Oh no! I'm surrounded by female ghosts!

Chapter 257 The Last Fairy Tale: "The Stars"

Courtyard houses in Beijing.

Su Ming raised his hand and pushed open the door.

In the empty courtyard, the ginkgo tree rustled softly, as if welcoming them home.

A ginkgo leaf rests quietly in the teacup on the stone table.

Su Ming slowly sat down at the stone table, picking up a ginkgo leaf with his fingertips.

After circling around twice, his gaze fell on the notebook lying quietly on the stone table.

Open the notebook.

Turn the pages one by one.

Until the brand-new handwriting came into view.

That was left behind by Chen Zhiwei.

She left behind a fairy tale.

This is the last fairy tale after "The Little Spider and the Black Stone", "The Wonderful World Outside the Well", and "The Little Spider's New Well".

This fairy tale is called: The Stars

As the days went by, the little spider gradually got used to life in the jar.

It learned to weave its net before dawn to catch the dew on the grass blades.

Learn to retreat to the deepest part of the jar when the wind is strong, and listen to the sound of the wind outside, which sounds like a song that crosses mountains and seas.

It even learned to recognize those things that are "terrible".

Those enormous figures rarely noticed it; when footsteps occasionally passed by, they would only cause the ground to tremble slightly for a moment before hurrying away.

The world may be vast, but as long as you treat the jar as a well, you can get by.

But every night, the little spider couldn't help but look up.

The sky was full of stars, some bright, some dim, some seemed to be blinking, and some seemed to be running.

It couldn't tell which one was the one it had seen at the wellhead.

Perhaps that one has long since gone out, or perhaps it never truly belonged to me.

It just remembers the feeling: bright and warm, making its heart warm whenever it thinks about it.

One evening at dusk, a little ant passed by the mouth of a jar and saw a little spider staring blankly at the sky.

"What are you looking at?" the little ant asked curiously.

"Look at the stars," the little spider replied.

"What's so interesting about stars?" the little ant asked, puzzled. "You see them every day, and they're the same every day."

The little spider thought for a moment and shook its head, saying, "It's different."

"What's different?"

The little spider pointed to the sky.

"The brightest one was in the east last night, and it's in the west tonight."

"It's been moving, just very slowly."

"You can't tell if you stare at it."

"But if you look at it every day, you'll find that it has come a very, very long way."

The little ant tilted its head, full of doubt: "How do you know it traveled a long way?"

"Because so too," the little spider said softly.

"I crawled out of a well, walked across meadows, climbed over bare trees, dodged floods and terrible things, and finally settled in this jar."

"I don't even know how far the road I've traveled has gone."

"But I know that every step of the way has made me different."

After a long silence, the little ant asked, "So, are you happy now?"

The little spider was stunned.

It never thought about this question.

When it was at the bottom of the well, although it was dark, it was not afraid, because it had a star in its heart.

When it climbed out of the well, it was scared but also curious, because it wanted to know what that star was.

When it moved into the jar, it felt lonely but at ease, because it had finally found a place like a well.

But is it happy?

After thinking for a long time, it finally said, "I don't know."

"But I remember that the star I first cherished wasn't because it was so bright, but because in the darkest places, its presence or absence made a difference."

The little ant pressed on, "And now?"

"Now do you feel that having it or not having it makes no difference?"

The little spider was stunned again.

It looked down at its own heart.

That star hadn't felt warm to it in a long time.

It tried to recall what the star looked like—bright and warm—but what did it resemble?

Like a drop of dew passing through sunlight.

Like a leaf being gently lifted by the wind.

It's like everything unseen at the bottom of a well suddenly has a name.

Like a dream I had long ago, only a blurry shadow remains after I wake up.

"I don't know," the little spider said, shaking its head.

That night, the little spider didn't weave a web.

It removed some of the spiderwebs from the jar, making the slits of light visible at the jar's opening a little larger.

Moonlight filtered through the cracks, shining on it like a fine layer of salt.

In a daze, it suddenly remembered what the black stone had said: "Where exactly is that star you've always been thinking about?"

At that time, it thought the stars were in the sky.

But now it thinks, maybe not.

It climbed out of the jar, onto a nearby rock, raised its head, and gazed at the starry sky.

It thought: If that star is really in the sky, why can't it find it after traveling so far?

Unless that star was never in the sky at all.

It suddenly understood.

It remembers that star, not because the star actually exists, but because it once needed a little light in a very dark place.

It imagined that glimmer of light as a star, kept it in its heart, and thus it was no longer afraid.

But when it finally emerged from the darkness and saw the real sun, the real moon, and the real starry sky...

It then realized that the star was actually the light within its own heart.

It never lost that star.

It simply returned it to itself.

The little spider stood on the rock and suddenly felt a warm sensation in its chest, just like it had been a long, long time ago.

It smiled.

It climbed back into the jar and began to weave a web anew.

This time, it didn't weave the net completely, but left a small hole, just enough for it to see the sky.

From that day on, the little spider stopped looking for that star.

Because it knows that no matter where it goes, no matter if the well is blocked by stones, no matter if the jar is blown over by the wind, there is always a light in its heart.

That light was something it lit up itself in the darkest place.

Later, someone asked the little spider, "Have you ever seen stars?"

The little spider said, "I've seen it before."

Where is it?

The little spider thought for a moment and said, "It's in the place I remember."

"What place is that?"

"A well."

The little spider described earnestly: "There was a very, very dark well, and a very, very small spider lived in it."

"What happened to that little spider afterwards?"

"It grew up," the little spider said with a smile. "Because it discovered that it wasn't looking for stars; it just happened to pass through a dark place on its way to becoming a star."

The story is finished, and the dust has settled.

The story of the little spider has come to an end.

Chen Zhiwei left the world with four fairy tales.

What is this story about? What is it about?

Su Ming no longer needed to think, nor did he need to find someone to interpret his thoughts.

Because Chen Zhiwei in the book almost completely broke herself down and fed herself to Su Ming bit by bit without reservation.

I know it all too well, and I understand it all too clearly.

After reading it only once, Su Ming understood everything.

He gently closed the notebook and solemnly placed it into his backpack.

He stretched his limbs and looked at Yu Mengnian standing in the courtyard.

Yu Meng's gaze was calm, and her voice was indifferent: "Su Ming, you should go see Bai Xinglan."

Su Ming was taken aback, then nodded after a moment and said, "Okay, I understand."