As the sun sank in the west, Ling Qing rode his little electric scooter home. He made the trip twice every day, and after traveling the same road over a thousand times, he knew it like the back of his hand.
Every time he got off work, Ling Qing felt a little dazed. By the time he came back to himself, his rented apartment was already right in front of him.
Whatever he had been thinking about along the way had vanished from his mind, as if he had crossed a stretch of time and lost all memory of what had happened during it.
Whoosh~
Ling Qing turned the handlebars, and the nimble little scooter rounded a corner, gliding off the main road and onto a narrow lane.
A little farther on, the buildings lining the lane came into view, haphazard and uneven, nothing like the fashionable, modern apartments along the main road.
Platforms and windows jutted out all over the crooked, winding lane. Ropes and electrical wires crisscrossed overhead in a tangled mess.
"Checkmate!"
A group of old men in white undershirts waved their fans as they crowded around a chessboard, engrossed in the battle unfolding on it.
"Hurry up and go do your homework!"
A mother in flower-patterned pajamas twisted her child's ear and dragged him home, paying no mind to his pig-slaughtering screams.
These scenes of everyday life were as familiar as the road he had traveled hundreds, even thousands of times—and seen just as often.
Squeak~
Ling Qing squeezed the brakes and, with practiced ease, parked his scooter in a dim passageway. He took the charger from beneath the seat and plugged it in.
As the motor hummed, he lifted a takeout meal from the scooter and carried it farther inside.
Feeling his way along the staircase at the end of the passage, he climbed effortlessly to the second floor in the dark. In the golden-red sunlight, he opened the only wooden door on the cramped landing.
Thud~
He flopped heavily onto a single bed and casually pulled the blanket from beside him over his body.
After a while, once the last of the sunset had faded from the window, he reached into his pocket and took out a vivid green acorn.
He had found it on his way home from work. He had just stepped out of the company entrance when the nut fell from the sky and hit him on the head.
He had looked up. There were no fruit-bearing trees outside the company, only a busy elevated highway overhead.
It was rush hour, and traffic above was at a standstill. Maybe someone had accidentally dropped it.
He had watched for a while, but when no one leaned over to look down, Ling Qing had no choice but to let it go.
He had meant to toss it away, but after taking a closer look, he'd found it quite pretty. And apart from in videos and pictures, he'd never seen a real acorn before.
Thinking that, he had tucked it into his pocket without a second thought.
Now that he took it out, he saw that the green fruit gleamed with a faint, translucent sheen, as if it had been carved from jade.
But he was sure it wasn't jade. When he squeezed it, it felt distinctly wooden, and it didn't weigh enough.
He pulled out his phone and searched online. Most acorns, he found, turned reddish brown when ripe. A few were green, but none were as beautiful as the one in his hand.
After studying it for a long while, Ling Qing discovered that aside from its beauty, the acorn was extraordinarily sturdy.
He had also checked online and confirmed that acorns, like chestnuts, were edible.
But no matter what he tried, he couldn't open it. He squeezed it with a pair of pliers until it deformed slightly, but as soon as he let go, it returned to its original shape.
He wiped off the marks from the pliers, and the surface was smooth and flawless again, without a trace.
Only when his stomach began to growl did he remember that he had been so absorbed in studying it that he still hadn't eaten.
By then, it was completely dark. He felt around by the head of the bed until he found a pull cord, then tugged it. Harsh white light poured down from overhead, illuminating the room.
He set the acorn beside his pillow, pulled over the small table with his takeout on it, and picked up a cup to pour himself some water.
With a little lukewarm boiled water, he somehow managed to finish the takeout, which had gone completely cold. He wiped his mouth and casually tossed the trash into the bin beside him.
He hastily washed up at the sink in the corner, then sat cross-legged on the bed, turned on the computer beside him, and aimlessly browsed videos.
Recently, plenty of videos about traditional martial arts had appeared online. Most featured young people posting clips on various platforms and attracting a lot of attention.
Ling Qing was among those captivated by them.
He had never imagined that, so many years after martial arts movies had fallen out of fashion, there would still be so many people his age quietly practicing martial arts.
He casually opened a video, and the scene unfolded.
In a bamboo grove, two young men about his age stood facing one another, clad in martial arts outfits and wearing solemn expressions.
One held a spear with its tip pointed down. The other cradled a sword in his arms.
As the music began, the two launched into combat without a word. Sword clashed with spear, cold light flashing.
At times, one leapt up and narrowly dodged the spear thrusting toward him, then turned his sword around and forced his opponent back. At others, his sword coiled like a swimming dragon, sweeping up a swirl of fallen leaves as it thrust forward, only for the other man to flick his spear and parry it with a spray of spear blossoms.
"Thwack!" "Thwack!" "Thwack!"
The sword's edge swept past, and a bamboo stalk as thick as a bowl snapped cleanly in two. The crisp crack rang out, leaving a cut as smooth as a mirror.
"Bang!" "Bang!" "Bang!"
Each time the spear tip pierced a bamboo stalk, a single flick made it explode like firecrackers, bursting from base to crown like fireworks.
The two figures leapt high and darted low, bounding up and down. They used the slightest purchase beneath their feet to spring away, moving over the ground as if it were flat.
The barrage of comments filled with "Holy crap," "So cool," and "Run it back a hundred million times."
Clang~
With a soft metallic ring, the sword tip met the gleaming spearhead. A gust of air burst from the collision and swept away the fallen leaves, exposing the slightly damp ground.
As the camera circled the two of them, the image gradually faded to black.
Amid a screen-covering wave of "Holy crap," the gorgeous video—an elaborate, two-minute spectacle like something out of a classic martial arts film—came to an end.
He casually liked, shared, and saved it, then clicked on the next video.
Unbeknownst to him, the noisy urban village had fallen silent.
Waaah~
A baby's wail roused Ling Qing from his absorption in the videos. He checked the time and saw it was already past one.
He shut down the computer. As the new mother soothed the baby in a voice both gentle and anxious, the new father mumbled drowsily, and the baby kept crying, he drifted off to sleep as easily as ever.
The thin walls did nothing to block the baby's piercing cries, but Ling Qing had lived here for so long that he was used to them.
His neighbors were just as accustomed to it. No one had ever complained.
Half-asleep, Ling Qing felt the baby's cries gradually grow fainter. Then, all around him, silence fell.
Aside from the occasional cat's meow, he had no idea when or in whose home the next burst of noise would break out.
But none of it had anything to do with Ling Qing, fast asleep.
The cool moonlight shone on the floor. The vivid green acorn Ling Qing had forgotten beside his pillow glowed softly, bathing him in green light.
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