Chen Xu was also like an insignificant gust of wind, which blew away and then dissipated.
However, half an hour later, the doorbell rang again.
It was still that indomitable, life-giving rhythm, but this time the intervals were slightly longer, making it seem less impatient.
Ye Shu's hand holding the tea cup paused, ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly. He didn't move.
There was silence outside for a few seconds, and then there was the sound of a key being inserted into the lock. The door was pushed open a crack, and Chen Xu poked his head in, with an expression that was a mixture of apology and "I knew it" on his face.
"Well," he shook the key in his hand, "I forgot to return the key you gave me last time. By the way... I think I left my phone here with you? I was just taking pictures of the cake."
He squeezed in and quickly scanned the empty living room. Sure enough, he saw his cell phone with a bright case in the corner of the long table.
"Look! I told you it fell here!" He quickly walked over to pick up the phone, breathed a sigh of relief, and then looked at Ye Shu again, with a bit of inquiry in his eyes, "Are you okay? Did I disturb you just now?"
Ye Shu put down the teacup, and the bottom of the cup made a very light "knock" sound when it touched the table. He raised his eyes and fell on Chen Xu's face calmly: "No."
"Really?" Chen Xu wasn't entirely convinced. He took two steps closer, sizing him up like a large dog. "Why did I feel like you were... even more 'sparsely leafed' just now? It's just a feeling, you know? It's that feeling of, 'Oh, the noisy things are finally gone, and the world is quiet now.'"
Ye Shu did not answer this question, but simply asked: "Your game?"
"Ah? Oh, that," Chen Xu scratched his head, a little embarrassed, "Actually, it's just a few buddies making an appointment to play ball. It's okay to go later." He seemed to have made up his mind to stay a little longer, and naturally slumped back into the single sofa, as if this was his regular seat.
"I'm telling you, Ye Shu," he said, adopting a earnest tone, "It's really not okay for you to stay alone like this all the time. People need socializing, friends, and excitement! Otherwise, there will be problems!"
"What's the problem?" Ye Shu asked, and it was hard to tell from his tone whether it was curiosity or simple repetition.
"It's just... you will become not like a human!" Chen Xu waved his arms, "You will be lonely, depressed, and... you will be out of touch with society! Just like you are now, with no interest in anything, no desires, following... following..." He was stuck, and couldn't seem to find the right words.
"Immortal?" Ye Shu offered the choice, his tone still calm.
"Yes! Just like a god!" Chen Xu slapped his thigh, "But we are mortals! We have to deal with the mundane world! You have to stand up straight, brother!"
Ye Shu's gaze swept across Chen Xu's cheeks, slightly flushed with excitement, and landed on the small, slightly crooked logo on the chest of his sweatshirt. He was silent for a few seconds before speaking, his voice as soft as a wisp of dust that had just drifted across the windowsill:
"Looking at too many fireworks will burn your eyes."
Chen Xu was choked again. He opened his mouth, but finally his shoulders slumped in frustration. "Okay, I can't argue with you. You always have a point." He sighed, his tone softening. "I just... I just think you're a good person. You shouldn't be so... so alone."
This time, Ye Shu didn't respond immediately. He turned back and gazed out the window again. The setting sun cast a warm, though fleeting, golden hue over the skyscraper-lined city skyline. The angle of the light shifted, elongating half of his figure, casting it across the polished floor.
Chen Xu followed his gaze and also quieted down. After a while, he suddenly asked softly, "Ye Shu, have you ever experienced anything before?"
This question is more direct than all the previous ones and touches the core.
Ye Shu's figure remained motionless in the sunset, not even her eyelashes fluttering. The clouds outside the window shifted in color, from golden yellow to orange, and then to crimson purple.
Just when Chen Xu thought he wouldn't answer, and even began to regret asking so abruptly, he heard Ye Shu's voice, deeper and slower than usual, as if coming from far away:
"Experience..." He repeated the word, as if savoring its meaning, "It's just seeing some comings and goings."
He didn't specify what the gathering and separation were, and his tone wasn't filled with sadness or nostalgia, only a deep indifference, the kind that comes from having experienced a tremendous cycle. It was as if the gathering and separation were like the mist in the mountains, the falling leaves of the four seasons, a perfectly natural law, not worth making a fuss about, nor worth reiterating.
Chen Xu's heart felt like something was gently tugging at him. He stared at Ye Shu's silhouette, outlined by the setting sun. The figure was clearly before him, yet it seemed as if separated by an impenetrable layer of time, distant and lonely. His grand theories about "lively" and "standing up" seemed so pale and ridiculous at that moment.
He fell silent, no longer trying to fill the silence with words.
The two of them, one sitting and the other slumped, maintained a strange peace in the gradually dimming light. The only sounds in the air were their gentle breathing and the eternal background hum of the city.
Finally, it was Chen Xu's cell phone ringing that broke the silence. The sharp rhythm of the pop music seemed particularly abrupt.
Chen Xu jumped up as if startled awake, and answered the phone in a panic: "Hello? Ah... right now! I'll be right there!" He hung up and said to Ye Shu hastily, "Well... I really have to go. They're rushing me."
Ye Shu nodded slightly.
Chen Xu walked to the door, then paused, looking back at Ye Shu, who was still sitting in the dim light. The last bit of sunset light was fading from him, making him look like a statue about to merge into the darkness.
"Um...Saturday morning at seven o'clock," Chen Xu's voice unconsciously softened, "don't forget."
Ye Shu withdrew his gaze from the window, fell on him very lightly, and paused for a second.
"Yeah." A monosyllabic response.
Chen Xu seemed to have received some important promise, and a smile appeared on his face again: "It's a deal!"
The door closed again.
This time, the apartment was completely shrouded in twilight. Without turning on the lights, Ye Shu sat in the rapidly falling darkness for a long time, motionless.
Until the lights of the city outside the window lit up one after another, like an inverted galaxy, casting a cold halo into his light-colored pupils, which were still empty and could not reflect any fireworks.
Dusk completely engulfed the room, with only the distant, pinprick-like light outside the window providing a faint illumination. Ye Shu sat quietly in the darkness for a moment longer, until the remaining tea in his cup had completely cooled, and then he slowly stood up.
He didn't turn on the lights, walking barefoot on the cold floor, like a ghost familiar with its own territory, precisely avoiding the outlines of all furniture. He entered the small bedroom connected to the living room, which was also furnished with extreme simplicity: a low tatami floor, a set of neatly folded thin quilts, and nothing else.
He didn't rest immediately, but instead walked to the bedroom window. This window faced the opposite direction from the living room. Outside, instead of the glittering city center, was the rooftops of the old town and the hazy silhouette of the mountains beyond. As the night deepened, only a few scattered lights lit up, while the majority of the area was shrouded in inky darkness, completely silent.
He stood there, watching for a long time. It wasn't admiration, nor was it nostalgia, but more like... an inspection, or perhaps a silent companionship, blending into the vast, dreamlike silence.
After a long moment, he turned around and washed himself very simply. The sound of running water echoed briefly in the silent apartment, then quickly faded away. He lay down on the floor and pulled the thin blanket over him, his movements as regular as if completing some ritual.
Sleep, for him, seemed not a necessity born of exhaustion, but another form of silence. He closed his eyes, his breathing quickly becoming long and steady, but his brows were slightly furrowed, almost imperceptibly, as if even in dreamless sleep, a thin film of wakefulness still separated him, sensing every faint breath of the world outside the window.
---
The next morning, the sky was still dark, a hazy gray-blue. The city hadn't fully woken up yet, and the noise was as low as a buzzing sound.
Ye Shu had already woken up. Still wearing his plain clothes, he sat on the living room floor, his back to the huge French window, facing a blank wall. His posture wasn't one of meditation, but rather a casual one.
There was a glass of water next to him.
He didn't move, just breathed. His chest rose and fell so slowly it seemed to stop. Time seemed to thicken around him, its flow slowing. Dust began to dance in the brightening light, a silent miniature snowstorm.
“Ding Dong! Ding Dong Ding Dong Ding Dong!”
The doorbell ripped through the silence once again, explosively, earlier than yesterday and with even more unbridled energy.
"Ye Shu! Open the door! Morning exercise! It's time for morning exercise!" Chen Xu's voice pierced through the door, resounding beyond belief for such a late morning. "I brought you breakfast! Absolutely healthy! A sugar-free, oil-free, whole-wheat sandwich!"
Ye Shu's closed eyelashes trembled ever so slightly, like a butterfly's wings drenched in dew. He slowly opened his eyes. His pale pupils held no trace of the dazed state of newly awakened eyes, only a deep, unfathomable calm after being disturbed. He didn't get up.
The person outside the door seemed certain that he was behind it and began to knock on the door rhythmically: "Ye-Shu-! I know you're awake! Your body clock is more accurate than your alarm clock! Open the door quickly! The sandwich is getting cold!"
The knocking on the door and shouting continued, with a determination not to give up until the goal was achieved.
Ye Shu let out a very light, almost silent sigh. It carried a faint, almost resigned, feeling of helplessness. He finally stood up and walked towards the door.
The door opened. Chen Xu was wearing a bright red tracksuit, his hair standing up in a vibrant way, a wide smile on his face, and holding a brown paper bag in his hand.
"Good morning! The morning sets the tone for the day! Look how considerate I am to accompany you for morning exercises!" He squeezed in again without waiting for an invitation, bringing with him the cool air and vigorous heat from outside.
Ye Shu took a half step back and looked at him silently.
"Come on, come on, eat it while it's hot!" Chen Xu stuffed the paper bag into Ye Shu's hand and began to do stretching exercises like a pro, stretching his legs and twisting his waist, while chanting slogans, "One, two, three, four, two, two, three, four..."
Ye Shu looked down at the paper bag. Inside was a plainly wrapped sandwich. He took it out, unwrapped it, and took a small bite. He chewed slowly, his face expressionless.
"How is it? Healthy, right? I watched the clerk make it, and he definitely didn't add any weird stuff!" Chen Xu asked while raising his legs high, his breathing steady.
"Hmm." Ye Shu swallowed the food in his mouth and gave a one-syllable evaluation. He walked to the table, picked up the glass of cold water, and took a sip.
"I knew you'd like it!" Chen Xu translated automatically, exercising even more vigorously. "After you finish eating, let's go downstairs and run a couple of laps? Just around the small park out back? There aren't many people around this time, and the air is fresh!"
Ye Shu held the sandwich and looked out the window. The gray-blue sky was gradually brightening, tinged with light gold.
"Today," he began, his voice slightly hoarse from the dry food he had just eaten, "the air quality index is 73, which is below good. PM2.5 particulate matter is suspended in the atmosphere, and inhaling too much is not good for the respiratory tract."
Chen Xu froze in mid-air, his expression falling. "...Ye Shu, could you please stop being such a dampener? Exercising and sweating occasionally is good for your health!"
"Sweat evaporation removes water and electrolytes from the body's surface," Ye Shu said calmly, taking another bite of his sandwich. "They need additional replenishment. Also, blood vessel tension is higher in the morning, so strenuous exercise may increase cardiovascular stress."
Chen Xu completely lost his temper and collapsed on the sofa, wailing, "It's so hard to chat with you! I just wanted to get you to move around! Look at you, you're so pale, like you've never been in the sun!"
Ye Shu finished the last bite of his sandwich, carefully folded the wrapper, and put it in the trash can. He walked to the window and looked out at the street below where pedestrians and vehicles were gradually appearing.
"Sunbathing," he said softly, his back to Chen Xu. "It's ineffective through glass. You need direct exposure to UVB rays, but be careful about the duration to avoid sunburn and an increased risk of skin cancer."
Chen Xu pretended to be dead on the sofa, covering his face with a pillow: "I don't want to listen anymore! I don't want to listen anymore! You're chanting like a sutra..."
Ye Shu stopped talking. The morning light grew brighter, illuminating his silhouette standing by the window. Downstairs, an old man was practicing Tai Chi, his movements as gentle as the rolling and unrolling of clouds.
Chen Xu peeked out from under his pillow, furtively watching Ye Shu's back. The figure stood tall yet distant, as if it would melt into the increasingly intense light at any moment. He suddenly put the pillow down and spoke in a more serious tone, "Ye Shu, what on earth have you been thinking about all day long, alone?"
Ye Shu didn't turn around, nor did he answer immediately. His gaze might have followed the old man's slow push downstairs, or perhaps it had fallen on the distant sky.
Just when Chen Xu thought he would use some mysterious words to prevaricate, he heard Ye Shu's voice, calmly stating a simple fact:
"I wasn't thinking about anything." He paused, as if searching for a more accurate expression. "Just watching. Listening."
"Watching? Listening?" Chen Xu sat up, puzzled. "What are you watching? What are you listening to?"
"The change in light. The trail of dust. The direction of the wind." Ye Shu's voice remained flat as he listed these insignificant things. "The conversation downstairs. The sounds from the construction site in the distance. The sound of water running in the pipe."
Chen Xu was stunned. He tried to imagine that state—not thinking, not remembering, not planning, but simply perceiving these subtle existences that were almost ignored by everyone. This made him feel an inexplicable emptiness and... awe.
"Then...what then?" he couldn't help but ask.
"Nothing happened after that." Ye Shu slowly turned around. The morning light spread behind him, making his face a little blurry. Only his light-colored eyes remained clear, looking calmly at Chen Xu. "They exist. I sense them. That's all."
That's all.
Chen Xu opened his mouth, but found himself unable to utter a single word. Looking at Ye Shu, he realized for the first time that what he considered "loneliness" and "boredom" might actually be an infinitely rich and vast world for Ye Shu. And the bustle and "normal life" he tried to force upon him might actually be the real noise and distraction.
The room fell into a strange silence, with only the faint sound of traffic coming from downstairs and the growing birdsong outside the window.
Chen Xu scratched his head, looking a little bewildered and embarrassed for the first time: "Oh... so that's it..."
Ye Shu's gaze passed over him, and he returned to the kitchen, picking up the kettle and filling it with water, as if preparing to make his first cup of tea of the day. His movements were unhurried, as if the conversation just now was just a fallen leaf brushing across the water, causing no ripples.
Chen Xu looked at his back and suddenly felt that his overly enthusiastic "morning exercise invitation" today might really be unnecessary.
He touched his nose and stood up from the sofa: "Then...then you have some tea. I...I'll leave first. There's a morning meeting at the company..."
"Yeah." Ye Shu responded with his back to him.
Chen Xu walked to the door, hesitated for a moment, turned around and said, "So...are you still going hiking on Saturday?"
The sound of rushing water was loud. Ye Shu did not look back.
Just when Chen Xu thought he would not get a response, the light voice mixed with the sound of water came:
"Um."
The hum of a filling kettle replaced the sound of running water, becoming the dominant note in the kitchen. Chen Xu stood at the door, gripping the handle. Ye Shu's "hmm," mingled with the gurgling sound of the water, was like a pebble dropped into a deep pond—light yet reliably dropped. A flicker of relief crossed his face, and then he nodded vigorously, as if trying to convince himself.
"It's a deal! Saturday! Seven o'clock! I'll be there on time!" He almost shouted these words, and then as if afraid that Ye Shu would go back on his word, he quickly opened the door and slipped out.
The door closed with a click, completely locking out the remaining energy of Chen Xu.
In the kitchen, the hum of the kettle grew louder, becoming increasingly sharp until it reached its climax. Then, with a click, the circuit breaker tripped, and the world returned to silence. Only the subtle sizzling sound of the heating wire cooling continued.
Ye Shu picked up the kettle and poured boiling water into the plain ceramic cup, which had already been filled with tea leaves. The dry, curled leaves tumbled and unfurled in the torrent, releasing a tea fragrance even richer than the previous day, with a slightly astringent aroma of the wild countryside, which quickly filled the air.
He held the teacup in his hand and, instead of returning to the sofa in the living room, he leaned against the cold sink, sipping it. The hot tea slid down his throat, bringing a brief warmth that was then absorbed by his body's constant temperature.
The morning light was now bright, filtering through the window and illuminating the small kitchen area. In the light, one could clearly see the extremely fine wear marks on the countertop and the almost transparent wisp of steam rising from the rim of the cup.
His eyes fell unfocused on the white brick wall opposite, as if he was following his own words - "just watching".
After finishing his cup of tea, he carefully rinsed it and placed it upside down on the drain. Then, he walked toward the apartment door. Not to leave, but to take a soft, thin, hooded jacket, also off-white, from a spartan hook behind the door. He put it on and zipped it up to his chest.
He walked back to the living room's French windows. The street below had already come alive, traffic was gathering, and the sound of horns and engines was faintly audible. Hurrying figures moved swiftly along the sidewalk, like a swarm of ants driven by an invisible force.
After looking for a while, he turned and walked towards the door. Without changing his shoes, he just wore the pair of soft-soled cloth shoes he wore indoors and opened the door.
The hallway was empty, and the sensor light came on at the sound of him opening the door. He stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor. The slight feeling of weightlessness as the elevator descended didn't change his expression at all.
The apartment building's lobby was simple and cold, its marble floor gleaming with light. The property staff nodded to him, seemingly accustomed to his appearance at this hour. Ye Shu nodded slightly in return, then, without stopping, pushed open the heavy glass door and walked outside.
Instantly, the vast sound of the city enveloped him. Car exhaust, the aroma of food from breakfast vendors, dust, and the mingled scent of countless people formed a thick, warm current, a stark contrast to the clear, cold silence of the apartment.
Ye Shu's footsteps paused imperceptibly, like a diver suddenly entering the interface between different water temperatures. But he quickly adapted and continued walking along the sidewalk at his leisurely pace.
It's not that he doesn't have a destination. It's just that his destination isn't a specific store or place. His walk is more like an immersive scan of his surroundings.
His eyes swept across the neatly trimmed but lifeless green belt on the roadside. A small tree with yellow leaves caught his attention. He stopped for a few seconds, his eyes lingering on the unhealthy yellow, as if reading some information, and then continued on his way.
He passed a bus stop where several office workers were looking down at their phones, their faces filled with anxiety or numbness. His gaze swept across the reflections of their screens without lingering, as if they were the most meaningless noise.
Waiting for the red light at an intersection, he found himself next to a couple engaged in a quiet argument. The woman was grumbling rapidly, while the man, brow furrowed, retorted impatiently. Their emotions were like a turbulent low-pressure cyclone.
Ye Shu stood at the edge of the cyclone, his gaze calmly watching the flickering red light across from him. Only when the light turned green and the couple, still carrying unresolved resentment, hurried away did he join the crowd across the zebra crossing. From beginning to end, he never glanced sideways.
He walked into a large supermarket. Inside, it was brightly lit, goods piled high, cheerful but loud music played from the radio, and the wheels of shopping carts scraped against the floor, making a loud noise. Many people had an expression of almost greedy searching.
Ye Shu stopped at a rice stand. Rice from different brands and origins, packaged in clear plastic, formed a wall. He reached out, his fingertips lightly brushing against the packages, not selecting but rather feeling the faint texture of the grains through the plastic. His eyes were focused, like a scholar examining an ancient tome.
A salesman came over enthusiastically: "Sir, would you like to buy some rice? We are having a promotion on this Northeastern fragrant rice..."
Ye Shu seemed not to have heard, so he withdrew his hand and turned to walk towards the fruit and vegetable section. The salesperson stood there awkwardly.
The fruit and vegetable section was a vibrant amalgam of color, brimming with the vitality of forced ripening and meticulously preserved freshness. He stopped at a stall piled with oranges and picked one up. The orange's skin was vibrant, yet felt a bit too smooth and tough. He lowered his head, sniffed it ever so lightly, then frowned slightly and put the orange back where it belonged.
He didn't buy anything, but simply moved slowly and silently between the crowded shelves, like a calm observer walking in a huge and noisy ecosystem. The surrounding noise, crowds, and commercial enthusiasm seemed unable to truly penetrate the invisible barrier around him.
Eventually, he left the supermarket from another exit and took a slightly longer route back to his apartment.
On the way back, there was a small park where a few elderly people were leisurely practicing Tai Chi and playing chess. A child was chasing a colorful ball, giggling.
Ye Shu sat down on a wrought-iron bench at the edge of the park. He didn't look at the elderly people, nor at the child. Instead, he stared at a nearby ginkgo tree, which was beginning to shed its yellow leaves. The golden leaves swirled and swayed, falling silently to form a thin layer across the grass.
He just watched quietly, as if the process of falling leaves contained the ultimate truth of the universe.
The wind blew, ruffling the strands of hair on his forehead and picking up a few fallen leaves on the ground, which swirled away.
He raised his head slightly, feeling the touch of the wind across his cheeks, his light-colored pupils reflecting the high blue sky and flowing clouds of autumn.
At that moment, he was sitting on the street in a bustling city, but it felt like he was sitting at the end of the world.
A ginkgo leaf, carried by the wind, landed right on his knees. The leaf was golden yellow, with a hint of burnt brown at the edges.
He lowered his head and stared at the leaf for a long time. Then, he stretched out two fingers and carefully picked up the petiole, holding the leaf up to his eyes. He held it up to the light and carefully examined the tiny veins on it, as if reading a secret letter from autumn.
After reading it, he flicked his wrist lightly, sending the leaf back into the wind, watching it flutter and fall into the grass farther away.
He stood up, straightened his coat, and walked slowly towards the apartment building.
His back is still thin and distant, out of tune with everything around him.
It was as if he had only landed on the earth temporarily and would soon return with the wind.
Back in the hallway downstairs, the tepid air outside was replaced by the chill of the air conditioner. The property manager nodded again, a subtle hint of inquiry in her eyes—this gentleman seemed to have been out a little longer than usual. Ye Shu responded with a slight nod, a polite, programmed response without any added emotion.
The elevator ascended, the numbers ticking quietly. The small space was filled with the sweet, sharp scent of perfume from an unknown resident, a stark contrast to the barely perceptible dust and autumn breeze brought by Ye Shu. He stared at his own blurry reflection on the metal door, a hazy grayish-white blur.
"bite."
The elevator doors slid open, and the corridor was silent. The sensor light lit up at his footsteps, the dim light stretching his shadow across the dark-carpeted corridor, moving silently.
He inserted the key into the lock and turned it. The moment he pushed the door open, the almost frozen silence of the apartment, which he had cultivated for so long, washed over him, quickly enveloping him and washing away all the clamor from outside. He stood in the entranceway, like a plant relocated to its proper environment, and stretched ever so slightly—not a physical movement, but rather a sense of inner, invisible aura settling.
He took off his coat and hung it back up. He changed into soft cloth shoes. He walked to the sink and picked up the kettle again. This time, he didn't fill it immediately. Instead, he stretched out his finger and lightly wiped the countertop—there was a nearly invisible speck of dust brought in from outside.
After completing the action, he began to collect water and boil it, repeating the same morning steps to make a cup of the same wild tea.
Then, carrying his teacup, he walked over to the long table. It was empty except for the creases in the brown paper bag Chen Xu had left that morning. He didn't sit on the sofa or chair, but directly on the floor, his back against the table leg, one leg casually bent, his arm resting on his knee.
This posture made him look less like a display item, and gave him a rare, relaxed air of humanity, although his eyes remained distant.
He just sat there, drinking tea, watching the light move slowly across the room, sliding from the east wall to the south wall, the angle gradually rising, the brightness reaching its peak, and then beginning to soften, tinged with a light golden color.
During this time, he got up once and added water.
In the afternoon, the doorbell didn't ring. His phone lay quietly in the corner—aside from the photo of the mountaintop sent by Chen Xu, there were no new messages. It was as if the world had temporarily forgotten him, or rather, he had successfully blocked out the world.
When the setting sun stretched the shadow of the window frame extremely long, casting it on the floor like a clear fence, he put down the teacup that had already gone cold.
He stood up, walked to the bedroom, and picked up an old-looking wooden box from the corner of the tatami floor. The box had no carvings, only the natural texture of the wood, and it was warm to the touch.
He returned to the living room, carrying the box, and sat down on a patch of floor where the setting sun could just barely reach. He opened the lid. Inside was no rare treasure, but rather ordinary odds and ends: a few pebbles of various colors and shapes, their surfaces rubbed smooth; a dead branch of an odd shape; a few perfectly preserved fallen leaves, their veins as clear as a picture; and a small bundle of rice paper strips tied with hemp rope, on which were written, in faint ink, some barely legible, scattered words.
He didn't pick up each object individually to admire it, but simply looked at it. His gaze drifted slowly over them, like a breeze across water, silent yet profound. His fingers hovered in the air, occasionally lightly brushing the surface of a stone or the edge of a leaf, not touching them physically, but rather sensing the intangible passages of time and information they carried.
He picked up the topmost piece of rice paper. The ink on it was so faint that it seemed to be fading, and it read two words: [Boat Passing].
No context, no date. Just two words.
He stared at the two words for a long time. The golden light of the setting sun fell right on the paper, darkening the yellowed paper even further. The light ink writing actually appeared a little clearer under the light.
His expression didn't change at all, but his eyes seemed to become more distant, as if he could see through the paper and see the endless, flowing void behind it.
Finally, he gently put the note back in its place and closed the lid of the wooden box.
He picked up the box, walked back to the bedroom, and put it back in its place, as if it were just an insignificant, daily routine episode.
After doing all this, the sunset had mostly sunk into the distant mountains, leaving only a brilliant but short-lived afterglow in the sky, and the light in the room quickly dimmed.
He didn't turn on the light.
He went to the kitchen and didn't prepare a complicated dinner. He simply took out a small bag of oatmeal from the cupboard and brewed it with hot water. He also washed a small head of lettuce, tore it into a few pieces, and put it on the plate without adding any sauce.
He stood in the dim light of the kitchen, slowly finishing his simple, almost bland dinner. He made almost no sound when chewing the oatmeal, but the crisp sound of the lettuce was particularly clear in the overly quiet room.
Wash the dishes and put everything back in its place.
Night fell completely. The city lights once again became the main focus, shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting cold, dancing spots of light on the walls and floor.
Ye Shu stood quietly in the darkness for a moment, then simply washed up and lay down on the floor, just like last night.
Close your eyes.
Breathing becomes long and steady.
The apartment fell into a silence even deeper than the previous night. It was as if Chen Xu's intrusion during the day, the hustle and bustle of the supermarket, the fallen leaves in the park, were all just an insignificant dream.
Only the pot of green ivy on the windowsill, under the intermittent reflection of the neon lights outside the window, the leaves present an unreal, faint green glow.
And in that absolute silence and darkness, something seemed to be brewing extremely slowly and silently. It didn't come from the outside world, but from Ye Shu's seemingly calm inner self.
It is an extremely weak, almost hallucinatory... fluctuation.
Just like the deepest seabed, due to some distant crustal changes, there is a slight vibration that is almost undetectable by instruments.
It has not yet surfaced to form ripples.
But it does exist.
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