The sunset walks in the sky, while we walk on the ground; it heads west, and we head north. Finally, it is submerged by the distant trees, and we arrive at the wooden house.
The wooden house looks just like I remember, with no changes at all. Although somewhat dilapidated, it is clear that it has seen some life; I wonder how many travelers it has hosted over the years.
As for the wooden house, I am not sure who built it. Anyway, when I first came here, it was already here, as if it was meant to be here, and if it were moved, the world would collapse, and the sun would extinguish.
I pushed open the door; there was no one inside, just a bed and a table. I looked around, finding no danger, but it felt very strange, or rather awkward, as if the wooden house was brewing something.
I pressed on the walls, trying to discover something, but found nothing. I then lay on the ground, knocking around, hoping to find a hollow compartment, yet still no discovery. I continued searching under the bed, beneath the bed legs, and under the table legs, not missing any detail.
In fact, I felt awkward the first time I came here. I thought it would fade away with time, but when I returned, it rushed back at me.
I sat by the window all night, watching the stars. I remembered that summer before starting middle school, when I stayed up all night to see the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl meet across the Milky Way. Perhaps I was looking at the wrong stars, or maybe there was no Magpie Bridge at all; I never saw them meet.
Indeed, meetings are not that easy; they must endure countless hardships and shed a layer of skin; otherwise, don’t even think about it.
Unknowingly, the night sky transformed from deep black to light blue-gray, with a hint of red in between. I sat by the window waiting for dawn, waiting for the sun to shine in.
The sun did not shine in; she woke up, and we left before the sun rose. Once we were far from the wooden house, I looked back at it; under the black-gray-red reflection, it appeared exceptionally eerie, and a thought sprouted in my mind.
Once I had the thought, the next step was action. I turned back and dismantled the wooden house piece by piece, sweating profusely. She looked at me in confusion, perhaps not understanding why I was doing this. I didn’t quite understand either; I was just going by instinct.
Looking at the ruins, I stood there waiting for something to descend, waiting for the unusual to appear, waiting to validate the thought in my heart. It did not disappoint me; the wooden house slowly lifted from the ground, returning to its old form.
At the moment it restored, the sun came out, the first ray of morning light shone on it, and it no longer seemed eerie but rather perfectly normal, greeting the rising sun.
I rushed into the wooden house, ignoring her who was dumbfounded beside me; I thought there should be more than just her looking dumbfounded at this moment. The inside was still the same; the only change was that it looked newer, as if the bed and table had just been retrieved from the carpenter, but the awkwardness still lingered.
It was strange; why wouldn’t it come out? What was it doing? I had already destroyed the house, yet it still didn’t satisfy my curiosity; hurry up and let it out, let me know where the awkwardness lies.
I felt a bit unwilling; no one would be willing. There is too much unwillingness in the world; why should I be willing? Why should you all be willing? Why should anyone be willing? Right, why should it be?
I walked outside, temporarily setting aside my unwillingness, but would I really let it go? No, never. But would I know the answer? I think I would never know.
Only then did she step forward, wanting to see inside the house. I didn’t let her in; I said, “No need to look, everything is still the same as before.”
We set off again, turning our backs to the rising sun in the southeast, leaving it and the wooden house behind in the clouds.
The rising sun caught up with us, but the wooden house did not. Yet I knew it was waiting for us, waiting for the day we would return to find it.
Perhaps by that time, it would be willing to reveal the truth, to tell us what the mystery really is, or perhaps it would remain silent just like now.