The leaves are still sparse
The days flowed silently like sand through fingers. The storm seemed to have finally passed.
The obscenities on the internet vanished completely, like sand paintings smoothed by the tide. No more strange, prying eyes, no more parked black cars, no more strange noises outside the door late at night. Chen Xu's life gradually returned to normal. Although he still occasionally woke from nightmares in a cold sweat, the sunlight of daylight always dispelled most of the remaining fear.
He still came to Ye Shu's apartment, even more frequently than before the storm. But some things were different after all.
He no longer tried to fill the silence with noise and bustle, nor did he easily pour out his anxieties and complaints. He became quieter, imitating Ye Shu's behavior, occasionally staring blankly at the drifting clouds outside the window, or simply sitting in silence for half an afternoon with a cup of Ye Shu's plain wild tea.
The look in his eyes when he looked at Ye Shu was filled with a subtle awe, as well as a deeper dependence, a mixture of gratitude and confusion. He no longer asked questions that had no answers, but simply said over and over again as if to confirm, "Ye Shu, that night... thank you so much."
Ye Shu's reactions were always indifferent. Sometimes it was a slight nod, sometimes a silence as if he hadn't heard, and at most a single sentence: "The tea's cold."
It seemed as if that thrilling night was just a speck of dust brushed away by him.
As spring deepened and summer began to fade, the sun became increasingly generous, streaming through the huge French windows, almost scorching the room. Ye Shu moved his usual seat, avoiding the harshest afternoon sunlight and choosing a small, shady spot near the bookshelf.
Chen Xu sat cross-legged on the floor across from him, clutching a new handheld game console. His fingers flicked rapidly, the screen's light reflected on his focused face, emitting a shimmering electronic sound effect. He'd recently become obsessed with it and was trying to convince Ye Shu, "Seriously, try it! It's incredibly stress-relieving! It's like... like meditation!" He tried to connect the game to Ye Shu's worldview.
Ye Shu's gaze drifted from the window to the small, flickering screen, and he stared at it for a few seconds. A pixelated hero was slashing at pixelated monsters, the special effects gorgeous and the pace blistering.
"Noise," he commented, without disgust in his tone, just stating a fact flatly, like saying "It's raining."
Chen Xu's hand froze, his movements slowing. Then, frustrated, he pressed the pause button. The screen froze on a dazzling skill release. "...Compared to you, everything is just noise," he muttered softly, a hint of helplessness, but not unconvinced.
Ye Shu stopped looking at him and turned his gaze to a small, almost forgotten pot of green radish in the shadow of the bookshelf, its leaves slightly wilted. He stared at it for a moment, then stood up, went to the kitchen to get a glass of water, and returned, very slowly and evenly pouring the water into the dry soil. The water seeped in, making a subtle sizzling sound.
Chen Xu watched him finish all this and suddenly asked, "Ye Shu, do you think... we are quite noisy? I mean... everyone."
Ye Shu put the water cup back, sat down again, and his eyes fell on the leaves of the green radish that had stretched a little due to absorbing water.
"Sound is a form of existence," he said calmly, "but some frequencies, if heard for a long time, will cover up other frequencies."
"Cover what?" Chen Xu asked.
Ye Shu was silent for a moment, as if searching for the right words. His fingertips unconsciously traced a very short arc on the slightly cool floor.
"...the echo of silence," he said finally, his voice so soft it was a sigh.
Chen Xu seemed to understand, but he didn't ask any more questions. He put down his handheld game console and, imitating Ye Shu's behavior, simply stared at the pot of green ivy that had been well-watered, watching the path of sunlight moving across the floor.
The only sounds in the room were the low hum of the air conditioner and the two people's gentle breathing.
After sitting for a while, Chen Xu stood up and said goodbye. When he reached the door, he said habitually, "I'll come back tomorrow."
Ye Shu didn't respond with "yes" or "no", but when he opened the door, he suddenly said very softly: "On the way, southeast, the clouds are thick, there may be heavy rain."
Chen Xu paused for a moment, then glanced out the window. A few thick white clouds were indeed gathering in the southeast sky, but they were still far away, and the sun was still fierce. "Oh... okay, I'll bring an umbrella," he replied, a strange warmth swirl through his heart. This was Ye Shu's kind of concern, indifferent, precise, and devoid of any emotion, yet more reassuring than any earnest exhortation.
The door closed gently.
Ye Shu was the only one left in the apartment again.
He did not return to his original position immediately, but walked to the window, watched Chen Xu's figure appear downstairs, looked up at the sky in the southeast, and then walked quickly towards the subway station.
He didn't look away until the figure merged into the crowd and disappeared.
The setting sun stretched his shadow long enough in the room. He stood alone for a long time.
A hint of Chen Xu's youthful restlessness lingered in the air, a mingled scent of electronic gaming consoles and a hint of sweat. It was faint, yet real.
He did not immediately erase these "traces" as usual.
He simply stood there, taking in the silence that had returned to his absolute control. That silence was still vast and bottomless, the realm he was most familiar with and most comfortable with.
But for some reason, deep in the silence tonight, there seemed to be an extremely tiny, almost imperceptible...difference.
Not broken, nor filled.
It's more like a tiny, warm speck of dust falling on a boundless ice field. It fails to melt the ice and snow, and is even invisible to the naked eye, yet it persists in a nearly eternal way.
He slowly raised his hand and lightly touched the corner of his lips with his fingertips.
There, there is no arc.
But his eyes seemed to soften for a moment as the sun sank below the horizon, like a faint, negligible, geological warmth emanating from the depths of the permafrost.
He turned around and began to prepare his daily, extremely simple dinner.
The movements are still slow, precise and meticulous.
Outside the window, the city lights are bright and the nightlife is bustling. Countless stories are happening at the same time, and countless destinies are intertwining and colliding.
In this empty and quiet apartment, time seems to have stopped, yet it also seems to be flowing eternally in another way.
Ye Shu is still distant and indifferent. He sees through the world without fighting or competing.
He never changed the world, and the world never really changed him.
The silent sea called "Yeshu" is still deep and boundless.
But at the deepest bottom of the sea, perhaps, there really is a tiny speck of dust called "bond".
It is light and quiet.
But it exists.
——End of the full text——
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