Container of Time
That promise, "The scale exists only for you," was like a warm, smooth jade stone thrown into the lake of their hearts. It didn't stir up any turbulent waves, but instead made the lake's texture deeper and clearer. The days continued to move steadily forward with the ticking of time, but the tacit understanding that permeated the air was more inseparable than ever before.
The scorching July sun beat down, even making the plane trees in Anping Lane look somewhat wilted. Inside the shop, however, thanks to the protection of the thick walls and old tiles, a rare coolness was maintained. That day, Lu Shixu took out an object wrapped tightly in soft cloth from the bottom of an old wooden box in the storage room.
He gently placed it on the workbench and peeled back the layers of packaging. What was revealed was an exquisitely designed tortoiseshell travel clock. The clock was small, yet heavy, the tortoiseshell's patterns shimmering with a warm luster under the light. The dial was an elegant milky white, paired with slender black hands. Most notably, it featured a small glass door, allowing a view of the intricate internal movement.
“This is…” Lin Zhiyi leaned closer curiously.
“One of my grandmother’s dowry items.” Lu Shixu’s gaze fell on the travel clock, with an almost tender nostalgia. “It is said that she brought this clock with her when she married into the family in Beijing from Jiangnan. It followed her from her parents’ home to her extended family, recording the most important journey of her life.”
His fingertips gently brushed across the smooth tortoiseshell shell, his voice calm: "Later it was passed down to my mother, and after she passed away, I kept it. But it's been sitting there for a long time, and I... haven't dared to touch it."
Lin Zhiyi instantly understood the weight behind this "dare not". This is not just a clock, but a time ark carrying family memories and emotions. Restoring it means touching those long-forgotten memories that may have been accompanied by laughter and tears.
She stood quietly beside him, not uttering a sound to disturb him, but conveying silent support through her gaze.
Lu Shixu stared silently at the travel clock for a long time, as if engaging in a silent dialogue, seeking the consent of the past. Finally, he took a deep breath and took out his tools.
This restoration was unlike any before. His movements remained steady and precise, but the pace was slower, imbued with an almost reverent solemnity. Each screw tightened, each dust removed, was like carefully brushing away the dust of time, as if afraid to disturb the soul slumbering within.
Lin Zhiyi didn't read or work as usual; she simply sat beside him, silently keeping him company. She watched his focused profile, and the occasional slight emotion in his eyes as he noticed a unique design or a trace of time. She seemed to see through his movements how this gentle, never-before-seen woman from Jiangnan, filled with hope for the future, carefully wrapped the clock, leading it into a brand new journey in life.
When the last gear was calibrated and the hairspring was adjusted to the optimal tension, Lu Shixu used that special little key, which also bore the marks of time, to wind up the travel clock.
He gently pushed the balance wheel.
"Tick-tock..."
A crisp, clear chime suddenly rang out in the quiet shop. Unlike the deep, resonant sound of the other old clocks in the shop, this sound was lighter and more melodious, like the soft, gentle voice of the Wu dialect in Jiangnan, carrying a tenderness that transcends time and space.
The hands of the travel clock, which had been stationary for who knows how many years, began to move again.
Lu Shixu did not immediately let go. He listened quietly to the rhythmic ticking sound, his eyes filled with complex emotions: reminiscence, relief, and a sense of peace after completing an important mission.
Lin Zhiyi walked to his side and asked softly, "Will it... remember the way it used to take?"
Lu Shixu turned to look at her, the complex emotions in his eyes gradually settling into a clear, gentle tenderness. He shook his head, his voice low and firm:
"Won't."
He reached out and gently took her hand, his gaze returning to the travel clock that had been brought back to life.
"Its duty is not to remember the past. Rather, it is to begin recording... our new time, from the moment it is repaired."
His words were like a key, instantly unlocking the myriad tender emotions within Lin Zhiyi's heart. She gazed at the travel clock, spanning two generations and now reborn in their hands, and at the man beside her who imbued his fingertips with profound love and time itself. Suddenly, she understood—
They are also becoming containers of each other's time.
It carries the tranquility of the past, bears the deep love of the present, and points to the infinitely possible future they will write together.
The room was filled with the symphony of bells, some old and some new.
And this travel clock, which has just joined the chorus, seems to be softly singing an eternal ballad about inheritance and rebirth, about love and time, with its clear and unique voice.
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