When Ayu pushed open the creaking wooden door of the old tailor shop, a scent of camphor, old fabric, and the dust of time wafted out. Sunlight streamed through the dusty glass windows, casting dappled patterns of light on the floor and illuminating the tiny particles dancing in the air. This shop belonged to Old Chen, the tailor at the end of the alley. He had no children and had recently passed away. Before he died, he asked Ayu to help him tidy up, organize what was still usable, and get rid of what needed to be disposed of.
Ayu was a kind-hearted person and had an inexplicable affection for these old objects, so she readily agreed. The shop wasn't big, but it was piled high with things. The sewing machine was an old-fashioned "Bee" brand, the paint peeling but still exuding a sturdy feel. On the wooden shelves against the wall, layers upon layers of fabrics of various colors were stacked, from brand-new Dacron to worn-out coarse cloth, everything was available, like thick albums of bygone years.
The task was no small feat, so Ayu rolled up her sleeves and began by cleaning up the pile of scraps of cloth on the floor. These scraps were leftover pieces from Old Chen the tailor's work, varying in color and texture, accumulated over countless years, forming a thick carpet on the floor like a messy yet warm rug. She picked them up one by one, sorting them, folding the slightly larger pieces to give to neighbors who needed them, and planning to either tie the smaller pieces into mops or throw them away.
Fingertips darted between soft and rough fabrics, and time slipped by unnoticed. The afternoon sun gradually slanted westward, bathing the shop in a warm golden light. Ayu squatted on the ground, her knees a little numb. She straightened up, rubbed her lower back, and glanced at the remaining pile of scraps of cloth, thinking that with a little more effort, she could try to clear out half of it today.
Just then, her hand touched something hard. Unlike the softness of fabric, it had a cool, hard feel and a unique smoothness. Curious, Ayu parted the surrounding fabric, revealing a button.
It was a seashell button, not very large, about the size of a fingernail, a pale off-white color, with a warm luster on its surface, as if carefully polished by time. The most peculiar thing was that at the buttonhole, there was a thin circle of blue silk thread, the color of which was very pure, a kind of calm sapphire blue.
Ayu picked up the button and examined it against the light. Shell buttons weren't uncommon, but this one seemed different. Her gaze fell on the blue silk thread, and her fingers unconsciously twirled it. In that instant, her heart skipped a beat.
The pattern of this twisted thread... why does it look so familiar?
She frowned, trying to search her memory. Suddenly, a scene appeared clearly in her mind—it was a scene she had seen in a tie-dye workshop during her trip to Dali last year. The blue and white fabric in the old craftsman's hands was slowly unfolded, and the naturally formed white patterns on it, like ice cracks, flowing water, and clouds, were called "ice crack patterns" by the locals, which is the most unique and rarest effect in tie-dyeing.
The twisted patterns on the blue silk thread before my eyes are exactly the same as the direction of the ice crack pattern, and that natural and rhythmic broken feeling! It's as if someone used silk thread to replicate a piece of tie-dyed cloth from Dali in this small buttonhole.
"Ayu, I'm here to help you." A voice came from the doorway.
Ayu looked up and saw her neighbor, Zhong Hua. Zhong Hua was a young man who was very interested in all kinds of old objects and quirky gadgets. Hearing that Ayu was cleaning up the old tailor shop, he offered to lend a hand.
“Perfect timing, come and look at this.” Ayu handed the seashell button to Zhong Hua. “I found this in a scrap of cloth. Look at the blue thread in the buttonhole, doesn’t the pattern resemble the crackle pattern of Dali tie-dye?”
Zhong Hua took the button, also quite interested. He pulled a small magnifying glass from his backpack—it was his habit to examine small things closely with a magnifying glass. "Really? Let me see."
He raised the magnifying glass and brought it close to the circle of blue silk thread. Sure enough, the texture of the twisted thread was delicate and unique, truly resembling the crackle pattern of Dali tie-dye. Zhong Hua clicked his tongue in amazement, then turned his gaze to the seashell button itself. "The seashell material is also quite nice; it doesn't seem to be a common conch shell, but more like... some kind of freshwater molluskine?"
He adjusted the angle of the magnifying glass, carefully observing the texture on the shell's surface. The growth lines of the shell, ring after ring, were clearly visible, the rings of time left on it.
"Huh?" Zhong Hua suddenly let out a soft exclamation, his brows furrowing slightly as his gaze became focused. He held the magnifying glass and moved it slowly, as if searching for something on the surface of the seashell.
Ayu watched from the side, somewhat curious: "What's wrong? Did you see something?"
Zhong Hua didn't answer immediately. He took the button, changed its position, and let the light shine better on the shell. After a while, he looked up, a look of disbelief on his face: "Ayu, look, the growth lines on this shell... the pattern they form seems a little familiar."
He handed the button to Ayu, gesturing for her to look at it with the magnifying glass as well. "Look along this main pattern, doesn't it resemble the shape of an island? And these radiating lines around it, don't they look like lake water?"
Ayu took the magnifying glass and carefully observed the shell as Zhong Hua had instructed. At first, she only saw dense growth lines, but as her gaze focused and her imagination took hold, the lines seemed to come alive. In the upper center of the shell, a ring of relatively thick growth lines outlined an irregular shape, somewhat like a bird spreading its wings, surrounded by fine, outward-spreading patterns.
"This...this could be..." Ayu's heart raced, and a thought popped into her mind, "Qinghai Lake? Bird Island?" She had been to Qinghai Lake and seen aerial photos of Bird Island. Its shape, its posture in the lake, and the pattern on the seashell in front of her were strikingly similar! Although the proportions were different, the essence of the outline was almost identical.
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