44: Chapter 44 The "Light" in the Little Girl's Eyes

The afternoon in the Old neighborhood was warmed by the autumn sun. The locust tree leaves cast mottled shadows on the ground; when the wind blew, they shimmered like dancing fragments of gold. Some fell on the tin toolbox of the bicycle stall, while others clung to the hem of a blue cloth shirt hanging on a clothesline. Even the air was filled with the sun-drenched scent of plants.

Chen Jie crouched beside Brother Li's bicycle stall. His buzz cut shimmered with a clean, dark sheen in the sunlight, and the unkempt stubble on his jaw was stained with a bit of rust—picked up just moments ago while helping Brother Li move old parts—which actually added a touch of casual ruggedness to him.

He was currently "straightening the bones" of a classic old bicycle that had dropped its chain. It was an old item belonging to Grandpa Wang in the building; the handlebar grips were polished smooth and shiny with age, but the chain was twisted into a knot, stuck fast in the gears.

The machine oil on Chen Jie's fingertips smeared onto the silvery chain, like a layer of amber film coating the metal. He steadied the bike frame with his left hand, pinched both ends of the chain with his right, and with a gentle flick of his wrist, smoothed out most of the tangled iron links.

The calluses on the web of his hands, hardened by years of working with wrenches, sandpaper, and screwdrivers, now flashed with a faint, luminous glow as his wrists turned—a light as pale as morning mist and as fleeting as a blink, easily missed if one wasn't paying attention.

"Jie-zi, with that speed of yours, it's a waste not to go make pancakes for Auntie Liu." Brother Li was crouching nearby, patching a tire, the file in his hand making a "swishing" sound against the rubber. Watching Chen Jie untangle the troublesome chain in just a few moves, he couldn't help but tease, "Auntie Liu always says her pancake-making speed is the fastest on the old street, but looking at how fast you fix things, you're even sharper than her when she flips pancakes."

Chen Jie didn't respond, just grinned, fine lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes. Those lines held the essence of everyday life, revealing all the vitality within him.

He always carried a faint scent of food—lingering from when he stewed braised dishes at home in the morning—mingled with the smell of machine oil and rust. It was like the air in the Old neighborhood at dusk: a chaotic mix, yet it made people feel grounded, and just by the scent, one knew he was "one of us."

On a bench not far away, Xiaoya swung her two small braids tied with red silk ribbons, clutching her repaired pink mobile phone tightly in her arms.

The screen was playing an excerpt from the Ping opera "flower as matchmaker." Zhang Wuke's singing voice was crisp and clear, drifting out through the phone's speaker. The little girl hummed along, her face beaming with delight, her feet tapping out the rhythm on the ground. A piece of half-eaten candied hawthorn was still stuck to the corner of her mouth—it was something Zhao Kai had bought for her earlier. The red sugar coating stuck to her lips made her look like a little squirrel that had snuck a taste of honey, appearing incredibly endearing.

"Uncle!" She suddenly jumped down from the bench, her canvas shoes making a "patter-patter" sound on the cement floor. The red silk ribbons at the tips of her braids were blown by the wind, brushing against the hem of Chen Jie's work pants and leaving two faint red marks. "Your hands glow! I saw it clearly just now!"

Chen Jie's hand holding the chain froze abruptly. The iron ring fell to the ground with a "clatter," rolled half a circle on the cement, and got stuck in a crack between bricks, motionless.

When he looked up, he met Xiaoya's clear eyes. The little girl's pupils were large and bright, reflecting the shadows of the locust leaves and shimmering with the autumn sun's light spots, as bright as the stars in the stream of Suiyu Slope, without any Impurities.

"Don't go around shouting nonsense, kid." Chen Jie bent down to pick up the chain and hooked it onto the gears, deliberately using the back of his oil-stained hand to rub her forehead, hoping to brush the matter aside.

As his fingertips grazed the little girl's soft baby hair, that faint, imperceptible warmth rose up again—it was the movement of the jade stone's spiritual power within his backpack, quietly flowing under his skin. He was long accustomed to using this rough-and-tumble manner to hide these unusual things tightly, to the point where he had almost forgotten the uniqueness of this power himself.

"It's not nonsense!" Xiaoya stubbornly tilted her chin up, her little nose wrinkled into a small lump, looking very serious. "Just now when you were helping Uncle Li hold the bike, there was green light jumping on your fingertips, just like fireflies on a summer night! Grandma Zhang says the stones from Suiyu Slope can perform miracles and help people fix things. Are you hiding that kind of stone in your backpack? Is it a treasure?"

These words were like a small pebble thrown into Chen Jie's heart, causing ripples to spread. He subconsciously touched his canvas backpack; the dark green jade stone in the zipper gap transmitted a cool sensation through the fabric, and that temperature helped him steady himself slightly.

"What treasure, there's no such thing," he said, fastening the chain onto the gears and picking up a wrench to tighten the screws. Amidst the "clack-clack" sound of metal colliding, his Adam's apple moved, and he remembered to put on an impatient look. "It's just an ordinary stone, picked up last time I went hiking. It's very heavy, I use it to prop up a table leg at home. There's no magic or anything."

But that bit of deliberately feigned sternness was completely betrayed by the smile at the corners of his eyes that he couldn't hide.

As he lowered his head to adjust the chain tension, the patch on the knee of his work pants tugged with his movements—the patch was a piece of dark blue canvas he had casually found in Uncle Wang's pile of scrap after tearing his pants while repairing a bench last time. The stitches were crooked, with thread ends showing in some places, but it was exceptionally sturdy and hadn't come undone even after several washes.

Just like him—he looked rough and careless, but was actually very meticulous. After fixing Xiaoya's phone last time, he noticed a rhinestone had fallen off the case, so he specifically went home to find some clear tape and carefully stuck it back on for her. Knowing Xiaoya's parents weren't home, he also always remembered to remind her to eat on time.

But Xiaoya wouldn't let it go. Standing on tiptoe, she peered into his palm, her little head almost right in front of his face: "There's light in Uncle's hand lines! It's faint, like stars fallen into the mud—you can't find it if you don't look carefully!"

She suddenly pulled a glass marble from her pocket and quickly stuffed it into Chen Jie's palm—the marble was pale blue, its surface a bit worn and rough, with a tiny crack on the edge, yet the little girl had polished it until it was shiny, and the warmth of her fingertips still remained on it. "This is for you! I've tried it—if you shine it in the sun for a while, it can glow all night! It can store your light!"

The glass surface of the marble reflected the thin calluses on the web of his hands. That trace left by years of circulating spiritual power actually glowed with a very faint, luminous light under the autumn sun, like a scattering of broken stars.

Chen Jie's heart stirred, and he quietly exerted force with his fingertips, letting a trace of spiritual power flow from his palm into the marble. Suddenly, a green light flashed inside the marble, as fast as summer night lightning, then returned to normal, leaving only a faint brightness deep within the glass.

"Wow! It really can store it!" Xiaoya clapped her little hands and laughed, her voice almost floating away, the red silk ribbons on her braids flying like two balls of fire with her movements. "Uncle, you're an immortal, right? Just like Lü Dongbin in the plays, secretly using immortal magic to help people! It was the same when you fixed the radio last time, and it's the same with the phone this time. You must be an immortal!"

Chen Jie hurriedly stuffed the marble back into her pocket, his ears feeling a bit hot—it was the first time in his life he'd been taken for an "immortal," which made him feel even more awkward than when Lin Wanqiu praised his braised food last time.

He caught Brother Li snickering nearby, the wrench in his hand knocking against the iron pipe with a "clanging" sound, deliberately raising his voice, afraid others wouldn't hear: "Little Jie-zi, you might as well admit it! Last time, after you fixed that broken fan of mine, it glowed green when it spun at night! My daughter got up to pee in the middle of the night, saw the light on the fan blades, and thought it was haunted, crying and calling me to go look!"

"That was poor contact in the wiring, it only reflected light because the current was unstable. What does that have to do with me?" Chen Jie retorted, stiffening his neck, though his voice was a bit quieter than usual.

When he turned to wipe his hands with a rag, he glanced quickly at the zipper of his backpack—the green light there had long since been completely retracted, leaving only a bit of warmth lingering on his fingertips, like a baked potato just taken from the stove, warm and cozy, yet he dared not let anyone touch it.

In the evening, when walking Xiaoya home, the setting sun had already sunk behind the building, dyeing the sky orange-red. The little girl insisted on stuffing that glass marble into his hand, her small hand gripping his fingers tightly: "Uncle, you take it. That way, when you want the light to come out, you'll have a place to store it! If it gets full, can you show me again?"

Chen Jie held the cold glass marble, watching her skipping figure run into the building entrance. The red silk ribbons flashed behind the door and then disappeared, leaving only a string of "Goodbye, Uncle" sounds drifting in the wind.

He touched the stubble on his chin, suddenly remembering the apple Grandma Zhang had stuffed into his hand when he helped her fix the radio in the morning—it was grown on her own tree, a bit small, but very sweet, and it was still in his work pants pocket now, pressing against his hip bone and making it itch a little.

Passing by Wang Leis Braised Food Stall, the rich aroma of meat, wrapped in the evening breeze, rushed toward him, mixed with the scents of cinnamon and star anise, making his stomach growl.

Chen Jie took a deep breath and tucked the glass marble into his inner pocket—where a packet wrapped in oil paper was also hidden. It was the braised pig trotter he had specifically saved for Lin Wanqiu, stewed until soft and tender, melting in the mouth. He knew the girl always said her stomach was bad and that she needed to eat something warm and easy to digest.

He lowered his head and tugged at his backpack strap to cover the exposed outline of the jade stone, then walked briskly toward the Community Hospital. The setting sun stretched his shadow long, swaying a silhouette on the ground that was both clumsy and gentle, with the shadow still speckled with the broken light of the locust leaves, as if a handful of stars had been scattered.