1
Three days after the transplant, Tomás noticed the change.
He had been visiting the líng cǎo every morning, notebook in hand, recording everything. The height of the plant. The color of the leaves. The number of golden dots he could count. He had even made a small grid with sticks to measure growth.
On the first day, the plant looked tired. The leaves were slightly droopy, which Tomás expected. Transplant shock. It would pass.
On the second day, the leaves had perked up. Good. The plant was adapting.
On the third day, he counted the dots.
There were fewer.
He counted again. And again. There was no mistake. The plant that had started with maybe twenty visible dots now had... fifteen? Sixteen? It was hard to be precise, but the difference was clear.
He knelt closer, examining the leaves one by one. The dots were still there, but fainter. Less bright. Like someone had turned down a dial.
He wrote in his notebook:
*Day 3 post-transplant. Dot count: approximately 15-16 (was 20+). Intensity: visibly reduced. Possible causes: transplant stress? Soil difference? Light difference? Need to compare with control plants in forest.*
He stood and looked toward the forest, where the original patch of líng cǎo grew. He needed to see them. Today.
2
Wei Chen found him walking toward the forest edge.
Tomás! Where are you going?
Tomás turned, his mind still on the dots.
To the líng cǎo patch. The original one. I need to compare.
Wei Chen fell into step beside him.
What happened?
The dots. On the transplanted plant. They are fading.
Wei Chen was quiet for a moment, processing this.
Fading? The líng is leaving?
Tomás shook his head.
I don't know. Maybe. Or maybe it's just... less visible. Something is different. I need to see the others.
They walked quickly, past the fields, past the wild grass, to the edge of the forest where Xiao Wang had made his discovery.
The líng cǎo patch was there, peaceful, unchanged. Tomás knelt beside the largest plant and examined it closely. The dots were bright. Clear. As many as he remembered.
He moved to another plant. Same thing. Bright dots, clearly visible.
He sat back on his heels, thinking.
The ones here are fine. The one in the village... is not.
Wei Chen crouched beside him.
So it is the move. The plant does not like the village.
Tomás nodded slowly.
Something about the village is different. The soil, maybe. Or the light. Or... something else.
He took out his notebook and began to write, comparing the two locations:
Forest patch:
- Soil dark, moist, rich in organic matter
- Light filtered through trees (partial shade)
- Surrounded by other líng cǎo, ferns, mosses
- Dots bright, numerous
Village plant:
- Soil from forest (same as patch)
- Light more direct (less shade)
- Alone in pot, no other líng cǎo nearby
- Dots fading
He looked at the list. The soil was the same. He had been careful to bring soil from the forest when he transplanted. So the difference was not the soil itself.
Light? Maybe. The village plant got more direct sun. But the forest plants got filtered light. Could that affect the dots?
Or... something else. Something about being alone. In the forest, the líng cǎo grew in a patch, close together. In the village, the transplanted plant was isolated.
He remembered Wei Chen's words from days ago: some plants need partners. Some share their líng. Some do not.
Wei Chen - he said - You told me once that some plants have partners. Like the guǒshù and the birds. Do you think líng cǎo has partners? Other plants? Or something in the soil?
Wei Chen considered this.
I do not know. The old texts do not talk about this plant. It is small, not powerful. Maybe no one thought to study it.
Tomás nodded. It made sense. The líng cǎo was not dramatic like the língzhī cǎo, not sacred like the Shenmu. It was just... there. Invisible to the people who only looked for power.
But to Tomás, it was perfect. Small enough to study. Safe enough to handle. Mysterious enough to be interesting.
I need to do another experiment - he said - I need to see if it's the light, or the company, or something else.
Wei Chen looked at him.
Another experiment? You just started one.
Tomás smiled.
That's how science works. One experiment gives questions. More experiments give answers.
3
Back in the village, Tomás prepared.
He took two more small líng cǎo from the forest patch, being careful not to damage the roots. This time, he set up two new pots.
Pot A: village soil, same light as the first transplanted plant (direct sun). But this time, he placed two líng cǎo together in the same pot. Company.
Pot B: forest soil, but placed in a shadier spot near his house, where the light was more like the forest. Alone.
Now he had:
Original transplanted plant: forest soil, direct sun, alone.
New Pot A: village soil, direct sun, together.
New Pot B: forest soil, shade, alone.
The forest patch: forest soil, shade, together (control).
He explained it to Wei Chen, who listened with intense concentration.
So you are testing... two things? Light and company?
Yes. If the dots fade in the original plant but not in Pot B, then maybe it's the light. If they fade in the original but not in Pot A, then maybe it's the company. If they fade in both, then maybe it's something else.
Wei Chen was quiet for a long moment. Then he said:
This is... very clever. But also very complicated. How do you remember all of it?
Tomás patted his notebook.
I write everything. That's why I have this.
Wei Chen looked at the notebook with new respect.
In our village, we do not write things like this. We remember. We tell stories. But stories change. They forget details. Your book... it does not forget.
Tomás nodded.
That's why science works. We write everything. So others can check. So we don't forget.
4
That afternoon, the children arrived for their observation lesson.
Xiao Wang came first, carrying a piece of bark covered in drawings. Then Mei, with a flat stone with scratches. Then Li Wei, with a large leaf with charcoal marks. Little Feng came too, though he had nothing to write on, just a stick and the dirt.
They sat under the Shenmu, and Tomás asked them to share.
Wang went first. He held up his bark proudly.
I watched the Shenmu for three days. I saw many things. First day, a bird came. Small, brown. It sat on a branch and sang. Second day, the same bird came again. Same branch. Third day, it brought another bird. They sang together.
Tomás nodded, impressed.
Good observation, Wang. You noticed a pattern. The bird came back. That's important.
Mei went next. Her stone had scratches that Tomás recognized as leaves and lines.
I watched the ground under the Shenmu - she said quietly - There are many small plants there. But they are not all the same. Some have big leaves. Some have small. Some grow fast. Some slow. I drew them.
Tomás looked at her drawings carefully. They were crude, but he could see the different shapes.
Excellent, Mei. You noticed that even in one place, plants can be different. That's a very good observation.
Li Wei held up his leaf. The charcoal marks were simple: a circle, lines, dots.
I watched the ants - he said - They go up the tree. They go down. They carry things. Small things. I don't know what.
Tomás smiled.
Ants are good to watch. They work hard. Maybe next time, try to see what they are carrying. Food? Leaves? Other insects?
Li Wei nodded seriously.
Little Feng had nothing to show, but he pointed to the Shenmu and said:
Big. Very big. Every day, big.
Tomás laughed.
Yes, Feng. It is very big. That's a good observation too.
He looked at the four children, their faces eager and proud.
You all did well. This is how scientists work. They watch, they remember, they share. Tomorrow, you will watch again. And the next day. And the next. Over time, you will see things that no one else sees.
The children nodded, serious, understanding that this was important.
5
That evening, Tomás sat by the fire with Wei Chen.
The children are learning - Wei Chen said - They talk about their observations all the time. Their parents are... confused. But also proud.
Tomás smiled.
That's good. Confused but proud is a good start.
Wei Chen was quiet for a moment. Then he said:
Some parents are asking questions. About you. About why you teach their children to watch trees and ants instead of helping with work.
Tomás felt the small chill again.
What do you tell them?
Wei Chen shrugged.
I tell them that watching is work. That understanding the world helps us live in it. That your way is strange but useful.
He paused.
Not everyone believes me. But no one is angry. Not yet.
Tomás nodded slowly. He had known this might happen. Change was always hard.
I don't want to cause problems - he said - I just... I see how curious they are. How they want to learn. In my world, we had a saying: "La curiosidad es el motor del conocimiento." Curiosity is the engine of knowledge. If we stop being curious, we stop learning.
Wei Chen repeated the words softly: "Curiosity is the engine of knowledge." He nodded.
That is a good saying. I will remember it.
They sat in silence for a while, watching the fire.
Then Wei Chen said:
Tomorrow, I want to see your experiment. The plants with the fading dots. I want to understand.
Tomás smiled.
Deal.
Wei Chen repeated it.
Deal.
6
That night, Tomás wrote in his notebook before sleeping.
He wrote about the fading dots, the new experiment, the children's observations. He wrote about Wei Chen's warning, and about his own fears. He wrote about the líng cǎo and its mysteries.
Then he wrote:
I have been here... how long? A month? Two? I have lost count. But in that time, I have learned so much. About this world, about its plants, about its people.
I have also taught. Xiao Wang, Mei, Li Wei, little Feng. They are learning to see. That is the most important thing. Not what to see, but how.
Wei Chen is learning too. He asks why now. He wants to understand the experiments, not just the results.
And the líng cǎo is teaching me. Its dots fade when it is alone, in the sun. Why? What does it need? Company? Shade? Something in the soil that I cannot see?
I do not know yet. But I will find out.
Un día a la vez.
He closed the notebook and lay down.
Outside, the Shenmu whispered. And somewhere in the dark, three pots held three small plants, their golden dots fading or holding steady, waiting to be understood.