30: Chapter 30 The Temporary "Silence" of Jade

The twilight in the Old neighborhood was like a water-soaked cotton cloth, pressing heavily onto the roof tiles.

Chen Jie crouched on the steps behind Wang Leis Braised Food Stall, spinning a freshly polished wrench in his hand, but his gaze was glued to the canvas backpack at his feet.

His fingertips tapped unconsciously against his knees, and the inexplicable irritation in his heart leaked out like a loose faucet—ever since he finished fixing Grandma Zhang's radio this morning, this jade stone hadn't made a single sound.

"I won't be at ease until I take a look," Chen Jie muttered, leaning over to unzip the bag and pulling out the dark green jade stone.

The surface of the stone was covered in a thin layer of dust, like an old part forgotten in the corner of a toolbox.

Chen Jie breathed onto his palm, wiped it carefully with chamois leather, and ran his fingertips along the horizontal and vertical patterns.

He suddenly remembered at the pool by Suiyu Slope, these lines had once glowed with orange-red streams of light, as fast as flames in a stove; he remembered when he dried the map in the rainstorm, the blue light had crawled across the page along the lines, making even the ink glow; even at Old Zhou's house, when it recognized the white stone, the two lights had woven into a web, wrapping the silt into tiny balls—but now, there was only the cold touch of stone, without even a hint of a glimmer.

"Am I being too greedy?" Chen Jie curled his lips in self-mockery.

When he first found it, he only thought the patterns were novel; who would have thought it could absorb smoke, slow down time, and move stone slabs according to his will?

Now that it was quiet, it felt as if he had done something wrong, forcing a piece of stone to manifest its power.

"I'm telling you, it's really dead," Zhao Kai said, downing the last of his iced soda and tossing the empty bottle into the trash can. "That moment when you fixed Grandma Zhang's radio this morning was probably its final flicker of life."

He reached out to touch the jade stone, but Chen Jie gently held his hand back.

"Don't touch it," Chen Jie said in a soft voice, as if afraid of disturbing something. "It's shy with strangers."

Actually, he wanted to say, don't call it a "damn stone" like before—although he knew Zhao Kai was just complaining casually, for some reason, he just didn't want to hear anyone talk about it like that.

He brought the jade stone closer to his eyes and examined it carefully against the light.

In the shelter cave, quartz sand from the stream had been embedded in the cracks of the stone, and at that time, it had helped dry Zhao Kai's wet trousers; on the train, the patterns had been stained with grease from the braised food, and back then, it had filtered out the smell of coal smoke completely; even just now while fixing the radio, he had clearly felt his hand go numb, as if a stream of Spiritual Qi was crawling from his fingertips onto the circuit board—but now, those traces had disappeared, leaving only clean dark green, as if it had never manifested any power.

A trace of disappointment flickered in Chen Jie's heart, feeling even emptier than losing a frequently used screwdriver.

He tried rubbing the small depression where the patterns intersected with his fingertips—a water ball had once hovered there, and it had once adsorbed smoke particles.

The jade stone had no reaction, not even the slight tremor it had when moving the stone slab for the pickle jar at Auntie Wang's house.

"Could its Spiritual Qi really be used up?" He remembered what Old Zhou said about the "Jade God Twin Stones"; the white stone could perform Water purification, and the green stone could drive away dampness, but if it lost its Spiritual Qi, wouldn't it just become an ordinary stone?

"Stop wiping it; even if you wipe it until flowers bloom, it won't turn into a gold ingot," Zhao Kai leaned in to look. "This afternoon, with Brother Li's old electric fan, the blades were about to fall off; you placed the jade stone next to it for a long time, but didn't you still have to tighten the screws yourself?"

Chen Jie didn't answer, placing the jade stone back in his palm and weighing it gently.

On the return train, it had vibrated slightly as it inhaled coal smoke, like it was burping; in the hallway of the Old neighborhood, it had become hot when it touched Grandma Zhang's radio, as if it was exerting effort—but now, it was as heavy as an ordinary pebble, and even when he channeled his Spiritual Qi to test it, there was no response at all, looking exactly like a stone drained of all Spiritual Qi.

"Perhaps... it needs to catch its breath too." Chen Jie stuffed the jade stone into the bag, zipped it halfway, but couldn't help turning back to touch it.

Just as his fingertips left the surface of the stone, he suddenly felt a very faint "click" sound from under the canvas—like the sound of a gear jamming, or like the slight swaying of a pendulum when he repaired a grandfather clock.

He pulled the zipper open abruptly, but the jade stone was still lying there quietly, cold and silent, as if the sound just now was just an illusion.

"I just want it to react too badly." Chen Jie shook his head and zipped the bag shut.

Actually, this was also quite good; an ordinary stone wouldn't cause trouble, which was better than attracting a bunch of attention on the train.

But the expectation in his heart was still like coal that hadn't burned through, smothered in ashes, refusing to go out.

Wang Lei walked out from behind the stall carrying a basin of braised food; drops of grease from his apron dripped onto the ground, forming small brown spots. "Jie-zi, could you help me fix the freezer compressor tomorrow? I just tested it, and the cooling is still not working well."

He glanced at Chen Jie's backpack. "That stone of yours... is it not working today?"

"It's on vacation." Chen Jie smiled, and when he stood up, he deliberately moved the backpack behind him.

The twilight deepened, and the streetlights at the alley entrance lit up. The dim yellow light shone through the plane tree leaves onto the ground, like a scattering of broken gold.

Zhao Kai was still muttering, "I told you this stone was unreliable," but Chen Jie suddenly remembered Old Liu's words—the stones of Suiyu Slope remember kindness and also remember grudges; their nature is like the mist in the mountains, sometimes effective and sometimes not.

Perhaps, it was just waiting for the right moment.

Just like those old grandfather clocks, when winding them, you always have to wait for the gears to engage properly; you can't rush it.

When he reached the entrance of the building, Chen Jie subconsciously touched the outside of his backpack.

The jade stone was pressed quietly against his back, cool, but with a subtle extra weight compared to before, like he was carrying a nut that was storing up energy.

He suddenly remembered on the train, when the crushed jade powder given by that woman touched the jade stone, it had lit up with interwoven red and blue light—perhaps, this silence was not the end, but just it "charging" in its own way.

He looked up at Grandma Zhang's window, and the sound of Pingju opera from the radio drifted down faintly.

Chen Jie lowered his head and smiled, walking upstairs with light steps, tapping lightly on the outside of the backpack, as if saying "good night" to the jade stone inside.

A very faint clink came from the backpack, as if the jade stone was responding, or as if the wrench hadn't been placed securely—who knows.

But Chen Jie knew in his heart that as long as this stone was still there, there would always be a day when it would light up again.