47: Chapter 47 The Fan Leaf Engraved with the Character "Jie"

The water tank on the roof of the dormitory building shone with a blinding glare under the scorching sun. The sound of cicadas, like a lit fuse, exploded from the canopy of the sycamore trees, winding through the heatwaves and drilling into one's ears. Chen Yang stood under the clothesline, holding the broken fan blade. The sweat stains on the back of his blue and white school uniform spread like a gray cloud. The freshly washed bedsheets flapped loudly in the wind, slapping against his arms with the cool scent of laundry detergent.

"Brother, it fell off again." Chen Yang held the fan blade out to Chen Jie. The plastic edges still bore the traces of the glue from the last repair, yellowing in the sunlight. The smell of instant noodles drifted through the dormitory corridor, mixed with the aroma of food wafting up from the cafeteria downstairs, making the air feel thick and sticky. "The dorm manager said if I can't fix it again, they'll confiscate it, but this fan is older than I am..."

Chen Jie was squatting in the stairwell, dismantling an old freezer that Wang Lei had asked him to repair. The rusty compressor creaked as he tightened it with a wrench. The moss at the base of the wall was wilted from the sun, leaving dark stains on the concrete floor. The jade stone in his canvas backpack suddenly grew slightly warm, like a piece of ginger just fished out of a braising pot. When he looked up, sunlight streamed through the iron bars of the corridor window, casting fine, fragmented shadows across Chen Yang's face—even more dazzling than the blades of that old fan.

"Go buy a bottle of 502 glue." Chen Jie gave Chen Yang a push on the back and moved to the other side of the freezer to continue turning the screws. Metal shavings fell onto his work pants, mixing with the poplar catkins drifting in from the window. "Pick up a box of sandpaper too, the finest grade. Remember to steer clear of the old lady selling popsicles downstairs; her freezer's compressor has been due for a replacement for a long time, so don't get stuck there giving her directions."

By the time Chen Yang ran back, Chen Jie had already clamped the fan blade into a makeshift vise. The cicada chirping outside suddenly changed tone, as if someone had choked it, before bursting into an even shriller wave of sound. He first sanded down the broken edge, the plastic dust falling softly onto the old newspaper spread on the floor, like a sprinkling of sun-scorched sycamore flowers. "This piece of junk should've been thrown away a long time ago." He complained, but the carving knife in his hand suddenly began to move across the back of the fan blade. The sound of the blade scraping against the plastic made a "hissing" noise, which, mixed with the sound of basketballs bouncing from the distant court, was even more rhythmic than the chopping sounds at Wang Leis Braised Food Stall.

"I told you not to buy second-hand stuff last time, but you wouldn't listen—the motor speed on this thing is almost catching up to a soy milk maker; it's no wonder it keeps falling off." Chen Jie blew on the broken edge, and the kicked-up plastic dust tumbled in the beam of light. The weeds growing from the cracks in the wall were pressed against the ground by the wind, the fine hairs on their leaves clearly visible, reminding him of the moss that grew along the stone crevices at Suiyu Slope.

Chen Yang squatted nearby and watched, suddenly noticing that his brother had carved a crooked "Jie" character on the back of the fan blade. The carving wasn't deep, but it cleverly circled several old cracks, like patching up a wound. Sunlight leaked through the gaps in the vise, casting thin golden threads into the carved lines, even more dazzling than the hands of Old Zhou's grandfather clock. "Brother, what is this..."

"So that if it falls off again, you'll know who fixed it." Chen Jie squeezed glue onto the broken edge, his fingertip smoothing the excess glue into an even line. The fan grill drying nearby was suddenly blown by the wind, colliding with the iron frame with a "clang," startling the sparrows on the windowsill. "Let it dry for half an hour before installing it; don't be in such a rush to plug it in like last time." He suddenly fished a piece of thin wire from his tool bag and wrapped it twice around the fan blade's shaft hole. As the wire caught the light, his peripheral vision caught sight of Chen Yang's white shirt on the distant clothesline, billowing in the wind like a pigeon spreading its wings.

This sound was a bit like the ticking of Old Zhou's grandfather clock. Chen Jie looked at the character he had carved and suddenly felt that this broken fan was quite stubborn, just like Chen Yang—clearly terrified, yet insisting on using this antique. The jade stone in his backpack slowly cooled down. He touched the carved lines; the edges had been smoothed by the sandpaper, feeling even more natural than the wooden cutting board at the braised food stall. The sweet and sour smell from the cafeteria drifted through the air, mixed with the sour stench of the trash can in the distance, making the scent of summer feel exceptionally real.

When Chen Yang was about to return to school, Chen Jie slipped a spare screwdriver into his canvas bag. The setting sun stretched their shadows long, swaying on the concrete floor with their footsteps like kelp blown by the wind. "If it falls off, tighten it yourself; don't always rely on others." He kicked Chen Yang's heel, but as the other turned away, he quietly stuffed a new sponge into the fan grill. "Use this as a cushion so the parts don't get damaged again."

As twilight crept into the alleyway, Chen Jie stared blankly at the repaired freezer. The compressor hummed, the sound actually quite similar to the fan in Chen Yang's dormitory. In the distance, the cooking smoke from Wang Leis Braised Food Stall mixed with the sunset glow, dyeing the sky a deep sauce-red, even thicker than the braising liquid in his pot. He took out his phone to text Chen Yang, his fingertip hovering over the screen for a long time, only to type out the four words, "Don't mess around." In reality, what he wanted to say was that inside the carved lines on the back of that fan blade, he had hidden a bit of spiritual power capable of making the plastic sturdy—just like the method he used to keep the food at Wang Leis Braised Food Stall fresh, though he couldn't say it out loud.

Old Zhou's grandfather clock struck seven times. Chen Jie tightened the last screw into the freezer lid. Moonlight fell on the tool bag, where the small knife used for the carving lay on the very top layer, its blade reflecting a faint green light, like a star someone had accidentally dropped inside. The crickets at the base of the wall began to chirp, singing in harmony with the distant cicadas, marking the rhythm of the summer night with distinct clarity.