This question, like an invisible thorn, pierced the heart of everyone present.
Light should be hope, a gift, but when this light shines on the earth and belongs to everyone, it becomes a responsibility, a heavy responsibility that no one knows how to bear.
As Qingming Festival approaches, the air is filled with the damp scent of grass and trees, and a faint sense of solemnity.
The community representative, a middle-aged man wearing gold-rimmed glasses and speaking clearly, stood on the makeshift platform and cleared his throat.
"Dear neighbors, regarding the memorial arrangements for Mr. Lin Yi, the discoverer of the 'Light Path,' we have discussed and drafted a preliminary plan." His voice, transmitted through a portable speaker, echoed across the entrance plaza of the wetland park, and the crowd quieted down.
“We propose that a monument be erected in the heart of the wetland park, next to that unique wallflower, to commemorate Mr. Lin Yi. Using the finest obsidian and the best craftsmen, his name and deeds should be inscribed on it forever, for future generations to admire. This is the honor he deserves, and our community's highest respect for him!”
His words were passionate and reasonable.
A murmur of approval rippled through the crowd.
Commemorating heroes and erecting monuments for them is a matter of course that has been done since ancient times.
Lin Yi transformed into light, leaving behind such a precious miracle for this land. What is a stone tablet compared to that?
"I agree! A monument should be erected!"
"Yes, we must not let future generations forget Lin Yi!"
"We must use the best materials; this is what we owe him!"
The atmosphere was stirred up, and people's emotions gradually rose, as if they could immediately see a magnificent monument rising from the center of the wetland.
Just then, a very soft yet very clear "tap, tap" sound came from behind the crowd.
The sound carried a unique rhythm, like an old clock, neither hurried nor slow, yet it brought all the noise to a standstill.
Everyone instinctively turned around, and a passageway automatically parted.
Grandma Chen, leaning on her worn-out old wooden cane, slowly walked up step by step.
Her back was hunched, and every step seemed to require all her strength, but her cloudy eyes revealed an undeniable clarity.
Upon seeing this, the community representative quickly stepped forward to help her up, his face beaming with smiles: "Grandma Chen, what brings you here? We can handle this kind of thing. You are a highly respected elder, and we were just about to ask you to say a few words for the foundation stone."
Grandma Chen ignored his outstretched hand and simply tapped the ground with her cane to steady herself.
She was invited by the crowd to walk onto the stage. Her cloudy eyes swept over the familiar, expectant faces. Finally, she raised her hand, the end of her cane pointing to the wallflower swaying in the wind in the distance.
The entire hall was silent as everyone waited for the elderly man, who was closest to Lin Yi, to deliver the most touching opening remarks for this grand memorial ceremony.
Grandma Chen's lips moved a few times, and her hoarse voice, as if weathered by wind and frost, clearly reached everyone's ears.
She only said one sentence.
"He was most afraid of erecting monuments, saying that a monument is the end of the road."
One sentence, like a bucket of ice water, extinguished all the passionate emotions at the scene.
The smile on the community representative's face froze, and the murmurs of the crowd abruptly ceased.
The end? How could it be the end? That's clearly the pinnacle of glory!
Grandma Chen seemed oblivious to everyone's astonishment. Her withered finger continued to point at the wall-whispering flower, her voice tinged with a distant reminiscence: "If he were still here, seeing you all like this, he'd probably scratch his head, grin, and ask, 'Did you come to see me, or are you just passing by?'"
"What are you looking at me for? What's so interesting about me? The road is right under your feet, so get moving, that's what really matters."
She imitated Lin Yi's tone, that lively, slightly teasing tone, instantly making the name "Lin Yi" no longer a cold symbol, but a vibrant young man who seemed ready to emerge from the reeds at any moment.
Everyone fell completely silent.
Yes, how long has it been since they properly walked along that path of light?
Since the optical network stabilized, people have marveled at it, studied it, and utilized it, but have gradually forgotten the pure joy they felt when they first stepped on it barefoot.
They began discussing how to "manage" the light and how to "commemorate" its creator, forgetting that the light's sole purpose was to allow people to walk.
His monument is not a stone, but a road.
His name should not be engraved on a monument, but imprinted in the footprints of every traveler.
Silence is the loudest response on this land. The matter of erecting a monument has been forgotten.
That night, the moonlight, like water, spilled onto the tranquil wetlands.
Xiaoman led a group of children, like a group of little elves in the night, and quietly arrived at the edge of the wetland.
They moved very quietly, communicating with each other only through eye contact and gestures.
They brought no bricks or cement, nor did they carry anything that could be called "building materials".
Xiaoman carefully took out several items from her basket.
An old running shoe with worn-out soles, worn countless times on the light path; a rough piece of hemp rope, once used as a marker for the light path; a dented old kettle that belonged to a construction worker; and an old teacup with a chipped rim that belonged to Granny Chen.
The children followed suit.
They pulled out their treasures from their pockets: a clod of earth covered with silver mycelium that they had secretly dug up from where the Lin Yi fragments were unearthed; a small watering spoon that they usually used to water the Wallflower; and several peculiar pebbles wrapped in silver threads that they had picked up on the path of light.
These are the things they could find that are most connected to that light and that person named Lin Yi.
They had no blueprints, and no command.
Simply by a tacit understanding from the heart, these old items were gently arranged into a somewhat irregular circle around the newly sprouted wallflower at the edge of the wetland.
It resembles a simple yet sacred altar.
Each item has been bathed in light, and each placement seems to tell a story about walking.
They have no names, no inscriptions, they simply stand quietly, guarding the open space in the center.
Finally, Xiaoman planted a new seedling, with tender buds, that had just separated from the mother plant of the Wallflower in the very center of the circle.
She used the small water ladle to scoop up water from the wetlands and gently poured it down.
Water droplets slid down the leaves and seeped into the soil, causing the almost invisible silver mycelium to gleam slightly as if it had been awakened.
The children stood silently around the peculiar "altar" for a while, imitating the adults.
The night wind was exceptionally gentle, rustling the reeds like a wordless song.
Having done all this, they quietly retreated into the darkness, leaving no trace, as if they had never existed.
As night deepened, all was quiet.
The circle formed by old objects, under the hazy moonlight, exuded a strange, primal vitality.
It lacks the grandeur of a monument, yet it resonates more closely with the pulse of this land than any stone tablet.
It silently tells us that we remember, in our own way.
The darkness before dawn is the deepest, and a thin mist, like a veil, shrouds the entire wetland.
In the distance, a faint glimmer of dawn was beginning to appear on the horizon.
The first rays of dawn are about to pierce the deep night.
Everything was still asleep, with only the sound of the wind and the occasional chirping of birds in the distance.
Just then, a rhythmic, unhurried "tap, tap" sound, growing louder as it approached, broke the silence.
The sound, treading on the thin frost before dawn, was resolutely walking towards the edge of the wetlands, step by step.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com