As dawn broke, the dust in the attic was illuminated in minute detail, as if urging something on.
Lin Yi went downstairs as usual, pushed open the door, and was greeted by an eager light that made him squint slightly.
He walked towards the breakfast stall at the alley entrance, his steps unhurried.
The proprietress was busy serving customers when she caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye. She immediately turned around and took out a tray covered with a white porcelain bowl from next to the steamer.
The bowl contained warm soy milk, and next to it were two vegetable buns wrapped in oil paper, and a plate of freshly cut pickled cucumbers that looked glistening and delicious.
Everything was exactly as he always had, but he didn't come at all yesterday.
"Boss lady, yesterday..." Lin Yi was about to explain when he saw a very thin ray of light gently tapping on the window frame through the condensed glass of the small kitchen window behind the boss lady.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Three taps, neither too light nor too heavy, the rhythm perfectly matching the sound of his footsteps as he stepped onto the first step.
Lin Yi's heart skipped a beat, and he instantly understood.
It wasn't that the landlady had a good memory, nor was it a coincidence.
It was the "Light Path"—this strange life form that covered the entire old town—that sensed his absence last night and "pre-ordered" this breakfast for him this morning.
He took the tray, the heat spreading from his fingertips. He said softly, "Thank you."
The proprietress waved her hand generously and said in a loud voice, "Why thank me? It was Grandma Chen who specifically told me that you must have been caught in the rain last night and are feeling weak, so you need to eat something hot to warm your stomach."
Lin Yi didn't ask any more questions.
On his way home, he inexplicably deviated from his usual main road and instead turned into a damp alleyway that he had never been before, squeezed between high walls on both sides, leaving only a narrow slit between the walls.
He wondered if, when he deviated from the fixed "track," that omnipresent perception would still follow.
Deep in the alley, the bluestone pavement is covered with slippery moss because it has never seen sunlight.
Just as he was halfway there, the three blue bricks under his feet suddenly emitted a faint, almost imperceptible light.
Immediately afterwards, several strands of silvery-white mycelium, finer than a strand of hair, emerged from the cracks in the brickwork at the corner of the wall and lightly touched the soles of his shoes, which were about to touch the ground, three times.
Three more taps.
That familiar rhythm was like a silent greeting.
The mycelium retracted immediately upon contact, retreating back into the crack in the wall.
Lin Yi stopped and looked down, only to find that less than half a meter ahead, the edge of the iron cover of a drainage ditch was loose and curled up, enough to trip any careless pedestrian.
At this moment, the retreating mycelium is quietly spreading from under the cover, like countless tiny hands, tightly wrapping around the loose edge and fixing it back to the ground.
He crouched down and tentatively extended his finger.
As if sensing something, the mycelium spontaneously separated a strand and gently wrapped around his fingertip, transmitting an extremely slight, high-frequency vibration.
It wasn't language, yet it was clearer than any language—"Be careful."
Lin Yi's heart suddenly warmed, but his face remained calm and composed.
He withdrew his hand, stood up silently, looked around, and then used his toe to precisely kick a piece of gravel stuck at the base of the wall into the gap of the drainage ditch cover, helping it fit more securely.
This was his answer. Silent, yet equally clear.
Meanwhile, at the other end of the old town, Granny Chen was leaning on her cane, inspecting the pebbled path she was responsible for looking after.
She stopped in front of a clump of wallflowers. The soil around the base of the flowers showed signs of being dug up, indicating that a wild cat had "attacked" the area the night before.
She sighed and was about to bend down to straighten the loose flower stalk when a sudden change occurred.
Dozens of shiny mycelia emerge from the soil around the flower plant, automatically wrapping around the fragile flower stem, like an ingenious support, gently lifting it up.
At the same time, a drop of dew, the size of a longan and shimmering with silver light, slowly seeped from the ground beside him and dripped precisely into the deep pit left by the wild cat's paw print.
Grandma Chen watched in amazement and decided to stand aside and stop interfering.
A moment later, a plump orange and white cat strolled leisurely from the alley entrance, walked straight to the flower bushes, and licked the drop of silver dew clean.
Then, as if guided by some silent force, it used its front paws to gently pull the loose soil it had dug out back to the base of the plant, and finally even used its furry tail to smooth the ground.
Having done all this, it turned around contentedly and disappeared into the depths of the alley.
"Ha," Granny Chen couldn't help but laugh out loud at the unbelievable scene before her. "Now, even cats have become 'waterers'?"
As the days went by, the presence of "light path" became stronger and stronger, and it became more and more proactive.
One late night, Lin Yi dragged his tired body back to the attic. As he went upstairs, he noticed that one of the connection points of the wooden stair railing leading to the bedroom was slightly wobbling.
He thought to himself that he would have to find a carpenter to fix it tomorrow.
Just as he turned to go wash up, he caught a glimpse of an inconspicuous pot of weeds on the windowsill, the silver veins on its leaves shimmering slightly.
Immediately afterwards, several strands of light, as solid as optical fibers, emerged from the soil in the flowerpot, silently crawled along the base of the wall, and precisely reached the loose spot on the stair railing, wrapping around it layer by layer to form a temporary yet sturdy external support.
Lin Yi stopped in his tracks.
He didn't disturb their work; instead, before going to bed, he quietly placed a glass of warm water on the landing at the corner of the stairs.
The next morning, when he went downstairs, the glass of water was empty.
At the bottom of the cup, several dried mycelia arranged two clear characters: "Repaired."
He reached out and gripped the handrail, and sure enough, it had regained its original stability and fit perfectly.
He gently stroked the warm cup with his fingertips, a complex and indescribable emotion welling up inside him.
They... no longer merely respond and remind, nor even wait for his "instructions".
They began to proactively identify problems, and took action first.
This change instilled a sense of unease and awe in all those who were "watering the plants."
A few days later, Granny Chen gathered several core members, including Lin Yi, to discuss matters in front of the central open platform in the ruins park.
Grandma Chen suggested that a fixed ritual should be established in order to better communicate with the "light path".
For example, following ancient customs, every morning, each person places an upside-down empty bowl in their assigned area, symbolizing acceptance and listening.
As everyone was discussing the feasibility of the proposal in hushed tones, suddenly, the ground beneath their feet shone brightly.
Countless beams of light converged from all directions, automatically forming a powerful and vigorous character in the center of the empty platform:
"No need to set out the bowls, just show your heart."
The writing only lingered for a few seconds before disintegrating into countless specks of light and quietly disappearing.
Where the writing had just appeared, an unprecedentedly large wall-spoken flower broke through the soil and bloomed in the wind.
Its petals are like the purest crystal, with the reflections of all those present clearly visible on the inside. Each person's image is layered upon layered, eventually merging together, like a flowing group portrait.
Everyone fell silent.
They gazed at the "us" formed by them within the petals for a long time, then silently put away the empty bowls they had brought, simply reaching out and gently patting each other's shoulders.
The ritual is indeed no longer needed.
A few days later, while sorting through his mother's belongings, Lin Yi came across the rusty tin box.
He took out the last piece of paper that hadn't been torn up; it was something he had kept for himself to use in his conversations with his mother.
He picked up the pen, hovered it over the paper, and tried to write "Today I...", but felt that the pen tip was as heavy as a thousand pounds, and he couldn't write a single word.
Those surging emotions, those wounds that have begun to heal, seem no longer able to be expressed in this way.
Finally, he put down his pen and carefully folded the blank sheet of paper into a small boat.
Instead of burning it as usual, he went to the window and gently placed it into the pot of wildflowers that had become the "Light Path" communication station.
That night, he saw countless mycelia rise from the soil, like a tide carrying the paper boat, slowly sinking into the depths of the soil until it disappeared.
The next morning, Lin Yi was awakened by a strange light.
He walked to the window and saw a halo of light composed of tiny light buds emerging from the edge of the flowerpot.
At the heart of each bud, a bright character flickers.
The characters, when put together, form a complete sentence:
"Your life is a reply."
Lin Yi stood frozen by the window, as if the blood in his body had stopped flowing at that moment.
He looked up and gazed out the window.
The pebbly path in the distance undulates with the morning breeze, its light and shadow rising and falling in rhythm.
The entire city seemed to come alive at that moment, writing those unfinished sentences for him and for everyone else.
He felt an unprecedented sense of relief, as if a huge boulder that had been weighing on his heart for many years had finally been completely removed.
Life itself is the best solace for the deceased.
His being alive is the best answer.
A few days later, Lin Yi's state of mind had changed.
He walked briskly on his way to buy groceries.
Every stone slab under his feet and every green leaf by the roadside seemed to have come alive and warmth in his eyes, greeting him in their own unique way.
However, when he turned the corner and saw that familiar bench in the distance, his steps involuntarily slowed down.
Grandma Chen was sitting there alone, her back view looking rather desolate.
She didn't look at the scenery, nor did she greet the neighbors she passed by as usual. Instead, she lowered her head, her expression solemn, and examined her hands again and again.
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