162: Chapter 162 Lin Feng Makes a Kite

After the bowl was finished, the cat would bury its face in it every day to drink milk, licking it spotless afterward until the paw prints on the bowl's sides shone even brighter. Lin Feng squatted by the pit, watching, feeling as though the cat treated the bowl like its own precious treasure. But aside from drinking milk and eating cake, the cat did nothing but sleep, spending nearly twenty hours a day in slumber. Lin Feng felt the cat was too idle, even more so than himself. When he squatted with nothing to do, he could still watch ants, listen to the wind, or count the stairs. The cat just slept, ate upon waking, and slept again once full. Lin Feng remembered his childhood—not his own, but children he hadn't seen but had heard of—who would fly kites. Kites would fly in the sky, strings held in hand; as they ran, the wind would lift the kite. The cat didn't know how to fly a kite, but Lin Feng knew how to make one. He could make a kite and tie it to the cat, so the kite would take flight when the cat ran. When the cat wasn't running, the kite would rest on the ground like a fallen cloud.

He went to Molly for materials. Molly rummaged through the storage room and found a roll of old newspapers, a bundle of bamboo strips, a spool of cotton thread, and a jar of paste. Lin Feng moved the items under the tree and squatted on the ground to begin. First, he split the bamboo into thin strips and tied them into a cross shape with the cotton thread. The cross had to be straight; if it were crooked, the kite would fly lopsided. He tied it slowly, winding every loop tightly until the thread left shallow marks in the bamboo. The cat climbed out of the tree pit and squatted nearby, tilting its head as it watched him tie the bamboo. It reached out a paw to bat at the strips; the cross wobbled but steadied itself. Lin Feng looked at the cat. "Don't cause trouble." The cat retracted its paw and sat nearby, the tip of its tail twitching gently. He placed the bamboo cross on the newspaper, cut out a diamond shape to size, and used the paste to stick the paper onto the bamboo. The paste was thick and went on white; the cat leaned in to sniff it and sneezed. Lin Feng smoothed the newspaper, folded the edges over to wrap the bamboo, and applied another layer of paste. While waiting for the paste to dry, he tied the cotton thread to the center of the cross and the other end to a short wooden stick. The kite was finished—diamond-shaped, white-backed, without any patterns. Feeling it was too plain, Lin Feng pulled a pen from his pocket and drew a mushroom on it. It was brown and round, with spots on its cap. The cat looked at the mushroom and batted at the kite; the kite wobbled, and the mushroom wobbled with it.

Lin Feng tied the kite string to the cat's collar. The cat didn't have a collar, so he found a strip of red cloth and tied a loose knot around its neck. The cat looked down at the red cloth, batted at it with a paw, failed to remove it, and tilted its head at Lin Feng. Lin Feng tied the kite string to the red cloth; as the cat stood up, the kite trailed on the ground like a tail. The cat walked a few paces, and the kite drifted up an inch before falling back down. The cat looked back at the kite, then at Lin Feng. Lin Feng squatted, watching the cat. "Run. Run, and it will fly." The cat didn't run; it squatted down and batted at the kite, which flipped over to reveal the bamboo strips on the back. The cat batted again, and the kite flipped back. It seemed to be studying the object. Lin Feng stood up, walked behind the cat, and gave its rear a gentle push. The cat stood up and walked a few steps; the kite drifted up two inches before falling again. As the cat walked more, the kite drifted and fell repeatedly. It never quite ran, only walked. Lin Feng squatted down and looked at the cat. "You're too fat. You can't run." The cat didn't answer; it squatted down and began to lick its paws, ignoring the kite.

Lin Feng thought for a moment, untied the kite string from the cat's neck, and tied it to his own wrist. He stood up and ran a few steps, and the kite took flight. When he ran fast, the kite flew high. When he ran slow, the kite descended. He ran a lap, and the kite traced a circle in the air. The cat squatted on the ground, head tilted back to watch the kite, Ears pricked straight up, the tip of its tail twitching gently. The kite drifted in the wind, the newspaper rustling and the bamboo strips creaking like Old Zhou's old bicycle. Lin Feng ran two laps, stopped, and squatted next to the cat. The kite landed on the ground, its paper surface and the mushroom both wrinkled. The cat reached out a paw and batted at the kite, flipping it over. It batted again, and the kite flipped back. It seemed to find the object very amusing; it didn't need to fly to be played with on the ground.

Lin Feng retied the kite string to the cat's red cloth. The cat stood up, dragged the kite for a few steps, and it drifted an inch off the ground. The cat walked a few more steps, and the kite flew higher. It began to trot, and the kite rose wobbling—one foot, two feet, three feet high. As the cat ran faster, the kite flew higher; as the cat slowed, the kite dipped. The cat ran a lap, the kite tracing an uneven circle in the sky. It ran back and squatted at Lin Feng's feet, looking up at the kite. The kite drifted in the sky, sunlight filtering through the newspaper to cast the shadow of the bamboo strips. The cat watched for a while, then ran again, and the kite took flight once more. It ran all afternoon, from the tree pit to the church entrance, from the church to the Coffee Shop, from the Coffee Shop to the Restaurant, and then back again. The kite drifted continuously, neither too high nor too low, neither to the left nor the right, like a gray bird following the cat. When the cat grew tired, it squatted in the tree pit, and the kite fell to the ground, covering the blue cloth like a quilt. The cat curled up under the kite and closed its eyes. Lin Feng squatted nearby, watching the cat. The cat's purring came through the newspaper, muffled, as if from a great distance.

Margaret came out of the Restaurant and saw a newspaper covering the tree pit, with the cat purring underneath. She squatted down and lifted a corner of the newspaper, revealing the cat's face with its eyes half-closed. She smiled. "Did you make a quilt for the cat?" Lin Feng said, "A kite. It ran all afternoon and got tired." Margaret covered it back up, and the cat's muffled purring drifted out again. She stood up and looked at Lin Feng. "You know how to make kites too?" Lin Feng said, "Just learned." Margaret asked, "From whom?" Lin Feng said, "Figured it out myself." Margaret smiled. "You're figuring out more and more things." Lin Feng said, "I have nothing to do while squatting, so I just think."

In the evening, Old Zhou came to deliver the mail. He parked his bike by the tree pit and saw a newspaper covering it, with the cat purring underneath. He squatted down and lifted a corner of the newspaper; the cat's Ears twitched, but it didn't wake. Old Zhou covered it back up, pulled a letter from his bag, and handed it to Lin Feng. "Yours." Lin Feng opened it; inside was only a single sheet of paper with a single line: "Lin Feng, your kite flies so high. The cat runs so fast." It was unsigned. Lin Feng took out pen and paper and wrote a reply. "The kite isn't high. The cat isn't fast. But it ran for a long time. It got tired and went to sleep." He posted the letter on the wall and walked back. Old Zhou was still squatting by the pit, listening to the cat's purring. He asked Lin Feng, "Flying the kite again tomorrow?" Lin Feng thought for a moment. "No. The cat is tired. Let it rest for a day." Old Zhou stood up and patted his trousers. "I'm heading back." He climbed onto his bike, the chain clinking as he left. Lin Feng squatted by the pit, looking at the cat under the kite. The cat's tail peeked out from the edge of the newspaper, twitching occasionally as if chasing something in a dream.

That evening, Lin Feng sat on the steps in front of the Restaurant. He wasn't squatting, but sitting. Margaret came out carrying a plate of mushrooms and sat beside him. The two of them sat there, watching the sky. Stars twinkled one by one, just like yesterday. The cat crawled out of the tree pit, walked to their feet, squatted down, and looked up at the stars. It watched for a long time, then closed its eyes, curled into a ball, and started purring. Margaret looked at the cat. "It ran a long way today." Lin Feng said, "Over a dozen laps." Margaret asked, "Did it lose weight?" Lin Feng said, "No, but while it was running, its belly looked a little smaller." Margaret laughed. "You can even tell the size of its belly." Lin Feng said, "I saw it while squatting with nothing to do." The wind blew, carrying the scent of newspaper ink, the fresh fragrance of bamboo, the aroma of coffee, and the light sweetness of mushrooms. Lin Feng closed his eyes and took a sniff. He opened his eyes, stood up, and patted his trousers. "I'm going to sleep." Margaret stood up too. "Are you making something for the cat tomorrow as well?" Lin Feng nodded. "Yes." Margaret asked, "What are you making?" Lin Feng thought for a moment. "A windmill. I'll stick it by the pit so it spins when the wind blows. The cat won't be bored watching it spin." Margaret smiled. "The cat isn't bored. It sleeps twenty hours a day." Lin Feng said, "It's not bored during those twenty hours. For the remaining four, it is. If the windmill spins, it won't be bored." Margaret looked at him. "How do you know it's bored?" Lin Feng said, "Just a guess." He turned and walked into the Restaurant, Margaret following behind him. The door closed, and the lights went out. The cat jumped down from the steps, walked back to the tree pit, curled up on the blue cloth, pulled the kite over to cover itself, and closed its eyes. The moon emerged from behind the clouds, casting its shadow on the ground—small and round, like a ball of yarn. The wind blew, and the corners of the kite lifted and fell as if it were breathing. Lin Feng stood in the Restaurant, looking out the window. He saw the cat's shadow, the kite's shadow, and the tree's shadow. He watched for a long time, then drew the curtains and went to sleep.

[Chapter 162 End]