80: Chapter 80 The Walls of Xinfeng Town

It was raining the day Eric's letter, "To everyone who writes letters," arrived in Xinfeng Town.

Jenny was in the church sorting mail when she heard a commotion at the door and looked up.

The old postman stood at the door, soaked to the bone, holding up an envelope. "For Xinfeng Town. For everyone."

Jenny took it. The words "Xinfeng Town" were written on the envelope in a crooked hand, but pressed so firmly that the pen nib had almost punctured the paper.

She opened it, and inside was just a single sheet of paper with one line of text:

"My name is Eric. I'm twenty-three. I didn't graduate college. I'm growing mushrooms. Today, I saw you all. In those letters. Every word you wrote, I saw."

Jenny stared at the line for a long time. Then she stood up, walked outside the church, stood in the rain, and shouted toward the farm, "George!"

George poked his head out from the mushroom racks. Jenny held up the letter; rain hit the paper, and the ink began to blur. But she didn't go inside; she just stood there in the rain, holding the letter up.

George ran over, took the letter, and looked down. Rainwater dripped from his eyebrows onto the paper, causing the name "Eric" to bleed slightly. He quickly shielded it with his hand, as if protecting a newly sprouted mushroom.

"This kid," he said, "has written again."

That night, the rain stopped. The church was full of people.

George stood before the altar, holding the letter. The paper had been soaked by the rain, its corners curled, and the writing was a bit blurry, but every word was still legible. He read it once, then read it again. After he finished, the church remained silent for a long time.

Mike was the first to speak: "He wrote again." Sam was second: "He saw us." Jenny was third: "He said he saw us."

Chris crouched in the corner, saying nothing. But he reached into his pocket and touched the dried mushroom. It was the first one Henry had given him, and he had carried it with him ever since.

Tony sat on a bench with the book spread across his knees. He wasn't reading; he was looking at the letter. He stared for a long time, then spoke, his voice soft, yet everyone could hear him:

"After seeing himself, he has started to see others."

George turned to look at him.

Tony continued: "When he wrote the first letter, he wrote, 'I saw myself.' The second letter said, 'I saw the light you spoke of.' The third letter says, 'I saw you all.'"

He paused, looking at everyone:

"He is growing up."

The church was silent again. Then Edna stood up with her cane, walked to the altar, and took the letter from George. She looked at the crooked handwriting for a long time. There were spots on the paper where the rain had caused the ink to bleed, and she pressed the letter against her chest, as if holding a person.

"This child," she said, "I want to see him."

The next morning, Edna went to find Lin Feng.

Lin Feng was crouching under the old locust tree with a straw in his mouth, watching the mushroom racks in the distance. Margaret walked over carrying a plate of mushrooms and crouched beside him. The two of them ate mushrooms, watching the sun slowly rise.

Edna walked over with her cane and stood before them.

"Lin Feng."

Lin Feng looked up at her.

Edna said: "I want to go to Millfield."

Lin Feng didn't speak.

Edna continued: "To see that child who writes the letters."

Margaret was stunned. "You're going alone?"

Edna looked at her: "George will accompany me."

George walked out of the farm and stood beside Edna. He was holding a mushroom in his hand, pure white and covered in dew.

"I'll go with her," he said.

Lin Feng looked at them for three seconds. Then he lowered his head and continued eating his mushroom.

"Then go."

The day George and Edna set off, a line of people stood at the edge of town.

Mike handed them a flask of wine. "Drink it on the road."

Sam handed his guitar to George. "Take it, play a song for that kid."

Jenny took a letter out of a box and handed it to Edna. "This is the first letter Eric wrote. Take it to him."

Chris pulled the dried mushroom from his pocket, looked at it for a long time, then shoved it into George's hand. "Take this to him, too."

Tony stood behind the crowd, silent. But he looked at George and Edna and nodded.

Yuki walked over and handed Edna a note. Edna took it and read it; there was only one line of text on the note:

"Tell him I saw him."

Edna put the note in her pocket, placing it with the letter. She turned around, leaned on her cane, and walked slowly toward the car. George followed behind, holding the mushroom in his hand, the flask of wine tucked against his chest, and the dried mushroom stuffed in his pocket. He walked slowly, but steadily.

The drive took three hours. George drove, and Edna sat in the passenger seat. Neither of them spoke. The scenery outside the window changed from mountains to trees, from trees to farmland, and from farmland to barren hills. Then they saw the sign for Millfield.

The road sign at the edge of town read: "Millfield, Population 412." Below it was a line of smaller text: "Home of Mushrooms."

George parked the car on the side of the road and walked into town with Edna. The main street wasn't long, and there were shops open on both sides. People were walking back and forth, some were sunning themselves by the roadside, and others were chatting. It looked much like Xinfeng Town when it was just starting out.

Edna stood in the middle of the main street, looking around. "This town," she said, "is just like we used to be."

George nodded.

A young man walked over, looking at them. "Who are you looking for?"

Edna said: "We're looking for Eric."

The young man was stunned for a moment. "Eric? He's at the farm."

Eric was watering the farm. He crouched in front of the racks, watering them one by one. The mushrooms were growing well, in thick clusters, shining white. He watered them slowly, making sure each one got enough.

Sarah was fertilizing nearby and saw two people walk in. An old man and an old woman. The old man held a mushroom in his hand, and the old woman leaned on a cane, walking very slowly.

"Eric," Sarah called out, "someone is here to see you."

Eric looked up. He saw the mushroom in the old man's hand, pure white, exactly like the ones he grew. He saw the old woman, her back straight, her eyes bright. He was stunned for a moment, then stood up.

George walked up to him and handed him the mushroom.

"For you," he said.

Eric took it. The mushroom was white and covered in dew, just like the ones he grew. But he felt this one was different. This one came from Xinfeng Town, from George's hand.

Edna stood beside George, looking at Eric. "Are you Eric?"

Eric nodded.

Edna stared at him for a long time. Then she pulled the letter from her pocket and handed it to him. "This is the first one you wrote."

Eric took it. The paper had been soaked by the rain, its corners curled, the handwriting a bit blurry. He recognized his own writing, crooked, like a child just learning to write. It was the first letter he had written, sent to Xinfeng Town, to someone who could see. He had thought no one would reply.

Edna looked into his eyes and said: "Everything you wrote, I saw."

Eric planted the mushroom at the very front of the rack. Along with the other mushrooms, he watered it, fertilized it, and waited for it to grow.

George crouched beside him, watching him plant it.

"You grow them very well," George said.

Eric lowered his head, saying nothing.

George continued: "When I first started growing them, I was far worse than you."

Eric looked up. "How long have you been growing them?"

George thought for a moment and said: "Several years. But it feels like a lifetime."

Eric looked at him. This old man, seventy-three years old, had mined coal for forty-five years, and now grew mushrooms. The mushrooms he grew, in the white light of the racks, also seemed to glow.

George pulled the dried mushroom from his pocket and handed it to Eric. "This, Chris asked me to bring to you. The first one. Henry grew it."

Eric took it. The mushroom was dried and shriveled, yet still pure white. He held it in his palm, looking at it for a long time. Henry, the person who, like him, had lived in a dilapidated house for twenty years. He had grown the first mushroom, then sent it to him.

He placed the dried mushroom next to the newly planted one. Two mushrooms, one fresh, one dried. Side by side, like two letters.

Edna sat at the entrance of the farm, looking at the mushroom racks. Sarah sat beside her, holding a letter. It was the one Eric had written, the one addressed to everyone in Xinfeng Town. She had read it many times, and every time it felt different.

"Edna," Sarah asked, "why did you come?"

Edna thought for a moment and said: "To see him."

Sarah asked: "To see what about him?"

Edna looked at the young man crouching in front of the racks in the distance. He was planting mushrooms with George; the two of them were crouching, very close together.

"To see him growing up," Edna said.

Sarah was stunned.

Edna continued: "When he wrote the first letter, he wrote, 'I saw myself.' The second letter said, 'I saw the light.' The third letter says, 'I saw you all.'"

She turned her head, looking at Sarah:

"He has grown up. I wanted to come and see."

That afternoon, George taught Eric how to grow mushrooms on the farm.

He taught him how to look at the color of the mushrooms, how to judge if there was enough water, and how to know when to pick them. Eric learned very diligently, asking about every step several times.

George picked a mushroom and placed it in Eric's hand. "This one is ripe."

Eric held the mushroom, pure white and still covered in soil. He looked at it for a long time, then looked up.

"George," he said, "thank you for writing to me."

George was stunned.

Eric continued: "You were the first to reply. The letter you wrote, I have it posted on the wall. I look at it every day."

George was silent for a moment, then smiled. "What I wrote wasn't very good."

Eric shook his head. "It's good. Better than anyone else's."

In the evening, Edna sat at the entrance of the farm, talking to the mushroom racks. Her voice was soft, as if she were chatting with someone. Sarah sat beside her, listening.

"Old man," Edna said, "look at these mushrooms, they're growing so well."

The wind blew, and the white light on the mushroom racks flickered. Edna smiled.

"You think so too?"

Sarah listened from the side, saying nothing. But she felt as if the mushrooms were nodding.

When it was almost dark, Eric walked over to Edna and crouched down.

"Edna," he said, "the letter you wrote, I have that posted on the wall, too."

Edna looked at him.

Eric said: "You wrote it many times. You made mistakes, then corrected them. After you finished, you wrote it again."

He pulled the letter from his pocket and handed it to her. "I kept it."

Edna took it, looking at the scratch marks, the handwriting that had been corrected over and over. She looked at it for a long time, then pressed the letter against her heart.

"Keep it," she said.

That night, George and Edna stayed in Millfield. Dave gave them the best room in town, a small cabin next to the farm. George sat at the doorway, looking at the mushroom racks. Edna sat beside him, leaning on her cane.

"George," Edna said, "who do you think Eric reminds you of?"

George thought for a moment and said: "Like us, in the past."

Edna nodded. "He also comes from a place where he couldn't see."

George was silent for a while, then said: "But he has seen the light."

Edna smiled. "Once you've seen it, you can never be blind to it again."

The next morning, George and Edna were leaving. Eric stood at the edge of town, holding a mushroom in his hand. It was one he had picked the night before, the biggest one, pure white and still covered in dew.

"This," he handed it to George, "take it to Xinfeng Town."

George took it and placed it next to the dried mushroom. Two mushrooms, one fresh, one dried. Side by side, like two letters.

Edna walked up to Eric and looked at him.

"Everything you wrote," she said, "someone will read it."

Eric nodded.

Edna turned around, leaned on her cane, and walked slowly toward the car. George followed behind, holding the mushroom. The two of them walked slowly, but steadily.

Eric stood at the edge of town, watching the car drive further and further away, until it finally disappeared at the end of the road.

Sarah stood beside him. "You're crying."

Eric touched his face. It was wet. He didn't know when he had started crying.

"No," he said, "it's the wind."

Sarah smiled. She was crying too.

That night, Eric returned to the farm. He crouched in front of the racks, looking at the mushrooms. The one George had planted was growing at the very front, pure white, better looking than all the mushrooms he had grown.

He said to the mushroom: "You saw it. I saw it too."

The mushroom could not answer. But he felt that it was glowing.

He stood up and walked to the wall. The wall was covered with letters: Mark's, Yuki's, George's, Edna's, Mike's, Sam's, Jenny's, Chris's, Tony's. They were dense, like a patch of white mushrooms.

He reached out and touched George's letter. The paper was thin, the handwriting crooked. But he felt it was the most beautiful writing he had ever seen.

He picked up his pen and wrote another letter. It wasn't to any specific person, but to Xinfeng Town. In the letter, he wrote: "My name is Eric. I'm twenty-three. I didn't graduate college. I'm growing mushrooms. Today, George came. He brought a mushroom and planted it on my rack. He taught me how to look at the color, how to water them, and how to know when the mushrooms are ripe. He also brought a dried mushroom, the one Henry grew. The first one. I planted them together. One fresh, one dried. I saw them. At the very front of the rack, white and bright. Thank you for coming. Thank you for seeing."

After he finished writing, he went to find Dave.

Dave took the letter and glanced at it. "Sending another one?"

Eric nodded.

Dave put the letter in his pocket. "Who is this one for?"

Eric thought for a moment and said: "Still to Xinfeng Town. To everyone."

[Chapter 80 End]