Poets and Heroes
After gaining arms, Mi slowly grew a real half-leg and foot. She was no longer an ink doll, nor an air doll wrapped in a thin membrane. Mi smiled as she looked at her newly grown, more freely moving arms and legs: "Now I'm like a turtle."
Since Mi gained arms and hands, she could get more things from the Witch Forest. Whether it was picking a flower or pulling a handful of grass, she learned to braid all sorts of knots from Joe. One day, Mi brought back a smooth brown cane.
"Where did you get this?" El examined the cane. "This isn't a witch's thing."
"From over there, under the tree roots next to the little yellow flower, I almost tripped over what I thought were exposed roots." Since gaining hands and feet, Mi often stumbled and staggered through the Witch's Forest. Walking in the forest with hands and feet felt completely different. The grass was tender, like a soft carpet underfoot, and occasionally, blades of grass that reached past her heels felt like gentle brushes lightly brushing against her ankles, soft and ticklish. Still not quite in control of her balance, Mi often fell. The vines clinging to the giant trees would extend their slender tendrils to help her grab onto, preventing her from actually falling to the ground.
Now, Mi feels that everything in the Witch's Forest is alive—every blade of grass, every tree—cares for her like a mischievous child. Vines stretch out huge purple flowers towards her; Mi climbs into the heart of a flower, and the flower sways gently like a cradle. Mi drifts off to sleep in the indescribable fragrance. Now, Mi can truly feel herself sleeping, like a person. Sometimes, Mi feels that this is a fairytale world, mysterious and gentle.
“Under that tree over there,” Mi pointed in the direction they had just come from, “it’s entangled with the tree roots.”
Elmo examined the cane, which was full of the marks of time: "Perhaps this belongs to the lover of a witch," Elmo said, stroking the cane. "Outsiders cannot enter the Witch Forest, even if they have reached the banks of the River of Lost Souls. This cane can only be brought in by a witch, and the witch's skills are revealed in the witch's headband, not on its own."
"Can't you tell its origin either?" Mi peeked out and examined it closely. The cane was very smooth, as if it had been used as a support just a few days ago, revealing smooth textures. "It doesn't look very old."
“I can’t tell,” El shook his head. “And I’ve never noticed it before. You got it because it chose you, not because you discovered it.” El reached out and pulled out Mi’s witch’s headband. At one end of the headband was a cane that looked like a G clef. “It seems this belonged to a bard, and you’ve gained his power.”
"What ability?" Mi Tan turned around to look.
"It's not clear yet. Maybe it's singing, maybe it's composing, maybe it's writing poetry. You'll have to discover it for yourself."
"Ha, ha, poet!" Mi shook his head and walked away, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.
“She doesn’t believe you.” Joe watched Mi’s departing figure.
“She just doesn’t understand how talent can be transferred,” El said, looking at the cane Mi left behind. “Maybe Mi always had this talent, but she just didn’t know it.”
“Some people are just born with innate knowledge,” Joe sighed. “Were there no child prodigies in their time?”
“Some people’s talents are obvious and outstanding, some people’s talents are like a veil covering them, and some people’s talents are buried deep.” El said softly, “The Witch Forest will peel away this veil covering talents and dig out the dust that buries them. Besides, even if she has this talent, she still has to figure out the way and means to use it herself. There are so many talented people, how many of them can shine on their own?”
“Mi doesn’t look like a little girl.” Qiao frowned her delicate brows.
“That’s what I find strange too. Most of the people in the Witch Forest are young, and it’s rare to see someone as young as Mi. Mi is more like an elder in the forest, but she found the guiding stone. The elders don’t want to find the guiding stone at all; they treat this place as a refuge.” El watched Mi’s wandering figure. “Most people who reach Mi’s age either accept their fate or acquiesce to the rules of the world. You can’t fight with yourself your whole life. Some people remain like children even when they’re old because someone is carrying the burden for them. At Mi’s age, she is still full of curiosity and exploration about the world. She is like an observer, yet she is also an active participant in the world—a very contradictory combination.”
"How did this cane get smuggled in? It should have been hidden in a witch's hairband." Joe also looked down and examined the cane.
“Supposedly, this is all there is,” El said, looking around at the forest he had seen a thousand times before. “I’ve never seen anything outside of it. This is the change brought about by Mi.” Unlike any witch before her, Mi not only caused a violent upheaval in her sea of consciousness, but also discovered something that was almost impossible to appear in the Witch Forest.
"Do you think Mi will find something else?" Joe asked curiously, peering at Mi's departing figure.
“I don’t know, I don’t even know if it’s a good sign or a bad omen.” Al pulled Joe up to the treetop. The light gray clouds above the forest were still thick and slowly moving, hardly showing any trace of the turmoil that had occurred before. “Joe, sometimes I feel like what I saw that day was an illusion.”
"El, Milian Wu doesn't understand anything. How come her head is full of so many inexplicable ideas?"
“Joe, Mi is just gathering as much information as possible. Everything she says comes from different sources, and she uses this information to lock herself behind high walls. She’s very uneasy.”
Will the Witch Forest change because of rice?
"I don't know either. The Witchwood is becoming a desolate forest." El said, bewildered. "Maybe one day the Witchwood will no longer exist."
"El, I will always be with you," Joe whispered, snuggling close to El.
“Okay, okay, I’ll be with you too.” El murmured to himself, “Joe, you’re still young and believe in forever, while I’m already old and only live in the present.”
Joe frowned, looked up at El, and said firmly, "El, a gentleman's promise is heavier than Mount Tai."
"Okay." Al gently kissed the tip of Joe's hair, slowly enveloping Joe.
"El, it's daytime now~" Joe mumbled in response to El's kiss.
* * *
Mi, having handed the cane to El, continued searching through the forest, hoping to find something else. At that moment, Mi noticed a change in the Witch Forest. Mi straightened up, and something indescribable passed through his ears. The once silent forest now possessed a desolate feel, like the sandstorms of a desert, like an ancient starry river.
A gentle wind from beyond the desert stirred up dust, spreading far and wide like a thin layer of smoke. The white sky turned gray, revealing indistinct black shadows and the melodious sound of camel bells in the sand. The sun, as bright as an incandescent bulb, gradually slanted westward, turning the blood-red desert into a battlefield after a fierce battle, leaving only the lonely figures of heroes stretched long by the setting sun. Night fell, the Milky Way shimmered, and the desolate daylight gave way to mysterious darkness. The moon had vanished, leaving only countless stars twinkling, outlining a distant and constant star map, with the faint sound of camel bells still drifting by.
Mi stood quietly, carefully searching for the direction of the sound. The more she tried, the quieter it became. The vague figure disappeared, and the desert and the starry river vanished without a trace, as if it had all been a hallucination. When Mi gave up the search and fell asleep inside a dormant flower, the faint sound of camel bells rose again. A campfire appeared in the desert night. The wounds of the hero who had fought hard during the day had been bandaged, and two lonely figures sat facing each other by the fire.
"Who are you?" Mi asked himself silently.
The fire gradually died down, the morning star rose in the east, the heavy darkness faded, and two figures walked side by side in the dawn. In the distance were tall city walls, with a corner of a castle's eaves peeking out from above, and pedestrians coming and going below.
Armored gatekeepers, farmers carrying loads, and merchants driving carts gathered in the open space before the city gate. Further away in the market, dancing girls, snake charmers, flute players, and magicians performing tricks in hats filled the air. A large space stood beside the hero carrying a sword, where a man with a cane softly chanted—"Cane." Mi squinted, cautiously observing the scene. The hero's face was hidden in his hood, and the man with the cane had eyes of an indeterminate color. His thin lips softly sang the hero's story, drawing the market's crowd to linger. The cane was exactly the same as the one Mi had found under the tree, even down to a small, recessed hole on the armrest.
After the song ended, coins littered the ground in front of the man. A soft-hearted woman lifted her skirt to wipe away her tears. The tall man took off his hat and bowed slightly to the hero. A lively child rested his chin on his hand and craned his neck to look at the hero behind the man.
The man with the cane picked up the coin and led the hero to the pharmacy. The pharmacist, with a face as weathered as an orange peel, examined the hero's wound and took out two packets of herbs. The hero watched as the man lit a fire, placed an earthenware pot on it, and began decocting the medicine. He sat down and asked, "Why have you been following me?"
"Those who carry firewood for the masses should not be allowed to freeze to death in the wind and snow; those who fight for the people should not be allowed to be buried in the dust."
"I don't care about that."
"I care, and those who come after me care."
The scenes that follow become increasingly simple: the hero is constantly injured, and the man with the crutch tirelessly bandages his wounds and prepares medicine. The two of them travel through city after city, village after village. The hero presents his severed head to the ruler in exchange for a reward, tossing the bag to the man who has been following him without even opening it.
The hero traveled more and more roads, the man with the cane sang longer and longer, and the hero's story was sung more and more widely. The impatient hero left, but the man with the cane followed persistently, even though the hero was old and could no longer wield a sword. The man went to the blacksmith's shop and forged a smaller, more convenient dagger for the hero. The hero accepted the dagger as easily as receiving medicine from the man, tucking it into the most convenient spot at his waist. The man with the cane grew older and older, and the tunes he sang became shorter and shorter, like the setting sun about to disappear.
Finally, in a forest, the man with the cane collapsed. For the first time, the hero stopped and looked at the man who had been following him. As the hero turned around, the man gave him a final smile, handed him his cane, and a tear slid down the hero's cheek.
The hero buried the man, pondered for a long time, then concealed the dagger tucked at his waist in his sleeve, and the bard's cane at his side, setting off alone. In the shifting light and shadow, the hero appeared and departed alone; afterwards, no one followed him on his long journey, stubbornly chanting his story in every town and village he visited. After exchanging his earnings for a reward, the hero would hold his money bag for a long, dejected time, until he fell asleep within a giant purple flower. A cane slowly slid from the petals, falling into the grass beneath the tree, followed by a dark dagger. The dormant flower never opened again.
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