Gear bookmark
Two days later, Lin Zhiyi stepped into Anping Lane again.
This time, she deliberately avoided the weekend crowds and chose a Tuesday afternoon. The sunlight was just right, warmly shining on the gray brick wall, and the shadow of the old locust tree at the alley entrance was stretched long and slanted. It was so quiet that she could hear her own footsteps.
She carried a paper bag containing two carefully selected picture books about traditional crafts. It served as a pretext for another visit, but also carried an unspoken expression of gratitude—for the unique gear bookmark.
The door to "Time Sequence" was still ajar. She gently pushed it open, and that familiar creaking sound rang out again, like a key unlocking another dimension.
Lu Shixu was not sleeping.
He sat at his workbench, his back to the door, slightly hunched, completely absorbed. The desk lamp was on, and beneath the magnifying glass was the intricate movement of a Western clock. The tiny tools seemed to come alive in his fingertips as he carefully turned and adjusted the brass gears. The air was thick with the mingled smells of machine oil and old wood, and the dormant clocks stood like silent spectators.
Lin Zhiyi didn't immediately disturb him. She stood in the shadows by the doorway, quietly watching his back. His movements were fluid and steady, as if he were lost in his own world. This sight held an even stronger, more strange attraction for her than the last time he had been asleep.
"Please wait a moment." Lu Shixu didn't turn around, his voice came calmly, and his hands didn't stop moving. "This escape wheel is a bit temperamental, it needs to be calmed down."
He actually knew someone had come in. Perhaps it was the sound of the door opening, or perhaps it was some kind of superhuman perception he possessed.
Lin Zhiyi did as instructed, tiptoeing to the side, her gaze falling on an exquisitely crafted enamel pocket watch encased in a glass case.
“It’s alright, you go ahead with your work.” She replied softly, as if afraid of disturbing his “dialogue” with time.
About five or six minutes later, Lu Shixu gently put down his tools, turned off the desk lamp, and then turned around. Today he was wearing a dark blue work apron, which made his complexion appear even whiter. The weariness seemed to have faded a bit, and his eyes were still clear, carrying the lingering warmth of his focused work.
“Editor Lin.” He recognized her and nodded slightly.
"Just call me Zhiyi." Lin Zhiyi stepped forward and placed the paper bag in the corner of the workbench. "Sorry to bother you again. I brought some books about traditional crafts, thinking you might be interested."
Lu Shixu's gaze lingered on the paper bag for a moment before he looked at her and said, "Thank you, you're too kind."
"I should be thanking you." Lin Zhiyi took out a small, transparent plastic resealable bag from her handbag, inside which was the gear bookmark. The blue steel screw gleamed faintly in the dim light. "I really like this. It's very special."
Seeing how carefully she kept this little gift, a faint, almost imperceptible warmth seemed to flash across Lu Shixu's eyes.
"Just some discarded parts, nothing worth mentioning." His tone remained indifferent.
“But it carries time and sentiment, which makes it precious,” Lin Zhiyi said earnestly. She paused, her gaze falling on the clock movement he had just “soothed”. “Did I interrupt your work?”
"No, it's just come to an end." He took off his magnifying glass, rubbed his temples, and said, "Have a seat."
There were two old wooden armchairs next to the workbench, and Lin Zhiyi sat down as instructed. Lu Shixu poured her a glass of warm water; the glass was a simple white porcelain one, warm to the touch.
“You mentioned last time that you were working on a book about traditional crafts?” He pulled out another chair and sat down diagonally opposite her, at a comfortable social distance.
“Hmm.” Lin Zhiyi held her water glass, organizing her thoughts. “It’s a collection of books about crafts that are on the verge of being lost, and I was in charge of one of the chapters. So… I wanted to learn more about it. For example, the watch repair you do, in my opinion, is a kind of magic that allows you to communicate with time.”
“Magic?” Lu Shixu repeated the word softly, a slight smile playing on his lips. “Not really. More like a compromise and negotiation.”
"Compromise and negotiation?"
“Hmm.” He picked up a small, rusty gear from the workbench and turned it gently between his fingers. “Time itself is merciless; it only moves forward. But these clocks, trying to capture and record time, are themselves going against the current. That’s why they break down and stop.”
His voice was deep and steady, as if he were recounting an ancient truth.
"My job is to understand the original intentions behind their design, find out why they failed in the fight against the tide of time, and then negotiate with them to help them make some necessary compromises and repairs so that they can continue to move forward in another way."
Lin Zhiyi listened intently. She had never heard anyone interpret a repair job from this perspective before. It wasn't just about technology; it was more like a philosophy.
"Then... to 'negotiate' with them, you need to understand their language, right?" she asked curiously.
“You could say that.” Lu Shixu looked at her, a hint of inquiry in his eyes. “Their language is the logic of machinery, the meshing of gears, the oscillation of a hairspring. You need to listen and observe patiently.”
He casually picked up a pair of slender tweezers and pointed to a part of the movement: "For example, here, if the gear ratio of this gear train is slightly off, it will affect the overall timekeeping accuracy. You have to 'listen' to the subtle noises it makes when it's running and 'look' at the wear marks to know what it 'wants' to tell you."
He used the simplest language to unveil a corner of a mysterious world for her. Lin Zhiyi discovered that when he talked about clocks, his aloofness lessened, and he seemed to be enveloped in a focused and gentle halo.
She also shared some interesting and frustrating stories from her work, such as how to communicate with stubborn authors and how to find a balance between market pressure and content quality.
“Words have their own temperament,” Lin Zhiyi said with a smile. “Sometimes a paragraph just doesn’t feel right no matter how you revise it, like a stuck gear. You need to find that key point and give it a gentle push, and it will go smoothly.”
This analogy made Lu Shixu nod in agreement.
Sunlight streamed through the window, casting dappled shadows between the two. The ticking of the clock, the occasional clinking of tools, and their intermittent conversation blended together to create a tranquil and harmonious atmosphere.
Time seems to stretch out here.
Before I knew it, the sky outside the window began to show the golden edge of the setting sun.
Lin Zhiyi realized she had lingered for too long and stood up somewhat embarrassed: "I should go now. I've learned a lot today, thank you... Master Lu."
Upon hearing this address, Lu Shixu paused slightly before replying, "Just call me Shixu."
“Chronology.” Lin Zhiyi readily agreed, the name rolling lightly on her tongue with a strange rhythm. She pointed to the books on the workbench, “Those two books, I hope you don’t find them too simplistic.”
"No, thank you." He stood up to see her off.
As they reached the door, Lin Zhiyi suddenly remembered something and turned back to ask, "By the way, the desserts at 'Shiguang Cafe' at the alley entrance seem pretty good. Have you tried them?"
Lu Shixu's eyes seemed to flicker slightly, but his tone remained unchanged: "Is it Shen Bei's shop? I've heard of it, but I've never been there."
"Chen Bei?"
“The coffee shop owner,” he explained simply, “is also from this street.”
"Oh." Lin Zhiyi nodded and noted the information down. She smiled and said goodbye, "I'll be going now, see you next time."
"See you next time."
Stepping out of the shop, the evening breeze carried a slight chill on her face, yet Lin Zhiyi felt a warmth spread through her heart. She turned back and glanced once more at the rooftop cat figurine. This time, she felt as if the cat's silent mouth also held the lingering warmth of the setting sun.
Inside the shop, Lu Shixu didn't immediately return to his workbench. He walked to the window and watched the figure in the beige trench coat gradually disappear around the corner of the alley until it was out of sight.
He looked down at his hands. Long and steady—the hands of a restorer.
However, in that deepest, most stable place, a subtle, physiological tremor, perceptible only to himself, was lurking at the nerve endings.
He gently clenched his fingers, shutting out the invisible tremor.
Outside the window, dusk began to settle in.
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