22: Chapter 22 Exceptions to "It's better to do less than more"

The train drove into the hilly region. Outside the window, the poplar leaves were curled by the wind, revealing their whitish undersides like countless flapping palms. Chen Jie leaned against the iron carriage, dozing off, the cuffs of his overalls stained with a bit of mountain mud, swaying gently with the jolting of the train. He used his backpack as a pillow behind his head; the jade stone inside pressed against his occiput, feeling cool, like a pebble soaked in a stream.

"Wake up, look quick." Zhao Kai nudged him with his elbow, pointing his phone camera diagonally forward. "That old lady's medicine bottle tipped over, pills are scattered everywhere, and no one is helping."

Chen Jie opened his eyes and saw an old lady with graying hair squatting in the aisle, her hands trembling as she picked up the scattered pills. Her reading glasses had slid to the tip of her nose, reflecting the lights from the ceiling. The surrounding passengers were either looking down at their phones or turning their heads to look out the window. Even the passing attendant just cast a hurried glance without stopping—the broadcast in the carriage was looping "Please do not linger in the aisle," like an invisible wall separating the old lady from the crowd.

"Less trouble is better than more." Chen Jie rubbed his eyes and adjusted the backpack under his neck. This was his catchphrase, just like when he was fixing things and always thought "don't move it if you don't have to" to avoid trouble. But when his gaze fell on the old lady's trembling fingers, he suddenly thought of Grandma Zhang—last time Grandma Zhang's radio broke, he had also complained "what a hassle" while his hands were already reaching for the screwdriver.

"Look at the patch on her bag, it's exactly the same as my grandma's." Zhao Kai was still filming. "But seriously, nobody cares. People nowadays are afraid of getting involved."

Chen Jie didn't respond, his gaze involuntarily following the old lady's movements. She picked up a white pill, examined it against the light for a long time, then suddenly sighed and stuffed it into her pocket—the edges of the pill were covered in dust; it was clearly inedible. A faded peony flower was embroidered on the old lady's canvas bag, the stitches crooked, looking like the alkali stains on Auntie Wang's apron in the mountains.

The jade stone inside the backpack suddenly vibrated gently, as if someone had tapped the stone surface with their fingertips. Chen Jie sat up abruptly. When he pulled out his tool kit, the thin calluses on his fingertips brushed against the surface of the jade stone. The horizontal and vertical patterns actually emitted a faint green light, the trajectory of which flowed along the lines, looking very much like the flow of current he had seen when repairing circuit boards.

"What are you doing?" Zhao Kai raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you say less trouble is better than more?"

"Shut up." Chen Jie bent down to pull the backpack from under the seat; the canvas scraped against the iron floor, making a "scratch" sound. When he walked over to the old lady, he saw her tucking the last pill into her pocket. The peony petals on the bag were darkened by sweat, looking like a flower wilted by rain.

"Ma'am, let me help you take a look." Chen Jie squatted down, his fingertips sweeping over the scattered pill blister packs. "Is this blood pressure medicine?"

The old lady looked up, the cloudiness in her eyes suddenly brightening a little. "Yes, yes, young man... My grandson has the college entrance exam tomorrow, I have to rush there to accompany him, I can't stop taking this medicine." As she spoke, she pulled a crumpled medicine box from her bag, the writing on it worn and blurry. "I knocked it over when I was grabbing my water cup, it's all my fault for being old and confused."

Chen Jie didn't speak; he rummaged through his tool kit and pulled out a piece of chamois—the one he used to wipe the jade stone, which was now emitting a faint green light. He gently wiped the dusty pills with the chamois. Strangely, the dust seemed to be attracted by a magnet, all gathering toward the center of the chamois, revealing the clean pill surface underneath. The old lady stared with wide eyes, muttering "how strange, how strange," looking just like she did when listening to Old Liu tell the legend of the Jade God at Suiyu Slope.

"This medicine is still edible." Chen Jie sorted the pills by color and put them into the envelope the old lady had handed him earlier. "The buckle on your bag is loose, that's why the medicine bottle fell out." He pulled out a mini wrench, pinched the end of it with his fingertips, and gave it a gentle turn. With a "click," the old buckle on the canvas bag snapped into place, smoother than when he fixed the dining car tabletop.

The surrounding passengers gathered around, chattering and praising his dexterity. A girl wearing glasses handed over disinfectant wipes, and an old man said he was a doctor, helping to check if the pills were still safe to take. The old lady's hand clutching the envelope was trembling, and she suddenly shoved an apple into Chen Jie's hand—the apple still had teeth marks on it, clearly something she had been gnawing on along the way.

"Young man, this apple is sweet, have a taste." The old lady's tears fell onto the apple. "If only my grandson were half as sensible as you."

Chen Jie pushed the apple back into the old lady's hand. "You keep it for the road, I have some in my bag." When he stood up, the jade stone in his backpack vibrated again, this time even lighter, like a satisfied sigh. Zhao Kai stood by the seat and winked at him, but with a smile on his lips—just a moment ago he had said "less trouble is better than more," yet now he had turned into a good Samaritan.

When he returned to his seat, Chen Jie found that the green light on the chamois had faded, leaving only a faint scent of grass and trees, the same tone as the pine needle smell at Suiyu Slope. He folded the chamois and stuffed it into his tool kit. When his fingertips touched the jade stone, he found some apple peel crumbs embedded in those patterns, looking like meticulously inlaid red agate.

"Not bad, you broke your rule." Zhao Kai stuffed a candy into his hand. "That moment just now, you were even more focused than when you were fixing the radio."

Chen Jie unwrapped the candy, the orange flavor spreading on his tongue. "Some things... you just can't avoid." He looked at the terraced fields passing by outside the window, the newly planted rice seedlings reflecting a fine, fragmented green in the paddy fields, the ripples stirred up when the wind passed, looking just like the green light flowing on the surface of the jade stone. He suddenly understood that his principle of "less trouble is better than more" was like an uncalibrated watch; there were always a few moments when it would be carried forward by the gears in his heart—like seeing Grandma Zhang's radio, like encountering this old lady's medicine bottle, like... holding this jade stone that always worked its magic at critical moments.

When the train burrowed into the tunnel, the carriage suddenly darkened. Chen Jie touched his backpack; the temperature of the jade stone was higher than before, like holding a chestnut that had been basking in the sun. He knew that this "exception" probably wouldn't be the last, just like when fixing things, one always encounters "unplanned" malfunctions. Life, this complex machine, also always, inadvertently, tightens a few unexpected screws for you.