Waking of Insects in silence
After the Waking of Insects, the weather didn't immediately warm up, instead plunging into a lingering chill. A drizzle intermittently fell, the air was perpetually damp, and the walls and floor were permeated with a lingering chill, leaving even the breath with a sticky, damp air.
Ye Shu had spent significantly less time sitting by the window these past few days. It wasn't that he was afraid of the cold, but rather that the high humidity in the air had made his already calm mind even more stagnant. Occasionally, he would stretch out his finger and lightly run it across the cold glass, feeling the tiny traces of condensation. Sometimes, he would stare out the window for long periods at the world blurred by rain and fog, his eyes blank, as if in a silent confrontation with the pervasive dampness.
Chen Xu, however, was still full of energy, rushing over as usual. He'd recently become fascinated with flower gardening, a trend he'd supposedly started at work, claiming it could "cultivate one's sentiments and purify the air." That day, he excitedly barged into Ye Shu's apartment, carrying a large cardboard box.
"Yeshu! Look! My new babies are here!" He impatiently placed the cardboard box on the long table and began to unpack. There were several clay pots of various shapes, several bags of nutrient soil, and small bags of green plants in transparent plastic bags of various shapes and sizes—succulents, green ivy, and a pot of something with furry leaves they said was called "netgrass."
Instantly, specks of dirt littered the dry, clean long table, and the air was filled with a raw yet vibrant aroma of plant roots, humus, and plastic. This scent forcefully invaded the apartment's previously cool, constant air, carrying with it an unmistakable vitality.
Ye Shu's gaze returned from the window to the drooping green plants, freshly unwrapped from their packaging. His brows furrowed slightly, as if he had witnessed something too boisterous.
"There's not enough light in the room. The ventilation is poor." He gave an objective evaluation in a flat tone, but it sounded like he was stating a death sentence.
"Oh, it's okay! They're easy to take care of! Just a little water will keep them alive!" Chen Xu was full of confidence and began to clumsily fill the flowerpot with soil. His movements were impulsive, and he spilled more soil, even some of it splashing onto the tray of Ye Shu's plain ceramic teacup next to him.
Ye Shu's gaze fell on the tiny brown soil particles that fell on the edge of the white tray, and he remained silent.
Chen Xu was completely oblivious, chattering away as he busied himself: "Put this pot on your windowsill, this pot on the coffee table, and this small pot on your bookshelf. A little green will make your room lively! ... Oh, why is the soil so scattered..."
He tried to cram a succulent plant into a pot that was too big, and the plant tilted to one side. He fumbled to support it, and his hands got covered in mud.
Ye Shu quietly watched him busy, watching the vibrant chaos spread in his orderly domain. He did not stop, nor did he help, he just watched.
Finally, Chen Xu managed to place all the pots of plants, even though they were crooked and the soil was spilling everywhere. He clapped his hands in satisfaction, admiring his "masterpiece." He looked at Ye Shu's expressionless face and chuckled, "How is it? Does it suddenly come alive?"
Ye Shu's gaze slowly swept across the green plants, finally landing on Chen Xi's muddy fingers.
"The roots are not stable, the soil is too full, and water easily accumulates." He pointed out three technical errors.
Chen Xu's smile froze on his face, and he said sullenly, "...Can't you just say it's pretty?"
"It's good to be alive." Ye Shu gave what he considered a compliment, then stood up and went to the kitchen to get a rag and a small brush. He began to clean the spilled dirt on the table and tray with extreme care, his movements meticulous, as if he were repairing a precious artifact.
Chen Xu looked at him wiping intently, and suddenly felt that the "vitality" he brought seemed so clumsy and offensive in Ye Shu's field of absolute "order".
Over the next few days, Chen Xu came every day to "care" for his treasures. He either overwatered or forgot to water them. The spiderwort was the first to show signs of decline, its leaves turning yellow and wilting.
"What's wrong with it? Is it sick?" Chen Xu asked Ye Shu anxiously.
Ye Shu glanced at it and said: "Too much water will cause the roots to rot."
"Ah? What should we do then?" "Dig it out, dry the roots, and change the soil. Maybe it can survive." Ye Shu's tone sounded like he was talking about an experiment with an extremely low probability.
Chen Xu didn't dare to do it himself, so he looked at Ye Shu for help.
Ye was silent for a moment, then finally put on the disposable gloves the store had given Chen Xu when he bought the flowerpot—he refused to touch the soil directly with his hands—and then carefully removed the spiderwort from the wet soil. His movements were precise and gentle, as he trimmed away the rotten roots, set them aside to dry, and then mixed the soil with a looser texture.
Chen Xu watched with bated breath from the side, feeling that Ye Shu treated this grass countless times more carefully than he treated himself.
After replanting, Ye Shu placed the flowerpot in a corner with better ventilation.
"Look at it yourself," he said, removing his gloves and washing his hands carefully.
The spiderwort ultimately didn't survive. A few days later, it completely withered. Chen Xu was deeply depressed.
But the other plants, under Ye Shu's occasional extreme restraint and almost stingy watering, actually slowly gained a foothold and even began to sprout new buds. The vine of the pot of green ivy quietly stretched out a little, tentatively extending towards the light.
Ye Shu still didn't take the initiative to take care of them, but Chen Xu discovered that when he occasionally forgot to water them, Ye Shu would very naturally use the watering can to collect some remaining water when making tea for him, and sprinkle it very evenly and in small amounts into the flower pots, without wasting a drop outside.
He never touches them, but only provides the most basic resources necessary for survival.
One afternoon, the rain began to fall again, soft and long. Chen Xu curled up on the sofa playing games, while Ye Shu sat by the window, watching the raindrops silently streak across the glass.
Suddenly, Chen Xu sat up straight and pointed at the best-growing succulent plant on the windowsill: "The leaves are sparse! Look! There are bugs!"
I saw several extremely tiny, almost transparent aphids crawling onto the thick leaves of the succulent plant and moving slowly.
Chen Xu was facing a formidable threat: "It's over! It's infested! Will it spread to the other pots? What should I do? Should I buy some spray?"
Ye Shu stood up, walked to the window, and leaned over to carefully observe the insects. His eyes were extremely focused, even with a hint of the caution of a researcher.
"Aphids," he confirmed. "No need for medicine."
"Then what should we do? Should we crush him to death with our hands?" Chen Xu said with disgust.
Ye Shu didn't answer. He turned and left, returning a moment later with a tissue and a toothpick in his hands. With the tip of the toothpick, he delicately pried the tiny aphids off the leaf one by one, catching them on the tissue. His movements were steady and swift, without damaging the leaf at all.
After dealing with the visible ones, he carefully checked the connection between the back of the leaf and the stem to make sure nothing was missed.
"Okay." He threw the tissue wrapped around the insect corpse into the trash can and washed his hands.
Chen Xu was stunned: "...Your technique...is too powerful, isn't it?" It was like a minimally invasive surgery.
"They are just surviving." Ye Shu wiped his hands dry, his tone still calm, as if he had just brushed off a little dust, "It's just that they are in the wrong place."
The rain was still falling, hitting the glass, making a tiny sound.
Chen Xu looked at the pots of green plants sitting safely on the windowsill, then at Ye Shu's silhouette as he sat back down by the window. Within his "territory," those plants stubbornly survived in a very limited, strictly regulated way.
He suddenly realized that Ye Shu didn't dislike life. He simply maintained a certain absolute order and balance in his world, using a method incomprehensible to outsiders. He would allow a hint of greenery, but only in his own way, according to his rules. Any "life" that attempted to disrupt this balance—whether it was an overly turbulent emotion or a few minor pests—would be "dealt with" with his precise and indifferent manner.
This is a kind of...accommodation under extreme restraint.
Chen Xu stopped clamoring for praise or exclamations. He calmed down, picked up his cup of water, and took a sip of the already cold tea.
"Ye Shu," he suddenly asked softly, his voice almost drowned out by the sound of the rain, "Do you think they are... happy?"
Ye Shu's gaze turned from the window to the pot of succulents that had just been cleaned of pests. The thick leaves appeared a moist green in the rain.
"Being alive," he replied after a moment's silence, "is not something to be happy about."
He paused, as if thinking, and added, his voice as soft as a sigh:
"It is enough to grow your own leaves quietly towards the light."
Chen Xu stared at him in amazement, then looked at the plants. They were indeed quietly growing their leaves, following the most primitive rhythm of life in the small but stable space defined by the sparse leaves.
The rain was pattering and the apartment was silent.
Those green lives, like the silent man, are engaging in a silent but firm dialogue about existence in this humid rainy season after the Waking of Insects.
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