126: Chapter 126 The Road on the Right

Three days after that small door appeared on the wall, Lin Xiaohe stood before it again.

She touched the doorknob, gave it a gentle turn, and with a click, the door opened.

The dirt path was still there, the wildflowers on both sides were still there, and the sunlight was spread warmly across it.

The cat was already crouching at the doorway, the tip of its tail swaying gently, as if it were waiting for her.

Lin Xiaohe stepped inside, and the cat walked ahead of her.

The path was the same as before; the soil was soft, and there was no sound when she stepped on it.

The wildflowers were red, yellow, purple, and white—more than she had seen last time—crowding the roadside in clusters as if waiting specifically for her.

The cat did not walk fast, but it moved steadily, turning back to look at her every few steps as if to confirm she was still there.

Lin Xiaohe crouched down and touched a yellow wildflower; its petals were thin and cool, leaving a bit of pollen on her fingertips.

She stood up and continued walking.

She walked very slowly, looking down at her feet with every step, not because the path was difficult, but because she wanted to commit this path to memory.

There were wildflowers on both sides that she recognized and others that she did not.

For the ones she recognized, she could name them—dandelions, daisies, wild chrysanthemums.

For the ones she did not recognize, she gave them names: Little Red, Little Yellow, Little Purple, and Little White.

The cat walked in front, its tail held straight up like a moving flagpole, occasionally stopping to flick a pebble on the roadside with its paw, sending the pebble rolling into the grass with a soft rustling sound.

After walking for about ten minutes, she reached that fork in the path.

She had walked the left path before, where there was a large tree and an old tire swing.

She did not yet know where the right side led.

The cat crouched at the fork, looking left and right, its tail sweeping back and forth on the ground.

Lin Xiaohe crouched down and touched the cat's head, and its Ear twitched.

"Let's go right." After she said this, she took the first step herself.

The cat stood up and followed behind her; this time, she was the one walking in front.

The path on the right was wider than the one on the left, and instead of shrubbery, it was flanked by a dense bamboo forest.

The bamboo was very tall, even taller than the roof of the church, with green stalks growing upward, segment by segment.

The bamboo leaves rustled overhead; when the wind blew, it sounded like many people whispering, or like someone turning the pages of a very, very thick book.

Lin Xiaohe slowed her pace, listening as she walked.

Some rustling sounds were loud, others soft; some were hurried, others long and drawn out.

She closed her eyes and walked for a short distance, listening only to the sounds without looking at the path.

The cat meowed, and she opened her eyes to see the cat crouching in front, staring at her as if to say: You've strayed from the path.

She looked down and realized she had indeed strayed, nearly stepping into the grass on the side of the path.

She smiled and walked back to the center.

She had listened the whole way, feeling that the bamboo leaves were telling a very, very long story, only she couldn't understand it.

But she was not in a hurry; if she didn't understand it now, she could listen again next time.

This path wasn't going anywhere.

After walking for about twenty minutes, the bamboo forest suddenly opened up, and the view before her became vast—a lake.

The lake water was clear and bright blue, like a piece of blue silk spread out on the ground.

The clouds in the sky were reflected in the water, drifting slowly, one by one.

By the lake, there was a large, flat rock that looked like a natural stone bed, covered in moss that was fluffy, green, and soft to the touch.

The cat jumped up first, crouching on the edge of the rock and staring at the water's surface.

It remained motionless, with only the tip of its tail swaying gently above the water.

Lin Xiaohe took off her shoes and dipped her feet into the water.

The water was cool and very comfortable, the chill rising from the soles of her feet all the way to the top of her head.

A few small black fish swam over and nibbled on her toes, which tickled, and she couldn't help but laugh out loud.

She tried to catch a fish with her toes, but it zipped away, then swam back to continue nibbling on her.

She laughed even louder.

The cat reached out a paw and swiped at the water; a splash flew up and landed on the tip of its nose.

It paused, shook its head, and swiped again—this time, the splash landed on Lin Xiaohe's skirt.

She looked down at the dark water stain on her skirt, but instead of getting angry, she laughed out loud.

She cupped her hands to scoop up some water and gently splashed it at the cat.

The cat nimbly jumped away, and the water splashed onto the rock, creating fine droplets.

The cat crouched a short distance away, tilting its head to look at her as if to say: Are you playing for real?

She scooped up another handful of water; this time the cat didn't dodge. The water landed on its back, and it shook its fur, licked its wet paw, and then stared at her with those glowing green eyes, as if to say: We're even.

She walked along the lake.

The lake was not large; it took only ten minutes to walk around it.

There were many stones by the lake, big and small, some round, some flat, some sharp.

She picked up a flat one and threw it hard across the surface of the lake; the stone skipped three times, creating three round ripples.

The cat crouched on the shore, watching those ripples slowly expand and vanish.

She picked up another one, and this time she threw it even harder; the stone skipped five times.

The cat's Ear perked up, and the tip of its tail swayed faster.

She laughed, "Do you like skipping stones too?"

The cat didn't answer, but it reached out a paw and flicked a small pebble into the water.

The pebble didn't skip; it sank straight to the bottom.

The cat stared at the water for a long time, as if wondering why its stone wouldn't skip.

On the other side of the lake grew a willow tree with a trunk thicker than the pillars of the church.

Its branches hung down to the water, swaying with the wind as if someone were combing their hair.

She stood under the willow tree and reached out to touch the soft branches; they were smooth and cool, like the cat's fur, and like the silk her mother hung out in the courtyard.

The cat followed, using its paw to bat at the hanging willow branches, which swayed back and forth, brushing against its face.

It narrowed its eyes, a purring sound rumbling in its throat.

It batted at it again, and the branches swayed again.

It seemed to be playing with the willow tree—one turn for you, one for me, neither giving way.

Lin Xiaohe crouched down and watched the game between the cat and the willow tree for a long time.

The wind blew across the lake, carrying the scent of water vapor and green grass; it was cool and felt very comfortable on her face.

She sat beside the roots of the willow tree, leaning her back against the trunk, and looked up at the hanging branches.

Sunlight leaked through the gaps in the branches and fell onto her face, bit by bit, like stars.

She closed her eyes and heard the wind blowing from the bamboo forest, passing through the willow branches, brushing across the lake, and going past her Ear.

The sound of the wind had many varieties—through the bamboo forest it was shasha shasha, through the willow branches it was xixisusu, and across the lake it was hua—very, very light, like a sigh.

She listened for a long time, committing every sound to memory.

The cat also closed its eyes, curling up beside her feet, its purring mixing with the sound of the wind like a lullaby.

The sun began to dip to the west, the color of the lake water changed from blue to gold, and the shadow of the willow tree was stretched long, like strands of golden thread.

She stood up, brushed the grass clippings off her skirt, and walked back along the original path.

The cat followed behind her, walking faster than when they came, as if it were in a hurry to go back and drink milk.

Passing through the bamboo forest, the bamboo leaves were still rustling; this time, she felt the sound had changed—it wasn't telling a story, but saying goodbye to her.

When she reached the fork, she stopped to look at the path on the left, remembering that creaking swing.

I'll go next time, she thought.

She continued walking, stepping over the wildflower clusters, over the soft dirt path, and across the threshold, back into the church.

The cat also followed her out.

She turned to grasp the doorknob, gave it a gentle pull, and with a click, the door closed.

She crouched before that small door, looking at the wood grain on the door panel, and smiled.

On the right, there was a lake, in the lake there were fish, by the lake there was a willow tree, and under the willow tree, there was a cat.

She would come again tomorrow.

When the news reached the Coffee Shop, Molly was wiping glasses.

Lin Xiaohe ran in and said the path on the right led to a lake, where there were fish in the lake, a willow tree by the lake, and she had even skipped stones with the cat.

Molly put down the glass, and the next day, she pushed the door open and went in too.

She didn't let the cat lead the way, walked to the fork herself, hesitated for a moment, and chose the right side.

She walked through the bamboo forest, saw the lake, and also sat on that large rock for a while.

She didn't take off her shoes, nor did she skip stones; she just stared at the water, lost in thought.

The color of the lake water made her feel very calm inside, as if someone were gently patting her back.

She thought of the oak tree and the swing in front of the house in Tennessee when she was a child, and thought of her father.

She sat for a long time, until the sun began to dip to the west, then stood up and returned the way she came.

She didn't tell Lin Xiaohe what she had thought about by the lake, only saying one sentence: "The water is very cool."

Lin Xiaohe didn't press for details; she knew that some things didn't need to be said out loud, and it was enough to keep them in her heart.

Sam didn't go in.

He sat on the threshold holding his guitar, pressed his Ear against the door panel to listen for a while, and then played a tune.

The sound from inside the door panel rose and fell with his strings, as if harmonizing, or perhaps singing along.

He finished playing, stood up, put the guitar into its case, and looked at that door.

"It is listening." He said.

He came every day, played every day, and the sound from inside the door panel followed him every day, growing louder with each passing day.

That night, Lin Feng was crouching under the old locust tree.

Margaret came over with a plate of mushrooms and crouched down beside him.

"Lin Feng, Lin Xiaohe walked the path on the right today, saw a lake, and even skipped stones with the cat."

Lin Feng took the mushrooms and ate one. "Did you go?"

Margaret shook her head. "No."

"Why?"

"I'm waiting. Waiting for her to finish walking it, then I will go. She discovered this path first, and I don't want to get ahead of her."

Lin Feng chewed the mushroom, the corners of his mouth curling up. "The path won't disappear. The door won't close either. Whenever you go, it will be there. It won't change just because you go before or after her."

Margaret looked at him and smiled. "When did you learn to say things like that?"

Lin Feng said: "When biting on a straw."

The next morning, Old Zhou came to deliver mail.

He parked his bike at the church entrance and saw that the small door was open.

The cat was crouching on the threshold, its tail swaying gently, eyes half-closed, as if it were dozing.

He glanced inside the door—the dirt path lay quietly in the morning light, dew still hanging on the wildflowers, and the shadows of the bamboo forest fell across the path, long and like black snakes.

He didn't walk in; it wasn't that he didn't want to, but he felt it wasn't the time yet.

He still had mail to deliver.

He took the letter out of his bag and stuck it on the wall.

After sticking it, he crouched down and touched the door panel; the wood grain was smooth and cool, different from those old wooden boards that had been installed twenty years ago.

He stood up, got on his bike, and the chain rang out ding-ding-ding, as if providing accompaniment for that path.

He rode very slowly and steadily, the wind ruffling his hair.

He smiled and continued riding forward.

He knew that the door would be there, the path would be there, the lake would be there, and the willow tree would be there.

They would not leave.

Whenever he went, they would be there.

[Chapter 126 End]