67: Chapter 67 Going Home

The cheers at the courthouse entrance were gradually left behind.

Thirteen hundred people slowly left Manhattan, left behind those high-rises, those blinding camera flashes, and those reporters still frantically pressing their shutters.

Some people looked back. The high-rises were still there, lit up, but they were no longer so close. Like a group of giants, standing behind, watching them go.

George walked at the very front. He was still cradling that mushroom in his hands; it was already a mangled mess, soft and limp, with black edges, and sap dripping onto his hands, but he refused to throw it away. Every few steps, he would look down at it, as if looking at a sleeping child.

Edna walked beside him, leaning on her cane, her back straight. When she walked faster, the cane tapped quickly—clack, clack, clack—like it was keeping time. She didn't look back, keeping her eyes fixed ahead.

Mike was driving, his car window rolled down, his arm resting outside. The wind blew in, making his sparse hair even messier, but he didn't care. He was humming a song; you couldn't tell what the tune was, but he was humming it with great gusto. As he hummed, people in the cars behind started humming along, gradually turning into a chorus for the entire convoy.

Sam sat in the back, holding his guitar. He lightly plucked the strings, playing a new melody—it didn't have a name yet, but the tune was light, like wind blowing through a wheat field, like raindrops falling on the surface of water. He would play for a while, stop, think, and then continue playing.

Jenny held those letters in her arms, with three wooden boxes placed under her seat. She looked down at the letters, the corners of her mouth constantly curled up. The letter paper was stacked neatly inside the boxes, each one still carrying the warmth of that person.

Chris was driving another car, which was loaded with the remaining mushrooms. There weren't many mushrooms left, just a few wilted ones huddled at the bottom of the basket. But even so, he talked to them while driving: "We're going home, going home. You've seen the big world this time, you can brag to the other mushrooms when we get back." As he spoke, he laughed to himself first.

Alex and Rachel were in the same car, with Rachel asleep on Alex's shoulder. Alex wasn't sleeping; he looked at the passing scenery outside the window, thinking about the red dots on the happiness map. Those red dots were still there; not one had gone out.

Tony held that book, flipping to a certain page. On that page, there was a tear stain that had already dried, but the paper was wrinkled, and you could feel it when you touched it. He looked at that tear stain for a long time, then closed the book and held it to his chest.

Yuki held her computer, the screen lit up. That mysterious administrator account hadn't sent any more messages. But she knew he was still watching. She occasionally looked down at the screen; there was nothing on it, but she couldn't help but look.

The young mother holding her baby—the child was asleep. She held the baby a little tighter and whispered: "Baby, we're going home. Going back to Xinfeng Town. There are mushrooms there you haven't seen, songs you haven't heard, and grandparents you haven't met." The child slept soundly, little mouth slightly open, occasionally smacking their lips.

Old Mrs. Jack from Starry Sky Town was sitting in the passenger seat of a pickup truck. She placed that photo on her lap, her fingers gently stroking the face in the photo. She would stroke it for a while, then look out the window for a while. There was nothing outside the window, only trees and farmland receding. But she seemed to be looking at something else.

Lin Feng sat in the back of an old pickup truck, looking out the window.

Margaret sat beside him.

"Lin Feng."

Lin Feng turned to look at her.

Margaret asked: "Are you tired?"

Lin Feng thought for a moment and said:

"Not tired."

Margaret laughed: "Liar."

Lin Feng laughed too.

—

The convoy drove for fourteen hours.

As long as when they came.

But this time, no one felt tired.

Dave from Ohio was driving, following the taillights in front, driving on and on. His eyes were a bit sore, but he wasn't sleepy. He remembered the first time he went to Xinfeng Town; he had driven just like this, for ten hours. At that time, he didn't know what was there, only hearing people say that a Chinese man could make a deserted mining town come alive.

Now he knew.

Tom from West Virginia was holding his camera, taking pictures of the scenery flashing by outside the window. He didn't know if he would use this footage, but he just wanted to shoot. Shooting the trees, the farmland, the road signs, the distant mountains. When he got tired of shooting, he would flip through the photos in his camera—the faces of those people at the courthouse entrance, the tears of those in the courtroom, the smiles of those at the moment the verdict was read.

That group of old miners from Kentucky was squeezed into that beat-up van. Some were asleep, some were awake. The one who was awake kept looking out the window. He was the son of that eighty-seven-year-old man, also a miner. He looked at the mountains outside the window and thought: Almost home.

Edna's daughter-in-law from Pennsylvania was driving, with Edna sitting beside her. Edna had her eyes closed, not knowing if she was asleep or thinking about something. The daughter-in-law would occasionally turn to look at her, and seeing the corners of her mouth curled up, she knew she was fine.

When it got dark, they saw those familiar mountains again.

George was the first to see them. He pointed ahead and shouted:

"We're here!"

The sound exploded in the car, and everyone looked out the windows.

Those mountains lay quietly under the moonlight, like sleeping giants. The outline of the ridges was etched against the deep blue sky, line by line, as if someone had drawn them with a pen.

Some people started cheering.

Some people started singing.

Some people started crying.

Thirteen hundred people, driving their cars, headed toward those mountains.

—

Xinfeng Town had arrived.

The road sign at the entrance of the town was still standing there. The moonlight shone on it, and the words were clear:

[Xinfeng Town, Population 843]

The small line of text below was also still there:

[Still Growing]

George was the first to get out of the car. He stood under the road sign, looking at those words for a long time.

Then he took that rotted mushroom out of his pocket and gently placed it under the road sign.

"I'll leave this for you," he said.

That mushroom no longer looked like its original self, just a soft, limp lump, covered in mud and sweat stains. But George looked at it as if he were looking at some treasure.

Edna leaned on her cane and slowly walked over. She stood beside George, looked at the mushroom, and smiled.

"Plant it here," she said, "it will grow again next year."

George nodded.

Mike moved a case of wine off the car. The wine was long gone, but the case remained. He placed the case next to the mushroom and said:

"We'll drink next time. Next time we win, we'll drink our fill."

Sam stood in the crowd, holding his guitar. He lightly plucked a string, playing a single note. That sound drifted in the night wind, traveling very far. After playing, he nodded toward the direction where the sound disappeared.

Jenny moved those letters off the car. Three wooden boxes, stacked one by one. She looked at the boxes and said:

"We're back. Everyone is back."

Chris moved the last basket of mushrooms off the car. There were only a few mushrooms left, wilted, but he still cradled them. He walked to the farm entrance, put the basket down, and shouted inside:

"I'm back! The mushrooms are back too!"

There was no answer from inside, only the sound of the wind blowing through the mushroom racks. But Chris felt that those mushrooms were welcoming him.

Alex and Rachel stood in front of the computer. The screen was lit, and the happiness map was still there. Those red dots were shining one by one, like stars, like fireflies, like lights someone had lit in the dark night.

Rachel pointed to Xinfeng Town on the screen and said:

"It's here."

Alex nodded.

Tony stood under the old locust tree. He looked up at the tree for a long time. Moonlight leaked through the gaps in the leaves and fell on his face, mottled and dappled.

He took out that book, opened it, and looking at a certain page, said softly:

"We're here."

On that page, there was a tear stain.

Yuki stood at the church entrance. She held her computer; on the screen, that mysterious administrator account was still lit.

It sent a message:

[I saw it.]

Only four words.

But Yuki stared at those four words for a long time.

She replied with one word:

[Mm.]

The other party didn't reply again.

But she knew he had seen it.

The young mother holding her baby stood on the main street. The child was awake, eyes open, looking at this strange place. Under the moonlight, those low houses, those quiet streets, those people standing everywhere, all looked like a painting.

"Baby," she said, "this is Xinfeng Town."

The child looked at her face and smiled.

Old Mrs. Jack from Starry Sky Town was the last to get out of the car. She stood at the town entrance, looking at that road sign, looking at those words.

She didn't speak.

But her hand was stroking the photo in her pocket.

In the photo, Jack was wearing a borrowed big suit, the sleeves covering half his hands, smiling foolishly.

She smiled too.

- - -

Thirteen hundred people slowly dispersed.

Some went back to their own cars, some found places to set up tents, some went to the church, some to the bar, some to the farm.

Mike opened the door to the bar. As soon as the door was pushed open, a familiar smell rushed over—wood, wine, and a little dust. He stood at the door, sniffed, and said:

"It's better here."

Sam followed him in and sat in that old spot. He picked up his guitar and began to play "Dandelion Song." The sound of the guitar echoed in the empty bar, louder and better than usual.

Jenny carried those three wooden boxes into the church. She placed the boxes next to the "Ear" sculpture, opened them one by one, took out the letters, and reorganized them. As she sorted them, she softly recited those names.

Chris walked into the farm. He turned on the lights; the rows of mushroom racks shimmered with a soft light under the illumination. He crouched down, touched the nearest few mushrooms, and said:

"Did you miss me?"

Of course, the mushrooms wouldn't answer. But he felt they had moved.

Alex and Rachel sat in front of the computer, staring at the screen. The red dots on the happiness map were still shining. The messages were still increasing. Some wrote "Welcome back," some wrote "We won," some wrote "Long live Xinfeng Town."

Tony sat under the old locust tree, leaning against the trunk. The book was spread open on his lap, but he wasn't reading. He looked at the people in the distance, looking at their shadows, looking at the moonlight.

Yuki sat on the steps at the church entrance, holding her computer. On the screen, that mysterious administrator account hadn't sent any more messages. But she didn't turn off the computer, just left it on like that.

The young mother holding her baby found an open space, spread a blanket, and placed the child on it. The child was already asleep, their little face very white in the moonlight. She sat beside them, looking at the child, the corners of her mouth curled up.

Old Mrs. Jack from Starry Sky Town stood at the town entrance, not moving the whole time. She looked at that road sign, looking at those words.

Then she turned around, faced the distant starry sky, and whispered:

"Old man, I'm home."

--

George was still standing under the road sign.

Edna was still standing beside him.

Neither of them spoke.

After a long time, George spoke:

"Edna."

Edna turned to look at him.

George said: "My old partner came back today too."

Edna was stunned for a moment: "Where?"

George pointed to his chest:

"Here. Ever since we came back from New York, he's been right here."

Edna was silent for three seconds.

Then she said: "Mine is too."

George looked at her.

Edna smiled:

"When I came out of the courtroom, he came. He followed me the whole way, sat beside me, watched me laugh, watched me cry, watched my daughter-in-law call me Mom."

Her eyes were red, but the corners of her mouth were curled up.

George reached out and patted her shoulder.

Two old people, standing in the moonlight, standing next to that road sign.

Neither of them spoke again.

---

Lin Feng crouched under the old locust tree.

That old locust tree was the same as when he left. Some leaves had fallen, but it was still there. The carvings on the trunk were still there too.

Margaret walked over and crouched beside him.

She was carrying a plate of mushrooms. Fresh out of the pot, still steaming.

"Hungry?"

Lin Feng took the plate and nodded.

He looked down and ate the mushrooms, one by one, chewing very slowly.

Margaret watched those people—George and Edna standing under the road sign, Mike wiping the bar in the bar, Sam playing the guitar, Jenny sorting the letters, Chris watering in the farm, Alex and Rachel typing at the computer, Tony leaning against the tree reading, Yuki sitting on the steps, the young mother watching over her sleeping child, Old Mrs. Jack standing at the town entrance.

She said softly:

"Everyone is back."

Lin Feng swallowed the mushroom in his mouth and said:

"Mm."

Margaret asked: "What next?"

Lin Feng looked at those people in the distance.

George started walking back, Edna following him. Lights turned on in Mike's bar. Sam's guitar music drifted over. Jenny was holding the letters, sitting at the church entrance. Chris walked out of the farm, holding a freshly picked mushroom in his hand. Alex and Rachel were staring at the screen, not knowing what they were laughing at. Tony closed his book and stood up. Yuki looked up, looking at the moon. The young mother picked up her child and rocked them gently. Old Mrs. Jack turned around and walked slowly into the town.

He watched them.

Watched for a long time.

Then he said:

"Keep crouching."

Margaret was stunned for a moment.

Lin Feng pointed to those people:

"They move, I crouch and watch. They don't move, I crouch and wait."

He paused, the corners of his mouth curling up:

"Anyway, there's someone to keep me company."

Margaret laughed.

She stood up and walked toward the restaurant. After two steps, she looked back:

"I'm going to make mushrooms. Call me if you're hungry."

Lin Feng nodded.

He crouched there, watching those people.

Moonlight fell on him, falling on that flattened straw. The straw was already chewed into a mess, flat and soft, but he was still holding it between his lips.

In the distance, someone was singing. Someone was laughing. Someone was crying. Someone was talking. Someone was spacing out. Someone was asleep.

The leaves of the old locust tree rustled in the wind.

The corners of Lin Feng's mouth were curled up.

[Chapter 67: End]