102: Chapter 102 The Shadow of the Wall
Lin Xiaohe discovered that the shadows on the wall would move on a sunny afternoon. Sunlight shone through the stained-glass windows, falling onto those letters, those cassette tapes, and those drawings. The shadows of the letter paper were cast on the ground—black, white, and gray; some long, some short; some like tree branches, some like small tufts of grass, and some like the marks left on a cutting board by her mother's knife when chopping vegetables. She crouched at the base of the wall and watched those shadows for a long time.
The wind blew, the paper moved, and the shadows moved too. Some drifted left, some drifted right, some darted upward, and some fell downward. She reached out her hand to catch a shadow. As her hand extended, the shadow fell onto the back of her hand—black and gray, like a birthmark. She turned her hand over, and the shadow fell into her palm again. She clenched her fist, and the shadow shattered into several pieces, falling into the gaps between her fingers. She relaxed her hand, and the shadow merged back together.
She stood up, ran to the door, and pushed it open. Sunlight shone in from outside, casting her shadow on the ground. She looked at her own shadow; she moved her arm, and the shadow moved its arm. She jumped, and the shadow jumped. She crouched down, and the shadow crouched down. She laughed and ran back to find Jenny.
"The wall has shadows," she said.
Jenny paused for a moment. "What?"
Lin Xiaohe pulled her hand, walked to the wall, and pointed at the shadows on the ground. "Look. The wall's shadow. The paper's shadow. The cassette tapes' shadow. They all move."
Jenny crouched down and looked at the shadows. Sunlight shone through the stained-glass windows, falling on the ground and onto those shadows. The wind blew, the paper moved, and the shadows moved too. Some drifted left, some drifted right, some darted upward, and some fell downward. She watched for a long time and then smiled. "I see them." Lin Xiaohe smiled too. "I'm not the only one who saw them."
When the news reached the farm, George was picking mushrooms. Sarah ran in and said Lin Xiaohe saw the wall's shadow, and Jenny saw it too. George put down the mushrooms, stood up, and walked to the door of the church. The door was open, and sunlight shone out from inside, falling on the ground. He stood at the door and watched for a while, then walked inside and crouched at the base of the wall. Those shadows were on the ground—black, white, and gray; some long, some short; some like the mushrooms he grew, one by one.
The wind blew, and the shadows moved like mushrooms growing. He watched for a long time, then stood up and walked to the door. That bicycle was still there, the red ribbon on the handlebars fluttering in the wind, its shadow falling on the ground, long and thin like a red thread. He watched for a long time, then walked back, took a letter out of his pocket, and pasted it on the wall. The letter was very short, with only a few lines of text:
"My name is George. Seventy-three years old. Today I saw the wall's shadow. I wasn't the only one who saw it. A child saw it first. She is seven years old. Her name is Lin Xiaohe. Thank you to her."
After that letter was posted, more people came to the church to see the wall's shadow. They didn't come to see the letters, but to see the shadows. Some stood and watched, some crouched and watched, and some reached their hands into the shadows to look. Sunlight shone through the stained-glass windows, falling on those letters, those cassette tapes, and those drawings. The shadows fell on the ground—some like words, some like drawings, some like people. The wind blew, and the shadows moved as if they had come to life.
Lin Xiaohe came every day. She crouched at the base of the wall and watched those shadows. She watched how they moved, where they drifted, when they grew long, and when they grew short. She noticed that some shadows moved fast, some moved slow, some moved in straight lines, and some turned corners. She didn't know what those shadows were, but she knew they were walking.
One day, she brought a piece of chalk. The chalk was white, taken from school. She crouched at the base of the wall and drew a line along the edge of a shadow. The shadow moved, but the line she drew did not. The shadow moved elsewhere, but the line remained on the ground. She looked at that line, then at the shadow, then stood up and ran to the door, pushing it open. Sunlight shone on her face, and she held the chalk up, looking at it against the light. The chalk was white and bright, different from the letter paper. But she felt that, like the letter paper, it could leave something behind.
She ran back, crouched at the base of the wall, and drew another line along the edge of another shadow. The shadow moved, but the line she drew did not. She drew line after line for an entire afternoon. The ground was covered in white lines—horizontal, vertical, curved, and straight; some long, some short; some like words, some like drawings. After finishing the last line, she stood up and looked at them. Those shadows were still there, on the ground, beside those white lines. Some shadows were inside the lines, some were outside, some were pressing against the lines, and some were far away. She watched for a long time, then turned and left. At the door, she looked back. Those white lines were still there, and those shadows were too. She smiled.
When the news reached the Coffee Shop, Molly was wiping glasses. Someone ran in and said Lin Xiaohe was drawing at the base of the wall, using chalk to draw shadows. Molly put down the glass and ran to the church. Lin Xiaohe was already gone, but the ground was covered in white lines—horizontal, vertical, curved, and straight. She crouched down and looked at the lines. She saw that some lines were drawn along shadows; the shadows had moved, but the lines remained. Some lines were not drawn along shadows, but were drawn by the girl herself. She had drawn the sun, clouds, a mushroom, and a person. That person had no face, only an outline, but Molly knew who it was. It was Lin Xiaohe herself. She was crouching there with two braids, holding that guitar that was even bigger than she was.
Molly watched for a long time, then stood up, walked to the door, and pushed it open. That bicycle was still there, the red ribbon on the handlebars fluttering in the wind. She stood there and watched for a while, then walked back, took a letter out of her pocket, and pasted it on the wall. The letter was very short, with only a few lines of text:
"My name is Molly. Twelve years old. Today I saw a child drawing at the base of the wall. She is seven years old. Her name is Lin Xiaohe. She drew the sun, the clouds, a mushroom, and herself. Thank you to her for drawing."
The next day, Lin Xiaohe came again. She brought a box of colored chalk—red, yellow, blue, and green. She crouched at the base of the wall and watched those shadows. Sunlight shone through the stained-glass windows, falling on the ground and onto those shadows. She chose a piece of red chalk and drew a red line along the edge of a shadow. The shadow moved, but the red line did not. She chose a piece of yellow chalk and drew a yellow line along the edge of another shadow. The shadow moved, but the yellow line did not. She drew all morning, and the ground was covered in colored lines—red, yellow, blue, and green. Those shadows were still there, on the ground, beside those colored lines. Some shadows were inside the lines, some were outside, some were pressing against the lines, and some were far away.
After finishing the last stroke, she stood up and looked at the lines. There were red ones, yellow ones, blue ones, and green ones. Together, they were like a painting. She watched for a long time, then crouched down and used the chalk to write a line of text on the ground. She wrote very slowly, thinking for a long time about each word. After finishing, she stood up and looked at the line. The characters were crooked, like those written by a child who had just learned to write: 'The wall's shadow can walk. I've drawn it. Now it can't leave.'
When the news reached Millfield, Eric was watering the plants. Sarah ran in and said Lin Xiaohe was drawing the wall's shadow with colored chalk and had even written a line on the ground. Eric put down the hose and crouched in front of the shelves. He remembered when he wrote his first letter, also using a pen to write words on paper. Now someone was using chalk to write words on the ground, writing them for the wall's shadow to see. He stood up to find Dave. "Dave, I want to go see those drawings." It was afternoon when he reached the church. Sunlight shone through the stained-glass windows, falling on the ground and onto those colored lines. He crouched down and looked at the lines—red, yellow, blue, and green; horizontal, vertical, curved, and straight. He watched for a long time, then stood up and walked to that line of text. The characters were crooked, but he recognized them.
"The wall's shadow can walk. I've drawn it. Now it can't leave."
He watched for a long time, then took a letter out of his pocket and pasted it on the wall. The letter was very short, with only a few lines of text:
"My name is Eric. A mushroom grower. Today I saw a child writing on the ground. She is seven years old. Her name is Lin Xiaohe. She wrote that the wall's shadow can walk. She drew it. Now it can't leave. Thank you to her for writing."
That evening, George came to the church. He stood in front of the wall, looking at those colored lines on the ground—red, yellow, blue, and green; horizontal, vertical, curved, and straight. He watched for a long time, then crouched down and gently traced a red line with his finger. The chalk marks were very light and blurred at a touch. But he felt those lines were still there—on the ground, beside those shadows. He stood up, walked to the door, and pushed it open. That bicycle was still there, the red ribbon on the handlebars fluttering in the wind, its shadow falling on the ground, long and thin like a red thread. He watched for a long time, then walked back, took a letter out of his pocket, and pasted it on the wall. The letter was very short, with only a few lines of text:
"My name is George. Seventy-three years old. Today I saw a child drawing on the ground. She is seven years old. Her name is Lin Xiaohe. She drew the wall's shadow. Red, yellow, blue, and green. Thank you to her for drawing."
The next morning, Old Zhou came to deliver the mail. He parked his bike at the church door and pushed it open. The ground was covered in colored lines—red, yellow, blue, and green; horizontal, vertical, curved, and straight. He crouched down and looked at the lines. He remembered when he first drew, he was also about that age. He had forgotten what he drew, but he remembered that he had drawn. He stood for a long time, then turned, pushed open the door, and walked into the morning light.
The bicycle was still creaking at the door; he got on and pedaled slowly forward. The road wound its way into the distance, and the wind blew, messing up his hair. He rode very slowly but steadily. He thought of those letters, those drawings, those cassette tapes, those shadows, and that child drawing on the ground. She had drawn the wall's shadow—red, yellow, blue, and green. She had drawn it, and now the shadow couldn't leave. He smiled and continued riding forward. He rode very slowly but steadily.
[Chapter 102 End]