21: Chapter 21 Cash Given to Strangers

The wheels of the green-skinned train rolled over the rail joints, emitting a rhythmic "clack-clack" sound, much like the clinking of a wrench against screws in Chen Jie's toolbox. He pushed his backpack further under the seat, his fingertips brushing against the cold edge of the jade stone—the red glow that had suddenly flared on the stone's surface when the bearded man left cursing had not yet fully faded, looking like embers still burning in a stove.

"You were really daring just now." Zhao Kai stuffed potato chips into his mouth, crumbs falling onto his jeans. "That guy clearly wasn't someone to mess with. You gave him money, aren't you afraid he'll turn around and cause trouble again?"

Chen Jie didn't respond, his eyes fixed on the woman in the floral dress in the aisle. She was crouching by the trash can, carefully picking up the medicine boxes that had scattered during the earlier altercation. Her fingers rubbed against the crumpled packaging, her knuckles as white as water-logged wood. Sunlight slanted in from the train window, casting dappled light spots on her back, looking almost as if someone had spilled a handful of uncollected jade powder.

He suddenly remembered the spice packet in his backpack—Wang Lei had stuffed it in before he left, saying the food in the mountains would be poor and that this would make stewed meat fragrant. At this moment, the scent of star anise and cinnamon wafted from the bag, mingling with the smell of instant noodles in the carriage, strangely overpowering the previous stench of smoke and fish. Chen Jie touched the jade stone; the patterns on its surface faintly glowed beneath the canvas, as if responding to this scent of home cooking.

"I'm going to the restroom." As Chen Jie stood up, his backpack strap caught on the corner of the table, and the wrench in his tool bag clattered against the jade stone with a crisp sound, like biting into a wild walnut.

He deliberately slowed his pace as he passed the woman. He recognized the name of the hospital on the medicine boxes; it was a specialist hospital for lung diseases back in his hometown. When Grandma Zhang was hospitalized last year, he had gone to deliver some millet porridge he'd stewed himself. The woman seemed to sense his gaze and hurriedly shoved the medicine boxes into her pocket, her earlobes turning as red as ripe wild hawthorn from the mountains.

Chen Jie said nothing and walked straight toward the junction between the carriages. When he returned, he had two cans of hot milk in his hand, bought from the dining car. He placed one in front of the woman. Droplets of condensation on the milk can dripped down his fingers, forming a small puddle on the floor, which was quickly dried up by the coldness seeping from under his backpack—the jade stone was quietly at work again.

"Build up your strength." His voice was a bit hoarse, like swallowing unsteeped tea leaves. "My grandmother stayed in this hospital before; drinking something hot helps."

The woman looked up, her eyes as red as a rabbit that had just been crying: "I... I have no money to give you."

"No money needed." Chen Jie took out a few banknotes from his wallet. As he slipped them into her hand, the Qi from his fingertips flowed through her palm, carrying the warmth of the jade stone. "Just consider it... an early New Year's greeting for your mother." Fearing she would refuse, he walked toward his seat as soon as he finished speaking, though he could feel her gaze stuck to his back, hot like sheet metal baked in the sun.

Zhao Kai nudged him with his elbow: "Are you addicted to playing the generous benefactor? First you give to a gambler, now to a stranger—can your meager graduation trip budget handle this kind of spending?"

"Money can be earned back, but a guilty conscience cannot be mended." Chen Jie shifted his backpack onto his lap; the jade stone pressed against his knee through the canvas, like a stone reminding him. "Didn't you see her medicine boxes were worn out? She must be in urgent need of money."

Just as he was speaking, the woman suddenly walked over and placed a cloth bag on Chen Jie's table. The coarse cloth was embroidered with a crooked morning glory, and the stitches were stained with a dark green powder that smelled of walnut tree sap. "This is... crushed jade powder that my mother-in-law collected," her voice was as thin as a mosquito's. "The elders say it can keep you safe. Please don't mind it."

When Chen Jie opened the cloth bag, his fingertips suddenly felt hot—the crushed jade powder inside was glowing with a very faint blue light, faintly echoing the light patterns of his own jade stone. He looked up to decline, but the woman had already walked away, her retreating figure in the swaying carriage like a leaf blown by the wind.

"That's weird, this crushed jade powder can glow?" Zhao Kai leaned in to look, his eyes wide as saucers. "Is it in cahoots with your stone?"

Chen Jie stuffed the cloth bag into his tool bag. The moment the crushed jade powder touched the jade stone, the stone's surface suddenly "hummed" and lit up. The red and blue light in the patterns intertwined like two streams twisted into a rope. He suddenly remembered the legend of the Jade God that Old Liu had told him—the fragments of the Jade God scattered in the mountains would manifest their power when they encountered kind people. Perhaps this wasn't a coincidence; just like the old objects he had repaired, they always knew how to say "thank you" in their own way when the time was right.

When the announcement that the train was about to arrive at the station sounded, Chen Jie touched his tool bag. The crushed jade powder and the jade stone were pressed together, cool to the touch, yet heavier than before, as if he were carrying a bag filled with walnuts of goodwill. He gazed at the old houses flashing past outside the window; the copper bells under the eaves rang crisply in the wind. He suddenly felt that the most precious gain of this journey was not that magical jade stone, but the moments of passing on warmth like this—just like that perfect drop of machine oil when fixing something; it isn't much, but it can make the gears turn again.

Zhao Kai was still complaining about him wasting money, but Chen Jie just smiled. He knew some things were more important than money, just as some parts were more valuable than the machine itself. This jade stone could absorb smoke and purify water, but it couldn't purify the turbidity of the human heart. Yet, the moment of reaching out to help might be more effective than any Qi.