She was behind him. She was on her way home from a house call.

“I’m just an idler.”

“You are our constant ideal.”

The old director was hanging around. He had been lying under the big banyan tree and talking with Tauber for a long time, and then they went to dinner in a little café. As they took seats at a table, the waiter looked away from them. The director figured that he had stopped glowing when he entered the café. So in the eyes of the waiter, he was probably just a dark shadow.

In the evening, he went to Chunxiu’s herb garden. He was transfixed by the sight.

Spoon was frantically destroying the plants. Spoon had turned over the soil of about half the garden with a spade: ruined herbs were everywhere. What an appalling sight! As soon as the director appeared, Spoon dropped the spade and ran away.

The director knelt at the edge of the garden and began to weep.

Head drooping, Gray approached him. Gray said, “Director, I can’t entirely blame Spoon; I have my own doubts about life. I suddenly felt that these herbs were driving me crazy! Spoon did what I wanted to do.”

“But you’re not mad now, are you?”

“Well, no. That makes me worse. Spoon and I are devils. We don’t deserve to live in this world.”

“You’re good kids. It’s okay to go mad sometimes. Fengshui and the people here will heal your trauma. I’ve heard your Mrs. Yi say—”

“Don’t mention her, we hate her! Ah, what am I saying?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about . . . It’s all right. Go home and rest, son. When you wake up in the morning, you will see a different world.”

Gray howled like a wolf and ran away.

The director ached all over, as if his joints were dislocated. He huddled on the ground, moaning. It was quiet all around. The ruined herbs must have died or fainted. Chunxiu’s house was dark. Where had the couple gone?

It was a long time before he regained his strength.

He didn’t want to go back to the lean-to tonight. He went to the brookside, chose a comfortable place, and lay down. The moon was red, the stream was bright, and there was a noise under the water. It was a night of passion. But whose passion? Did it belong to Gray and Spoon? Of course, it should belong to them. They were struggling, and struggling people were passionate. Look, Chunxiu was coming. Her hair was a little messy.

“Director, I have confidence in this young couple—they will survive,” Chunxiu said.

“Yes, that’s youth.” The director groaned.

“All the signs point to a bright future.”

“Chunxiu, I feel that the brook water is rising for you.”

“And for you, dear director. Please go back to the lean-to; it’s too damp here.”

“Okay, you go first. I’ll return in a moment.”

She left. The stream calmed down, becoming so still that it seemed a little sad. The moon was no longer red; it had become a thin shadow.