135: Chapter 135 The Cat's Messenger

On the third day after the tree was filled with notes, a strong wind blew up.

Before going to school, Lin Xiaohe went to take a look; the notes were blown askew, and a few had already disappeared.

She stood on tiptoe to press back the one about to fall, then picked up two from the ground and hung them back up.

The cat crouched nearby, the tip of its tail swaying gently, its eyes fixed on the fluttering notes as if counting them.

Returning from school in the afternoon, she discovered one note missing from the tree—it hadn't been blown away by the wind, but taken by someone.

On that note was written: "Mom, I'm doing well here. Don't worry."

Lin Xiaohe squatted under the tree, staring at the empty branch for a long time.

The cat walked over and nudged her hand with its nose.

She looked down at the cat.

"Did you take it?"

The cat didn't answer, but it stood up, walked a few steps along the alley, glanced back at her, and then continued walking.

Lin Xiaohe followed behind it.

The cat walked to the end of the alley, turned a corner, and stopped in front of a door.

It was the door of the Post Office.

The cat crouched at the entrance and tapped the door panel with its paw.

The door opened, and Uncle Zhou stood inside, holding a letter in his hand.

Seeing the cat, and then Lin Xiaohe, he was stunned for a moment.

"Why are you here?"

The cat walked into the Post Office, jumped onto the table, and crouched beside a letter.

That letter already had a stamp and an address written on it; on the envelope it read: "Xinfeng Town, to the Coffee Shop."

Uncle Zhou picked up the letter and looked at it.

"I found this at the door this morning. I don't know who put it there."

The cat stretched out its paw, pressed down on the letter, and then looked up at Lin Xiaohe.

Lin Xiaohe suddenly understood.

"It's that note," she said, "Someone mailed the note."

Uncle Zhou opened the letter; inside was only a single sheet of paper with one line of text: "Mom, I'm doing well here. Don't worry."

There was no signature.

Uncle Zhou looked at that line of text for a long time.

"Is this the note from the tree?"

Lin Xiaohe nodded, "It was still there this morning, but gone by the afternoon. Someone mailed it out."

Uncle Zhou folded the letter and put it back in the envelope, "Mailed to whom?"

Lin Xiaohe looked at the address on the envelope— "Xinfeng Town, to the Coffee Shop."

This wasn't addressed to a specific person, but to this place. To anyone who sees this letter.

The cat jumped off the table, walked to the door, glanced back at Lin Xiaohe once more, and then ran off.

Lin Xiaohe chased after it, but the cat was already gone.

She stood at the entrance of the Post Office, looking at the empty alley.

The wind blew over, swirling the fallen leaves on the ground and then setting them down.

She turned and walked back to the Coffee Shop, where Molly was wiping a cup.

Lin Xiaohe told her about the letter; Molly put down the cup, took the letter, opened it, and looked at it for a long time.

"Someone wants to tell his mom that he is doing well here."

She stuck the letter on the wall of the Coffee Shop, along with the other letters, "He will see it."

Lin Xiaohe nodded, "He will."

The next day, another note was missing from the tree.

The one that read: "Dad, I'm still swinging on your swing."

When Lin Xiaohe discovered it, the cat was crouching under the tree, holding that note in its mouth.

Seeing Lin Xiaohe, it stood up and ran off with the note in its mouth.

Lin Xiaohe chased after it; the cat ran to the church entrance, pushed the door open with its paw, and slipped inside.

Lin Xiaohe pushed the door open and saw the cat crouching in front of that small door, placing the note on the threshold.

Then it used its paw to push the door panel, sliding the note into the gap.

The note disappeared behind the door.

The cat crouched at the entrance, glanced back at Lin Xiaohe, then jumped down the steps and left.

Lin Xiaohe squatted down, looking at that small door.

The note had been pushed in; where would it go? She didn't know.

But she knew it would arrive where it was meant to go.

When the news reached Millfield, Eric was watering the mushrooms.

Sarah ran in and said the notes on the tree were missing, and the cat had taken them away—some were sent to the Post Office to be mailed, others were pushed into doors.

Eric put down the watering can and walked to the small tree he had planted.

A note was also hanging on the tree, written by him: "Mark, after you left, I planted a tree. It has blossomed and borne fruit. When will you come back to see it?"

He reached out and touched the note.

A breeze blew, and the note swayed.

He didn't know if this note would also be taken by the cat, but he knew Mark would see it.

Perhaps not on the tree, perhaps somewhere else. But he would see it.

When the news reached Greenfield, Martha was playing the guitar.

Upon hearing the news, she put down the guitar and walked to the small tree she had planted.

A note was also hanging on the tree, written by her: "Old man, I planted a tree. It has blossomed, and the fruit is sweet. You can't taste it, but I tasted it for you."

She reached out and touched the note.

The note was pale yellow, fluttering gently in the wind.

She remembered the day she first tied a broken string to the tree, the string making a very soft sound in the wind.

Now the note was also making a sound in the wind, rustling, as if it were speaking.

She didn't know if the old man could hear it, but she felt that he could.

The notes on the tree in Xinfeng Town were getting fewer and fewer.

They weren't blown away by the wind; they were carried off by the cat.

It came every day, carrying one off each day.

Sometimes it carried them to the Post Office, sometimes to the church entrance, sometimes to that small door, pushing the note into the gap.

No one knew where those notes went, but Lin Xiaohe felt they went where they were meant to go.

One day, the cat ran under the old locust tree with a note in its mouth and placed it at Lin Feng's feet.

Lin Feng was squatting there, holding a straw in his mouth.

He looked down at the note but didn't pick it up.

The cat nudged the note with its paw; the note flipped over, revealing the words on it: "Thank you for making me smile."

Lin Feng looked at that line of text for a long time.

Then he picked up the note, folded it, and put it in his pocket.

The cat crouched beside him, the tip of its tail swaying gently.

Margaret walked over carrying a plate of mushrooms and squatted down beside them.

"Who wrote it?"

Lin Feng shook his head, "I don't know."

Margaret looked at the note, "It says 'you all'."

Lin Feng nodded, "It's not one person. It's many people."

Margaret smiled, "Then it's also written to many people."

That evening, Lin Feng was squatting under the old locust tree.

Margaret brought over a plate of mushrooms and squatted beside him.

"Lin Feng, the cat is delivering mail. It takes the notes from the tree and delivers them to where they need to go."

Lin Feng took the mushrooms and ate one, "The cat is busier than Uncle Zhou."

Margaret smiled, "Uncle Zhou delivers letters. The cat delivers words."

Lin Feng chewed the mushrooms, "Words will arrive, too."

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

Lin Feng swallowed, "Because someone wants to hear them. When someone wants to hear, they will arrive."

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

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

Early the next morning, Uncle Zhou came to deliver mail.

He parked his bike in front of the Coffee Shop and saw the cat crouching under the tree with a note in its mouth.

Seeing him, the cat placed the note on the ground and pushed it to his feet with its paw.

Uncle Zhou squatted down and picked up the note.

On it was written: "Uncle Zhou, the sound of your chain is very nice."

He was stunned for a moment and looked at the cat.

The cat crouched on the ground, the tip of its tail swaying gently, as if to say: It's you.

Uncle Zhou folded the note and put it in his pocket.

He stood up, got on his bike, and continued riding forward.

The chain clinked and clanked, sounding even nicer than before.

He rode very slowly, but very steadily.

He thought of those notes, those words, that cat.

It delivered the words to where they were meant to go.

He smiled and continued riding forward.

[Chapter 135 End]