168: Chapter 168 Lin Fengjian, Expert

The wall was covered with microscopic drawings. Ant antennae, moss forests, fibers in dust, bugs in water, pollen like small potatoes, cat skin like bricks, sesame mazes... Passersby would stop to look for a while; some understood, some didn't, but all found them beautiful. Every day, Lin Feng squatted in front of the microscope, drawing new ones and posting them. The cat squatted beside him, sometimes looking at the microscope, sometimes at the drawings, and sometimes at the people.

That afternoon, an unfamiliar car arrived. It was black and very old, with paint peeling off in several places and a rope tied around the trunk to keep the lid from popping open. An old man got out of the car. His hair was completely white and messy, like a bird's nest. He wore a pair of thick glasses, the lenses thicker than beer bottle bottoms. He stood at the church entrance, looking at the drawings on the wall for a long time. Then he turned his head, saw Lin Feng squatting by the microscope, walked over, and squatted beside him. "Did you draw these?" Lin Feng nodded. The old man took a magnifying glass out of his pocket—not an ordinary one, but one mounted in a metal frame with a large lens and a wooden handle polished to a shine. He held the magnifying glass up to the drawings on the wall and looked repeatedly. "The details are accurate. Even the number of bristles on the antennae is correct. What was your major?" Lin Feng said, "I never studied it. I just squatted and looked." The old man was stunned for a moment, then laughed. "Squatted and looked? For how long?" Lin Feng thought for a bit. "A few days." The old man stood up, walked to the microscope, squatted down, and peered in. He adjusted the focus and saw the moss sporangia. He adjusted it further and saw the spores inside the sporangia. He watched for fifteen minutes without saying a word. The cat squatted nearby, tilting its head to look at him, and reached out a paw to bat at his shoelaces. The old man ignored it and continued watching. The cat batted again, and the old man still ignored it. The cat gave up and squatted to the side, the tip of its tail twitching slightly.

The old man finally stood up and looked at Lin Feng. "This microscope's magnification isn't high enough. But being able to see so much detail shows you know how to use it." He took a business card from his pocket and handed it to Lin Feng. The card read: "Chen Weiyuan, Researcher at the Natural History Museum, Retired." Lin Feng looked at the card, then at the old man. "What are you doing in Xinfeng Town?" Chen Weiyuan said, "Just passing through. I heard there was a wall here covered in letters. I came to see the letters, but I ended up seeing your drawings." He pointed to the microscopic drawings on the wall. "These drawings are even better than the letters." Lin Feng remained squatting and didn't speak. Chen Weiyuan squatted down too, and the two of them squatted in front of the microscope like two frogs. The cat squatted in the middle, looking at Lin Feng and then at Chen Weiyuan.

Chen Weiyuan took something out of his bag—a small iron box. He opened it to reveal a thin glass slide inside. On the slide was a small leaf, dried and yellowed. He placed the slide under the microscope and adjusted the focus. "Guess what this is?" Lin Feng leaned in to look. The leaf's cells were clearly visible, the cell walls like brick walls and the nuclei like black pebbles. But this wasn't an ordinary leaf—inside the cells were spirals, like springs or snail shells. Lin Feng looked for a long time. "This isn't a leaf. It's moss. Moss cells have chloroplasts, and the chloroplasts have spirals." Chen Weiyuan laughed. "You even recognize moss chloroplasts?" Lin Feng said, "I looked at moss a couple of days ago. I saw the sporangia then, but didn't see inside the cells. This piece of yours is sliced thin, so the inside of the cells is visible." Chen Weiyuan took another small iron box from his bag and opened it; inside were several glass slides, each with a thin slice of a plant pressed onto it. "These are all slices I made in the past. You can look at them, but you can't take them away." Lin Feng took the iron box and placed the slides under the microscope one by one. He saw the needle cells of a pine tree, round like a cluster of grapes; he saw the root cells of a dandelion, long and thin like noodles; he saw the mycelia of a mushroom, thread-like like a spiderweb. For every slide he viewed, he picked up a pen and drew it on a piece of white paper. Chen Weiyuan squatted beside him, watching him draw and nodding from time to time. "Your hand is very steady when you draw. The lines are accurate. The proportions are correct." Lin Feng didn't look up. "Practiced while squatting. My hand doesn't shake." The cat jumped onto Chen Weiyuan's lap, curled into a ball, and closed its eyes. Chen Weiyuan stroked the cat's head. "Is it yours?" Lin Feng said, "It came on its own." Chen Weiyuan smiled. "It chose you." Lin Feng said, "It chose the tree pit. Not the person. As long as the tree pit is here, it will be here."

In the afternoon, Old Zhou came to deliver letters. He parked his car at the church entrance and saw an old man squatting next to Lin Feng, with the cat on the old man's lap. He was stunned for a moment, walked over, and squatted on the other side. "Who is this?" Lin Feng said, "Chen Weiyuan. From the Natural History Museum, retired. He came to see the letters, saw the drawings, and then squatted down." Old Zhou fished a letter out of his bag and handed it to Lin Feng. "Yours." Lin Feng opened it; there was only one sheet of paper inside, with a single line of text: "Lin Feng, someone has seen your drawings. He looked at them very seriously." There was no signature. Lin Feng folded the letter, put it in his pocket, and continued drawing. He was drawing mushroom mycelia, which were like hair, individual strands entwined with each other. Chen Weiyuan looked at his drawing and said, "The intersection of the mycelia has clamp connections. You drew them." Lin Feng said, "I saw them, so I drew them." Chen Weiyuan took something out of his pocket and handed it to Lin Feng. "A gift for you." It was a pair of stainless steel tweezers with very fine tips, as thin as needles. Lin Feng took them and picked up a leaf; he placed it under the microscope, and the leaf didn't budge—it was steady. He looked up at Chen Weiyuan. "How many years have you used these?" Chen Weiyuan said, "Forty years. I'm retired now and have no use for them. You keep them." Lin Feng put the tweezers in his pocket, squatted on the ground, and drew a portrait for Chen Weiyuan. It was Chen Weiyuan's profile—white hair, thick glasses, squatting with a cat on his lap. Chen Weiyuan looked at the drawing and laughed. "You even drew the wrinkles on my face." Lin Feng said, "I saw them, so I drew them." Chen Weiyuan peeled the drawing off the wall, folded it, and put it in his pocket. He stood up and brushed off his pants. "I should go." The cat jumped off his lap and stretched. Lin Feng also stood up. "Will you come back?" Chen Weiyuan thought for a bit. "Perhaps. Once you've finished looking at those slides, I'll come back to see your drawings." He got into the old car and started the engine; it sputtered and roared as he drove away. The cat squatted by the roadside, watching the car's receding figure, the tip of its tail twitching slightly. Lin Feng squatted next to the cat and also watched the car disappear.

Margaret came out of the Restaurant and saw Lin Feng and the cat squatting by the roadside, staring at the end of the road. She walked over and squatted beside them. "Did that person leave?" Lin Feng nodded. "He left." Margaret asked, "Will he come back?" Lin Feng said, "Yes. He has to take the slides back. He lent them to me; they weren't a gift." Margaret smiled. "Are you reluctant to see him go?" Lin Feng said, "I'm reluctant to part with those slides. I haven't finished drawing the things inside. Once I'm done, I'll return them." Margaret stood up and walked back to the Restaurant. Lin Feng squatted by the roadside for a while longer, then stood up, walked back to the church entrance, and continued drawing. The cat followed him, jumped onto the awning, and squatted in front of the telescope to look into the distance. Chen Weiyuan's car had long since disappeared, but the cat was still watching. Lin Feng looked up at the cat. "Can you still see it?" The cat didn't answer, but it pricked up Ear and turned them as if listening for something. Lin Feng lowered his head and continued drawing the mycelia.

In the evening, Lin Feng sat on the steps of the Restaurant entrance. He wasn't squatting; he was sitting. Margaret came out carrying a plate of mushrooms and sat beside him. The two of them sat there, looking at the sky. The stars lit up one by one, just like yesterday. The cat jumped down from the awning, 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 began to purr. Margaret looked at the cat. "It spent a long time looking into the distance today." Lin Feng said, "It might have been looking at that old man. The old man is gone, but it was still looking." Margaret asked, "Will you still draw tomorrow?" Lin Feng nodded. "Yes. There's still so much I haven't finished. Pine needles, dandelion roots, mushroom mycelia." Margaret smiled. "You'll never finish." Lin Feng said, "If I can't finish, I'll just draw slowly. I'll draw until the day I have to return the slides." The wind blew, carrying the cool scent of the glass slides, the metallic smell of the stainless steel tweezers, the aroma of coffee, and the fresh sweetness of mushrooms. Lin Feng closed his eyes and took a sniff. He opened his eyes, stood up, and brushed off his pants. "I'm going to sleep." Margaret also stood up. "When you draw tomorrow, I'll help you pour water." Lin Feng nodded. "Okay." He turned and walked into the Restaurant, and Margaret followed behind him. The door closed, and the lights went out. The cat jumped down from the steps, walked back into the awning, jumped onto the rocking chair, curled up on the blue cloth, and closed its eyes. The rocking chair swayed slowly, the windmill turned slowly, and the microscope stood at the church entrance, its tube pointed toward the night sky. The moon emerged from behind the clouds, casting the microscope's shadow on the ground like a tiny observatory. The wind blew, and the shadow wavered but did not dissipate. Lin Feng stood in the Restaurant, looking out the window. He saw the shadow of the microscope, the shadow of the telescope, and the shadow of the windmill. He watched for a long time, then pulled the curtains and went to sleep.

[Chapter 168 End]