131: Chapter 131 The People Under the Tree

The three trees grew up almost simultaneously. The one in Millfield, the one in Greenfield, and the one in front of the Coffee Shop in Xinfeng Town seemed to have made a pact, blooming their first flowers on the same day. Lin Xiaohe was the first to notice. She squatted in front of the Coffee Shop and saw a pink bud emerging on a branch—small, plump, like a sleepy eye. She called over Molly. Molly came out carrying a cup of water, poured it on the roots, and then tilted her head to look at the bud. The cat also tilted its head to look, its tail tip swaying gently. The next morning, the flowers bloomed. Not just one, but many—red, yellow, purple, and white—crowded on the branches like a flock of colorful birds. Dewdrops hung on the petals, glistening in the morning light. Lin Xiaohe reached out and gently touched a red one; the petals trembled, and the dew rolled down, landing in her palm, cool to the touch.

When the news reached Millfield, Eric was watering his mushrooms. Sarah ran in and said that the tree in Xinfeng Town had blossomed, colorful and beautiful. Eric put down his watering can and walked to the small tree he had planted. It had blossomed too. Red, yellow, purple, and white, one by one, crowded on the branches. He squatted down and looked at the flowers for a long time. He remembered when he planted the seed; the soil was wet, the seed was black, and he thought he would have to wait a long time. Now it had blossomed, faster than he imagined. He picked a red one and placed it in his palm. The petals were thin, cool, and had a faint fragrance. He placed the petal on the mushroom rack, putting it together with the white mushrooms. Red and white—it looked very nice.

When the news reached Greenfield, Martha was playing the guitar. Hearing the news, she put down her guitar and walked to the small tree she had planted. It had blossomed too. Red, yellow, purple, and white, one by one, swaying gently in the wind. She sat down beside the roots and played a tune. Petals drifted down with the music, landing on her head, on the guitar, and on the ground. When she finished playing, she picked up a yellow petal and tucked it between the strings. The petal clung to the strings, and as the wind blew, it trembled gently, emitting a very soft, faint sound. She smiled. "You've learned to sing, too."

After the flowers faded, the fruits grew. Small and round, the size of glass marbles, they hung on the branches in red, yellow, purple, and white. People from Millfield came to pick them, people from Greenfield came to pick them, and people from Xinfeng Town came to pick them too. Some said eating them would make you recall happy memories, some didn't believe it, and some wanted to try.

A young man from California stood under the tree, picked a red one, and put it in his mouth. As he chewed, he remembered the day he first left home. His mother stood at the door, holding a bag containing sandwiches and apples. He took the bag and said, "Mom, I'm leaving." Mom said, "Call me when you get there." He walked a long way, looked back, and his mother was still standing at the door. He swallowed, tears welling up in his eyes, but the corners of his mouth were turned up. He picked another yellow one and put it in his pocket to save for tomorrow.

An old lady from Pennsylvania came with a cane, stood under the tree, picked a purple one, and put it in her mouth. As she chewed, she remembered the day she got married. She was wearing a white wedding dress, holding a bouquet of red roses in her hands. The groom stood beside her, his palms sweating with nervousness. She said, "Don't be nervous," and he said, "I'm not nervous," and then the ring fell to the ground and rolled three times. She smiled. She swallowed and smiled. She picked a white one and put it in her pocket to save for her old man. The old man was gone, but she felt he would be able to eat it.

A child riding on his father's shoulders reached out and picked a yellow one, putting it into his mouth. As he chewed, he remembered the day he first rode a bicycle. His father held the back seat, running circle after circle. He rode wobbly, but he didn't fall. When his father let go, he didn't know; he rode quite far before looking back and seeing his father standing in the distance, waving at him. He swallowed and smiled. He picked a red one and handed it to his father. His father ate it and smiled too.

The three trees grew taller and taller. The one in Millfield was already taller than the mushroom rack. The one in Greenfield was already taller than the church roof. The one in Xinfeng Town was already taller than the Coffee Shop sign. People placed a few chairs under the trees; some sat and chatted, some leaned against the trunk to read, and some squatted by the roots to daydream. The cat squatted under the tree every day, sometimes sharpening its claws on the roots, sometimes chasing falling leaves, and sometimes doing nothing at all, just sitting there, eyes closed, its tail tip swaying gently.

One day, Eric walked from Millfield to Xinfeng Town, holding a white mushroom in his hands. He walked to the tree and placed the mushroom next to the roots. The cat walked over, sniffed the mushroom, licked it, and then squatted beside it, its tail tip swaying gently. Eric squatted down and looked at the cat. "Do you like eating mushrooms too?" The cat didn't answer, but it batted the mushroom with its paw. The mushroom rolled a bit, hit the roots, and stopped. The cat batted it again, and the mushroom rolled again. It seemed to be playing. Eric smiled. He stood up, walked into the Coffee Shop, and ordered an Americano. Molly brought it out, he took it, and took a sip—it was bitter. He sat under the tree, looking at the tree, looking at the fruits, looking at the cat. He remembered the first time he came to Xinfeng Town; it was a spring just like this, with wildflowers blooming on both sides of the road. He had written a letter and posted it on the wall. Now the wall was still there, the door was still there, and the tree was there too. He didn't know how much longer he would stay here, but he knew he would come again.

Martha walked over from Greenfield, holding her guitar. She walked to the tree, sat on a chair, and gently plucked a string. The string rang, and the leaves on the tree rustled as if in response. She played a slow tune; the wind blew from the treetops, and petals drifted down, landing on her head, on the guitar, and on the ground. When she finished playing, she looked up and saw Eric sitting opposite her, holding a cup of coffee. She smiled. "You came too." Eric nodded. "I did." She placed the guitar on her knees and looked at the tree. "How high will it grow?" Eric thought for a moment. "I don't know. But it will grow all the way to the sky." Martha looked up at the sky, then lowered her head to look at the tree. She smiled.

Lin Xiaohe ran over from school, her schoolbag still on. She squatted beside the roots, took out a piece of white chalk from her bag, and drew a small pattern on the trunk. It was the character for "Listen," exactly the same as the one she had written on the wall the first time. She drew very slowly, every stroke very carefully. After she finished, she stood up and looked at the character. The cat walked over, sniffed it with its nose, and then stuck out its tongue and licked it. A small piece of the chalk mark was licked away, and Lin Xiaohe smiled. "You're listening too." The cat didn't answer, but it squatted beside the roots, eyes closed, its tail tip swaying gently.

That evening, Lin Feng squatted under the old locust tree. Margaret brought over a plate of mushrooms and squatted beside him.

"Lin Feng, all three trees have borne fruit. Many people come to eat them, and after eating, they all recall happy memories."

Lin Feng took the mushrooms and ate one. "Have you eaten any?"

Margaret nodded. "I have. I remembered the day I first saw you."

Lin Feng looked at her. "What did you recall?"

Margaret smiled. "I remembered you squatting at the restaurant entrance, biting on a straw. I thought you were there for a free meal." She paused. "Later I realized, you were there to make people laugh."

Lin Feng chewed the mushroom, the corners of his mouth turning up. "If the tree is there, the people are there."

Margaret looked at him. "How do you know?"

Lin Feng swallowed. "Because there are people under the tree. If there are people, they will come; if they come, they will sit; if they sit, they will look; if they look, they will think; if they think, they will smile. If the tree is there, the people are there."

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

Lin Feng said, "When I was biting on the straw."

The next morning, Old Zhou came to deliver letters. He parked his bike in front of the Coffee Shop and saw several people sitting under the tree. Eric was holding coffee, Martha was holding her guitar, Lin Xiaohe was squatting by the roots drawing characters, and the cat was squatting on the roots sharpening its claws. He didn't disturb them; he took the letters out of his bag and posted them on the wall. After posting them, he stood under the tree, picked a red fruit, and put it in his mouth. As he chewed, he remembered the day he first saw these three trees. He had ridden to Millfield and saw a small tree behind Eric, thin and straight. He had ridden to Greenfield and saw a small tree behind Martha, too, thin and straight. He had ridden to Xinfeng Town and saw a small tree in front of the Coffee Shop, taller than the other two. He had squatted down, touched the trunk—it was smooth and cool. He smiled. He stood up, got on his bike, and continued riding forward. The chain jingled, and he rode very slowly, but very steadily.

He thought of those trees, those fruits, and those people under the trees. They came from Millfield, from Greenfield, and from Xinfeng Town. They sat under the trees, eating fruits, playing guitars, drinking coffee, writing, and daydreaming. They smiled. If the tree is there, the people are there. He smiled and continued riding forward.

[Chapter 131 Finished]