66: Chapter 66 Verdict

That night, no one in the motel slept.

It wasn't that they couldn't sleep. They just didn't want to.

Sam's guitar never stopped, echoing from one end of the hallway to the other. He played song after song, from miners' songs to mushroom songs, from "The Dandelion Song" to tunes without names. Some sang along, some just listened. The hallway was packed with people; some sitting, some leaning against the walls, some lying on the floor—everyone was listening.

Mike had run out of alcohol long ago, so he poured mineral water into cups, one for each person, calling it a "New York Special." Someone took a sip and frowned: "Isn't this just water?" Mike smiled: "What's wrong with water? Water quenches thirst, and wine gives courage. We need both today."

Jenny read those letters over and over again. She sat by the window at the end of the hallway, reading them one by one by the light of the streetlamps. Every time she finished a letter, someone would whisper, "Received." When she read particularly well-written ones, people would applaud. When she read the truly tragic ones, people would cry. The letters were passed through the crowd, becoming wrinkled and stained, but no one minded. Someone said, "I've heard this letter three times already." The person next to them replied, "Then listen to it once more."

Chris roasted the last basket of mushrooms. The motel had no kitchen, so he found a corner in the backyard, built a simple stove with scavenged bricks, and started a fire. When the aroma of the mushrooms drifted up, someone leaned out of a window: "What smells so good?" Chris looked up and shouted, "Mushrooms from Xinfeng Town! Come down and eat!" That night, the backyard was crowded with people, each taking a small piece of mushroom and chewing slowly, reluctant to swallow.

George and Edna sat on the lobby sofa. The two elderly people leaned against each other, neither speaking. George still held that mushroom in his hand; it had withered beyond recognition, its edges turning black and soft, but he refused to let go. Edna glanced at him: "Still holding it?" George said, "Holding it. I have to show it to the judge tomorrow." Edna smiled and didn't say anything else.

The young mother holding the infant finally coaxed the child to sleep and gently laid them on the sofa. She was exhausted herself but didn't dare sleep, fearing the child would wake. An old lady nearby saw this, moved over, and patted her own lap: "Put the baby here and sleep for a while." The young mother was stunned for a moment, but the old lady had already taken the child into her arms, gently rocking them.

Old Lady Jack from Starry Sky Town sat by the window, staring outside. Someone asked her what she was looking at, and she said, "Watching for dawn." The person said, "It's still early." She replied, "Even if it's early, I want to watch. This is my first time in New York, and I want to see what dawn looks like here."

Tony had that book spread across his knees, but he hadn't turned a page in a long time. His gaze fell upon the people, looking at them one by one. He looked at George's hands, Edna's profile, Mike's bald head, Sam's guitar strings, Jenny's letter paper, Chris's fire, Alex and Rachel's shoulders leaning together, Yuki's glowing screen, the sleeping child, the old lady holding the child, and Jack by the window.

Alex and Rachel leaned against a corner. Rachel had fallen asleep, her head resting on Alex's shoulder. Alex wasn't sleeping; he just kept his eyes open, staring at the ceiling. There was a water stain on the ceiling shaped like a map. Alex stared at that stain, thinking of those red dots on the happiness map.

Chris crouched in a corner with his toolbox. The toolbox was open, the tools inside arranged neatly. Every now and then, he would look at one or touch another, as if chatting with old friends.

Yuki's computer was on, the screen's faint glow illuminating her face. That mysterious administrator account hadn't sent any more messages. But she knew he was watching. She stared at the account in a daze, thinking about many things—who he was, what he looked like, why he was always watching, and whether he would show up today.

Lin Feng was still crouching on the steps by the entrance.

Margaret sat beside him, wrapped in an old blanket borrowed from the motel. The blanket was red and faded from washing, but it was warm.

"Lin Feng."

Lin Feng turned his head to look at her.

Margaret said, "Before dawn, I want to tell you something."

Lin Feng waited.

Margaret looked at the distant skyline that was slowly brightening. New York's skyline was different from other places. There were too many tall buildings, cutting the sky into pieces. But when dawn broke, those tall buildings would light up first, like lighthouses.

"When my husband passed away, I thought my life was over," she said softly, as if talking to herself. "One person, guarding that broken-down restaurant until death. Every day opening, closing, wiping tables, collecting money. No one to talk to, no one looking at me, no one knowing I existed."

She paused:

"Then you came."

Lin Feng didn't speak.

Margaret continued, "The day you arrived, you were crouching by the restaurant entrance, dangling that straw from your mouth. I thought you were here to beg for a meal."

Lin Feng smiled.

Margaret smiled too. That smile looked very soft in the pre-dawn light.

"Only later did I realize you came to make people laugh."

She turned her head and looked at Lin Feng:

"No matter how the judgment goes today, I want to thank you."

Lin Feng was silent for three seconds.

Then he said:

"You're welcome."

The horizon in the distance began to turn white.

---

Dawn broke.

One thousand three hundred people walked out of that small motel and stood in the open space by the entrance.

Sunlight shone from the east, falling upon them. Some squinted, some shielded their eyes with their hands, and some just stood facing the light, motionless.

Raj stood at the motel entrance, watching them. The elderly Indian man hadn't slept last night either. He had helped boil water, fetch blankets, and look after the children. His wife hadn't slept either, brewing pot after pot of coffee in the kitchen.

George walked up to him and extended his hand:

"Thank you, Raj."

Raj shook his hand with a simple, honest smile:

"If you win, come back next time. If you lose, come back anyway. My place is cheap, after all."

George smiled.

Edna walked over and extended her hand as well. Raj shook her hand and said, "Ma'am, did you sleep well last night?" Edna said, "I didn't sleep." Raj said, "Me neither."

The one thousand three hundred people slowly walked toward the courthouse.

No one spoke.

But their footsteps were in unison.

Thump, thump, thump—like a drumbeat.

—

There were even more people at the courthouse entrance than yesterday.

Besides those one thousand three hundred people, there were more reporters, more onlookers, and more cameras.

FOXX's news vans had increased to five, their white bodies reflecting the sunlight. CNCN's reporters had been replaced by a new batch; yesterday's crew had gone for a shift change. ABCB's cameramen took the best spots, hoisting their equipment and waiting to capture the moment of the verdict.

People in the crowd were shouting slogans, holding signs, and using megaphones. The words on the signs were varied—"Give me back my happiness," "Oppose psychological manipulation," "Lin Feng, get out," "Xinfeng Town is a cult." People on both sides of the police line shouted insults at each other, the noise as chaotic as a wet market.

But those one thousand three hundred people just stood there quietly.

George stood at the very front, still cradling that mushroom. The mushroom had completely withered, its edges black and soft, but he still held it.

Edna stood beside him, her back ramrod straight. The wind ruffled her white hair, but she ignored it, just standing there.

Mike, Sam, Jenny, Chris, Alex, Rachel, Tony, and Yuki stood behind them.

Behind them were Dave from Ohio, Tom from West Virginia, those old miners from Kentucky, Edna's daughter-in-law from Pennsylvania, the young mother from Tennessee, Old Lady Jack from Starry Sky Town, and many others whose names were unknown.

One thousand three hundred people stood in silence.

Those shouting slogans yelled for a while, but when they realized no one was paying them any mind, their voices gradually grew quieter.

Those holding signs held them for a while until their arms grew sore, and they lowered them.

Those with megaphones grew tired of shouting and stopped.

Only those one thousand three hundred people remained standing.

—

The courthouse doors opened.

This time, everyone went inside.

The judge granted special permission—those one thousand three hundred people could stand behind the gallery, in the aisles, and in every available space.

Those who couldn't squeeze in stood at the doors and in the hallways. The hallways were also packed with people, a dense mass stretching from one end to the other.

When Lin Feng walked into the courtroom, he looked back.

One thousand three hundred people were packed tightly together.

He saw George. George was still cradling that mushroom, his eyes fixed on him.

He saw Edna. Edna's back was ramrod straight, and there was a glint of tears in her eyes.

He saw Mike. Mike's fists were clenched, his lips pressed into a thin line.

He saw Sam. Sam was holding his guitar, his fingers lightly plucking the strings without making a sound.

He saw Jenny. Jenny was holding those letters, pressing them to her chest.

He saw Chris. Chris was gripping his toolbox, his knuckles white.

He saw Alex and Rachel. Alex was holding Rachel's hand, gripping it tightly.

He saw Tony. Tony wasn't reading his book; he was just looking at him.

He saw Yuki. Yuki had her head down, her computer screen glowing.

He saw Dave from Ohio. Dave's work clothes were still stained with mud, and his eyes were wide.

He saw Tom from West Virginia. Tom was holding a camera, the lens pointed at him.

He saw the group of old miners from Kentucky. They stood in a row, supporting one another; the oldest, an eighty-seven-year-old man, leaned on a cane and squinted at him.

He saw Edna's daughter-in-law from Pennsylvania. She was supporting Edna, her eyes red.

He saw the young mother from Tennessee. She was holding her baby; the child was awake and also looking at him.

He saw Old Lady Jack from Starry Sky Town. She stood at the very back of the crowd, clutching that photograph.

He saw those whose names he didn't know. He had seen their faces, but didn't know them personally. He didn't know their names, but he remembered them.

They were all looking at him.

He turned around and sat down at the defense table.

—

When Judge Johnson entered, everyone stood up.

Today she wore her black judicial robes and gold-rimmed glasses. Her expression was even more serious than yesterday, but there were faint dark circles under her eyes—clearly, she hadn't slept well either.

She sat down and tapped her gavel:

"Please be seated."

Everyone sat down.

The courtroom was so quiet that one could hear the sound of breathing.

She opened the documents in front of her and looked at them for a long time.

The stack of documents was very thick, making a rustling sound as she turned them. She turned one page, then another, and another. She read every page very slowly.

No one in the courtroom moved.

George's palms began to sweat. He gripped the mushroom even tighter, the juices seeping out and staining his hand.

Edna's back grew even straighter, like a taut string.

Mike's fists clenched so hard they creaked.

Sam's fingers rested on the strings, not daring to move.

Jenny held the letters tighter, the paper rustling as she crumpled it.

Chris's breathing became heavy, his chest heaving.

Alex and Rachel's hands were joined, their knuckles white from the grip.

Tony's mouth tightened, not upturned as it usually was.

Yuki kept her head down; the screen was on, but she wasn't looking. Her eyes were closed.

The young mother holding the infant held the child even closer. Sensing something, the child opened their eyes, looked around, and fell back asleep.

[part:gemini-3.1-flash-lite]

Old Mrs. Jack from Starry Sky Town clutched that photo in her hand, clutching it until it felt hot.

Judge Johnson finally looked up.

She looked at those on the plaintiff's side, looked at those on the defendant's side, and looked at the one thousand three hundred people in the gallery.

She spoke.

"In the twenty years I have presided over cases, I have never seen one like this."

Her voice was not loud, but every word was clear, like nails being driven into everyone's heart.

"The plaintiffs say that the defendants used emotional manipulation tactics to harm public mental health. They say the Xinfeng Town model is addictive, causes people to lose the ability to think independently, and makes them unable to leave that place."

She paused.

"The defendants say they did not manipulate anyone. They say those people laugh because they want to laugh. They sing because they want to sing. They write letters because they want to write."

She looked at the plaintiff's bench: "You presented a mountain of evidence—data, charts, expert testimony, psychological theories. You say that according to market laws, psychological principles, and all scientific standards, the Xinfeng Town model is wrong, harmful, and should be banned."

She looked at the defendant's bench again: "You did not present any data. You only produced a withered mushroom, several boxes of letters, a guitar, and one thousand three hundred people."

She stood up, walked to the front of the judge's bench, and looked at those people.

"Yesterday, those one thousand three hundred people stood here, speaking one by one. They had no data, no charts, no expert testimony. They only said one thing—they laughed in Xinfeng Town."

She paused. "I have presided over cases for twenty years and have seen countless pieces of evidence. Some evidence is true, some is false. Some evidence looks real but is actually false. Some evidence looks false but is actually true."

She turned around and looked at the plaintiff's bench: "Is your data true?"

On the plaintiff's bench, no one answered. Mr. B's face was livid. Mrs. V's lips were pressed into a thin line. Harold adjusted his glasses, expressionless.

She looked at the defendant's bench again: "Is their laughter true?"

On the defendant's bench, no one answered either. But she saw George nod. Edna nodded. Mike, Sam, Jenny, Chris, Alex, Rachel, Tony, and Yuki all nodded.

And those one thousand three hundred people all nodded. The nodding movement was light, but one thousand three hundred people nodding simultaneously was like a breeze blowing across a wheat field.

Judge Johnson smiled. That smile was different from usual. It wasn't professional; it welled up from her eyes.

She walked back to the judge's bench and sat down. Then she tapped the gavel. "This court hereby passes judgment—"

Everyone was holding their breath. George's palms were full of sweat. Edna's eyes were wide open. Mike's fists were clenched until they hurt. Sam's fingers stopped on the strings, forgetting to let go. Jenny pressed those letters to her chest, her heart beating as fast as a drum. Chris's breathing stopped. Alex and Rachel's hands were gripped painfully tight. Tony's lips tightened. Yuki opened her eyes.

The young mother holding her baby hugged the child tighter. The baby woke up, opened its eyes, and looked at the courtroom. Old Mrs. Jack from Starry Sky Town held up that photo, facing the judge.

"The plaintiffs, including Backstone Fund, Risersize Capital, Cestwood Partner, and ten other companies, sued the defendants Lin Feng, the Xinfeng Town Residents' Committee, and the operators of the happiness map website, alleging charges of commercial fraud, illegal fundraising, intellectual property infringement, unfair competition, and using emotional manipulation tactics to harm public mental health—"

She paused. The courtroom was as quiet as a grave. Then she said: "All charges, insufficient evidence. Dismissed."

The courtroom was silent for three seconds. Then someone started clapping. It was George. He stood in the gallery, the first to applaud. He was still holding that mushroom, its juice splattering out, but he didn't care. He clapped hard, beat by beat, like playing a drum.

Next was Edna. She leaned on her cane, clapping her hands one by one. The cane tapped on the floor, making a thumping sound.

Next was Mike. He raised his fist and roared. The sound echoed in the courtroom, startling the person next to him.

Next was Sam. He held his guitar above his head and clapped hard. The guitar wobbled above his head, and the strings hummed.

Next was Jenny. She hugged those letters to her chest, tears streaming down, but she was smiling. Tears dripped onto the letter paper, blooming into little water spots.

Next was Chris. He crouched on the ground, covering his face with both hands, his shoulders heaving. His toolbox was beside him, the tools inside shaking along with him.

Next were Alex and Rachel. They hugged each other, crying and laughing. Rachel's tears smeared on Alex's clothes, and Alex's snot smeared on Rachel's hair, but no one minded.

Next was Tony. His lips were curled up, and he was clapping gently. That book was placed on his knees, and at some point, a tear had landed on the cover.

Next was Yuki. She lowered her head, her shoulders heaving. On the screen, that mysterious administrator account sent a line of text: [I saw it.] She didn't reply. She raised her head and looked at the cheering people in the courtroom.

Next were those one thousand three hundred people. They clapped, cheered, some cried, some laughed, some did both. The applause echoed in the courtroom, bouncing off the walls and back again, deafeningly loud.

Dave from Ohio jumped up and hugged the person next to him. He didn't know that person, but he hugged them tightly.

Tom from West Virginia held up his camera, the lens sweeping over those cheering people. His hands were shaking, but he didn't stop. He wanted to capture it, to let everyone see.

That group of old miners from Kentucky hugged each other. The oldest one, an eighty-seven-year-old man, had tears streaming down, mixing into his wrinkles, shimmering.

Edna's daughter-in-law from Pennsylvania hugged Edna and called out "Mom." Edna froze for a moment, then hugged her back. For the first time in twenty years.

The young mother from Tennessee held her baby up and shouted to the ceiling: "Baby, we won!" The baby laughed, giggling, the sound very light, but in the cheering, everyone heard it.

Old Mrs. Jack from Starry Sky Town stood at the back of the crowd, held up that photo, and said to the air: "Old man, did you see? We won." The wind blew in from the window, ruffling her white hair. But she knew that was him answering.

On the plaintiff's bench, those people were livid. Mr. B stood up, said nothing, turned, and walked away. His custom suit was jostled in the crowd, and the platinum button on his cuff was knocked off, but he didn't even pick it up.

Mrs. V followed behind, her high heels clicking loudly. Her makeup was ruined by sweat, and her eyeshadow was smudged. Harold adjusted his glasses and took a look at the defendant's bench. His gaze lingered on Lin Feng for three seconds, then he left too. No one knew what that last look meant.

William was the last to stand up. He walked through the cheering crowd, step by step, to Lin Feng. Lin Feng looked up at him. William was silent for three seconds. His lips moved, wanting to say something, but he didn't. Then he spoke: "I watched those three minutes. I didn't understand it. But I know one thing now—" He paused: "You won."

Lin Feng nodded. William turned and walked away. His back disappeared into the crowd, and no one noticed him. But Lin Feng saw that as he walked away, the corners of his mouth curled up.

The crowd surged out of the courtroom and to the entrance. The sunlight shone on their faces, dazzlingly bright. Reporters rushed up, thrusting microphones toward everyone. Cameras aimed at everyone, and flashbulbs flashed in a sea of light.

George held up that withered mushroom to the camera. The mushroom was already rotting, and the juice dripped onto his hand, but he didn't care. He said: "This, I brought for the judge to see. She saw it."

Edna said to the camera: "If my old man were alive, he would definitely be happy. If he were alive, I would make him grow mushrooms too."

Mike shouted to the camera: "We won! Let's go back and drink! It's on me! We'll drink until tomorrow morning!"

Sam hugged his guitar and played a cheerful melody. The melody floated through the crowd, with some humming along and others singing along.

Jenny hugged those letters and said to the camera: "These letters are all real. You can look at them. Anyone who wants to see them, I will let them."

Chris stood in the crowd, grinning at the camera. Someone asked him what he was laughing at, and he said: "I don't know, I just want to laugh."

Alex and Rachel made a peace sign at the camera. The two young people still had tear tracks on their faces, but they smiled more brightly than anyone.

Tony stood at the edge of the crowd, not speaking, but the corners of his mouth were curled up. Someone asked him why he wasn't speaking, and he said: "They've already said everything that needed to be said."

Yuki stood further away, her computer open. On the screen, that mysterious administrator account sent a message: [I saw it.] She replied with one word: [Yeah.] The other party didn't reply again. But she knew that he saw it.

The young mother holding her baby held the child up to the camera: "Baby, we won. When you grow up, Mom will tell you that today, here, one thousand three hundred people won." The baby laughed.

Old Mrs. Jack from Starry Sky Town stood at the very edge of the crowd, watching the commotion. Someone asked her: "Old lady, why don't you go over?" She shook her head: "I'm fine right here. The old man can see." She held up that photo to the camera. In the photo, Jack was wearing a borrowed oversized suit, the sleeves covering half his hands, smiling foolishly. She smiled too.

Lin Feng stood on the steps of the courthouse, looking at those people. The sunlight shone on him, warm and pleasant. Margaret stood beside him. "Lin Feng." Lin Feng turned to look at her. Margaret said: "We won." Lin Feng nodded. Margaret asked: "Don't you want to say something?"

Lin Feng thought for a moment and said: "I have one sentence." Margaret waited. Lin Feng looked at those people—George, Edna, Mike, Sam, Jenny, Chris, Alex, Rachel, Tony, Yuki, Dave from Ohio, Tom from West Virginia, that group of old miners from Kentucky, Edna's daughter-in-law from Pennsylvania, that young mother from Tennessee, Old Mrs. Jack from Starry Sky Town, and those whose names he couldn't recall. One thousand three hundred people, laughing, crying, making a ruckus. The sunlight fell on them, dazzlingly bright. He said: "It's time to go back."

Margaret was stunned. Lin Feng pointed to the west: "Xinfeng Town is still waiting." Margaret followed his finger and looked. The sky to the west was a clear, bright blue. She smiled. "Then let's go back."

[Chapter 66 End]