123: Chapter 123 The Cat's Gift

The excitement from the rock concert hadn't yet faded, and the sweetness of the rainbow mushrooms still lingered on the tip of the tongue, when the grey cat began a new activity—carrying things to the base of the wall.

On the first day, it brought a bottle cap, red in color, its edges bitten into a jagged mess. It placed the cap next to that small black stone, nudged it with its nose to straighten it out, then squatted nearby for a while before turning and walking away.

Molly came out with milk, but the cat was gone, and the steps were empty. She noticed a bottle cap next to the saucer—a red one, glinting in the sunlight. She picked it up to examine it and recognized it—it was a soda bottle cap, the kind from her Coffee Shop. She put the cap back, placing it beside the saucer.

The next day, the cat returned. This time, it brought a feather, grey, fine and soft, as if it had fallen from a pigeon. It placed the feather next to the bottle cap and nudged it with its paw, making it stand up like a little flag. Then, it squatted nearby, waiting for Molly to bring out the milk.

Molly saw the feather and paused. She set the milk on the steps, and the cat lowered its head to drink. Once finished, it licked its lips, rubbed against Molly's feet, then walked to the base of the wall, squatted beside the pile of things, watched for a long time, and left.

On the third day, the cat brought a coin. It wasn't money, but a game token with a penguin stamped on it, the edges worn smooth until it was hard to see. It placed the token next to the feather and nudged it with its nose, trying to make it stand up.

The token wouldn't stand; it fell over. The cat nudged it again, and it fell again. After three attempts, all failures, it gave up, laid the token flat, and squatted nearby, the tip of its tail swaying gently.

When Lin Xiaohe arrived, she saw the token. She picked it up, turning it over in her hands. "This is a game token. I used to play with these." She put the token back and squatted next to the cat. "Are you giving gifts to the wall?"

The cat didn't answer, but it nudged the token with its nose again. The token rolled, hit the bottle cap, and made a "ding" sound. The cat's Ear twitched. Lin Xiaohe smiled. "It likes the sound."

When the news reached the Coffee Shop, Molly was wiping the counter. Lin Xiaohe ran in and said the cat was carrying things to the base of the wall—a bottle cap, a feather, a game token—all arranged neatly.

Molly put down her rag and walked to the church entrance. She squatted down to look at the items. The bottle cap, the feather, and the game token were lined up, as if someone were setting up a stall.

She didn't know where the cat found these things, but she knew it had put effort into it. She stood up, turned back, fetched a small saucer from the shop, poured a little milk into it, and placed it next to the items. The cat walked over, but instead of drinking the milk, it squatted in front of the items, watching them as if inspecting its own troops.

Molly squatted beside it. "Do you like these things?" The cat didn't answer, but it reached out a paw and nudged the bottle cap. The cap rolled, hit the feather, and the feather fluttered up and landed on the ground. The cat nudged the game token again; it rolled, hit the stone, and made a "ding" sound. The cat's Ear twitched again. It didn't seem to be setting up a stall; it was playing. It liked the sounds these things made.

Lin Xiaohe began coming every day to see the cat's gifts. On the fourth day, the cat brought a glass marble, transparent, with a winding, colorful pattern inside. It placed the marble next to the token and nudged it with its nose; the marble rolled a bit and stopped.

Lin Xiaohe picked it up and held it to the sunlight. The pattern inside the marble looked like a little river, winding and shimmering. She put the marble back and squatted next to the cat. "This marble is really pretty. Where did you find it?"

The cat didn't answer, but it nudged the marble with its paw. The marble rolled to the bottle cap, making a "ding-ding" sound. The cat's Ear pricked up, and the tip of its tail began to sway faster. Lin Xiaohe also nudged the marble, and it rolled to the feather, making two more "ding-ding" sounds. The cat reached out its paw and pressed down on the marble to stop it from rolling. It seemed to have its own rules.

On the fifth day, the cat brought a shiny candy wrapper, green and crumpled into a ball. It placed the wrapper next to the marble and nudged it with its nose; the wrapper unfolded slightly, revealing the silver inside.

Lin Xiaohe picked up the candy wrapper, unfolded it, and smoothed it out. The wrapper was large, with white patterns printed on a green background, shimmering brightly when held to the sunlight. She put the wrapper back, pressing it under the marble. When the wind blew, the wrapper lifted up like a butterfly's wing. The cat reached out a paw and pressed down on the wrapper to keep it from flying away. It pressed for a moment, then let go, and the wrapper lifted again. It pressed it down again. It seemed to be playing with the candy wrapper.

On the sixth day, the cat brought a bottle cap—not the red one, but a blue one. It placed the blue bottle cap next to the green candy wrapper and nudged it with its nose, lining it up beside the red one. The two bottle caps, one red and one blue, looked like two eyes.

Lin Xiaohe squatted nearby, watching the line of items—the bottle caps, feather, game token, marble, candy wrapper. They were arranged neatly, like a little train. The cat squatted in front of the locomotive, the tip of its tail swaying gently.

"Are you opening a shop for the wall?" Lin Xiaohe asked. The cat didn't answer, but it stood up, walked to the base of the wall, and patted the wooden board with its paw. The board made a "thump-thump" sound, as if knocking on a door.

Lin Xiaohe understood. The cat wasn't giving gifts to the wall; it was showing the wall its treasures. It placed its most beloved things in front of the wall to let it see. The wall couldn't speak, but it could listen. The cat knew that.

When the news reached the farm, George was slicing rainbow mushrooms. Sarah ran in and said the cat had lined up a row of things at the base of the wall—bottle caps, a feather, a game token, a marble, a candy wrapper—all neatly arranged.

George put down his knife, picked up a slice of rainbow mushroom, and put it in his mouth. He remembered that he, too, had collected things when he was a child—stamps, candy wrappers, marbles, bottle caps. He used to keep them in an iron box under his bed. Every night, he would take them out to look at, touch, and listen to them clink and clatter. Later, when he grew up, the iron box disappeared, and he didn't know where those things had gone. But he remembered what they looked like. The red bottle cap, the green candy wrapper, the transparent marble.

He swallowed, picked up a slice of mushroom, and walked to the church entrance. The cat was squatting at the base of the wall, watching those treasures. George squatted down and placed the mushroom slice next to the bottle cap. The cat lowered its head, sniffed, licked, chewed, and swallowed. It didn't think of anything—it was just a cat. But it licked its lips, rubbed against George's hand, and then continued to squat in front of the treasures.

Lin Xiaohe also began placing things at the base of the wall. She didn't place bottle caps or feathers, but chalk. White, red, yellow, blue, green. She placed the chalk sticks one by one next to the cat's treasures, lining them up in a row.

The cat walked over and nudged the white chalk with its paw. The chalk rolled, drawing a white line on the ground. The cat nudged the red one, drawing a red line. It got hooked, nudging the chalk sticks one by one, and colorful lines appeared on the ground—red, yellow, blue, green, white. After nudging the last one, it squatted in front of the colorful lines, the tip of its tail swaying gently.

Lin Xiaohe smiled. "You're drawing." The cat didn't answer, but it reached out a paw and pressed a paw print onto the colorful lines. Small, plum-blossom shaped, printed on the white line. Lin Xiaohe also reached out her hand and pressed a handprint beside it. Five fingers, small, side by side with the cat's paw print. She stood up and looked at the paw print and handprint. Together, they looked like two people signing their names.

That night, Sam came to the church entrance carrying his guitar. He squatted at the base of the wall, looking at the treasures—the bottle caps, feather, game token, marble, candy wrapper, chalk, paw print, handprint. He gently plucked a string; the string rang out, and the bottle cap vibrated and jumped, making a "ding" sound. He plucked again; the marble rolled, making two "ding-ding" sounds.

He played a very soft tune, and the little items jumped to the rhythm, clinking and clattering, like a tiny concert. The cat squatted nearby, listening. It didn't nudge the items; it just listened. When he finished playing, it stood up, walked to Sam's feet, rubbed against him, then squatted back down, continuing to watch the treasures.

Sam put the guitar into its case and looked at the cat. "Do you like music?" The cat didn't answer, but it reached out its paw and nudged the red chalk. The chalk rolled, drawing a red line on the ground. Sam smiled. "You like drawing too." The cat nudged the blue chalk again, drawing a blue line. It nudged one after another until the ground was covered in colorful lines. Sam squatted nearby, watching the cat draw.

The cat finished drawing and squatted in the middle of the colorful lines, the tip of its tail swaying gently. Sam reached out and stroked the cat's head. The cat narrowed its eyes, a purring sound rumbling in its throat.

The next morning, Old Zhou came to deliver mail. He parked his bike at the church entrance and saw a row of things lined up at the base of the wall—bottle caps, a feather, a game token, a marble, a candy wrapper, chalk, and also two paw prints and one handprint.

He squatted down to look at the items. He remembered that he, too, had collected things when he was a child—stamps, candy wrappers, marbles, bottle caps. He used to keep them in an iron box under his bed. Later, the iron box disappeared, and he didn't know where those things had gone. But he remembered what they looked like.

He stood up, fished a letter from his bag, and stuck it to the wall. Then he squatted down, took something out of his pocket, and placed it next to the row of treasures. It was a nail—old, rusty, but with a character carved on the nail head: "Zhou." He had carved it when he was young, a long time ago. He placed the nail next to the chalk, stood up, turned around, pushed the door open, and walked into the morning light.

His bicycle creaked as he mounted it and began to ride slowly forward. The road wound off into the distance, and the wind tousled his hair. He rode slowly but steadily. He thought of those treasures—the cat's, Lin Xiaohe's, his own. They were all at the base of the wall, huddled together with the letters, stones, chairs, stethoscopes, mirrors, and scales.

The wall couldn't speak, but it could listen. The cat knew, Lin Xiaohe knew, and he knew. He smiled and continued riding forward.

[Chapter 123 End]