Roses Bloom in the Wooden Window

There are two shops hidden in the alleys of the old town. One is Su Yang's "Yangyue" bookstore. The folds of time are hidden in the pile of old books. The roses in the glass flower house bloom year after year. She always lowers her head to repair books in the afternoon, her fingertips are stained with the fragrance of ink and flower dew. Next door is Lu Ze's ancient building restoration studio. Wood dust is dancing in the sun, and planes and carving knives are tapping the growth rings of the old wood. He is squatting in the corner with silver-rimmed glasses and looking at the cracks in the bricks. His work jacket is always stained with light brown paint. The first time we met, he came to borrow a glass of warm water. When she handed it over, her fingertips touched and he said, "Swim bladder glue makes books stronger." Later, it was the hot soy milk he silently placed at the door of the bookstore, the band-aid she quietly stuffed into his tool box, and the accidental collision of the bone knife for repairing books and the chisel for carving wood in the sunset at the entrance of the alley. They were all people who were accustomed to silence, curled up at their corners like the pages of an old book, and wrapped in a gentleness that was not easily revealed like the brick walls of an old building. Until the wood dust mixed with the fragrance of flowers, until she discovered that he had photos of alley roses on his phone, until he inserted a piece of dried petals into her notebook full of short poems—— It turns out that the most touching restoration is never about restoring the old days, but about two people working together to slowly make each other's hearts softer and brighter. "Su Yang," he squatted at the door of the greenhouse to water the roses, his voice was earthy, "Let's go buy fish maw glue together tomorrow?" She lowered her head and touched the new marks on the spine of the book, the tips of her ears quietly feeling hot: "Okay." ——The wind in the alley knows that some stories should be told slowly amidst the wood dust and the fragrance of flowers.