"Moss Traces Slowly"
Some root systems take nine years to wrap around each other.
Herbarium painter Jiang Man received the last gift from his brother before his unexpected death - an unfinished "Illustrated Book of East Asian Moss" and an unfamiliar contact information.
Shen Xubai, my brother's mentor, is a professor of plant pathology who is so rigorous that he is almost harsh. He is deaf in his left ear, but he is better at hearing the language of plants than anyone else. When he handed her his brother's research notes that were soaked by the rain, he said: "Your brother's specimens only recognize your pen."
In order to complete the last three chapters of the illustrated book, Jiang Man moved into Shen Xubai's century-old house. His life is like a precise incubator, but she is a variable that can overturn the petri dish at any time.
She secretly drew anthropomorphic fungi on his academic notes, but he added Latin annotations on the next page.
He corrected her about the scientific name of each green, but allowed her to be confused about the strength of coffee and black tea.
They argued about the naming method of a certain lichen, but in the herbarium late at night, they discovered the secret left by their brother - "Slowly, Xu Bai, if you see this, look at the Siberian tundra for me."
When Jiang Man finally finished drawing the last specimen, Shen Xubai gently closed her manuscript.
"What your brother didn't finish -" He pointed to the gap in the floor tiles of the old house, where there was a line of new moss, slowly and stubbornly spreading into the strokes of their last name.
It turns out that the most silent symbiosis has already grown in a deserted place.
——
Concept: The quietest symbiosis often grows in unnamed time.