The second year began with the arrival of an unexpected guest.
Li Yuan was fixing the wooden fence around his small garden when he heard a sound he had never heard on this island—the sound of an animal larger than the birds or squirrels that usually roamed around.
He put down his wooden tools and listened more carefully. Through his Understanding of Water, he picked up the vibration of careful footsteps, regular breathing, and—surprisingly—no sense of fear or aggression.
A young deer emerged from behind the bushes at the edge of the forest. Its fur was a beautiful golden-brown with white spots, and its large eyes radiated curiosity rather than fear.
Li Yuan didn't move, allowing the animal to observe him. For almost two years, he had never seen a large mammal on this island. Birds, small lizards, insects—yes. But never a deer.
The deer approached the plant formation in Li Yuan's yard, sniffing the air carefully. When it reached the edge of the spiritual circle, the animal stopped and trembled—the same response the plants had shown when they first felt Li Yuan's resonance.
"You can feel it too," Li Yuan said in a low voice.
The deer lifted its head and stared at Li Yuan with calm eyes. In that gaze, Li Yuan felt something familiar—the same clarity he saw in the spiritually evolved plants.
This animal had also been touched by the island's spiritual energy.
Li Yuan slowly approached the deer, extending his hand with very slow movements. The deer didn't run. Instead, with great caution, it stepped forward and sniffed Li Yuan's palm.
As the deer's nose touched his skin, Li Yuan felt a gentle connection—not communication like with the plants, but something simpler and more genuine. Mutual curiosity. Acceptance. Even something that could be called friendship.
"Welcome," Li Yuan whispered, and the deer seemed to nod before walking toward the small spring near the house to drink.
From that day on, the young deer—which Li Yuan named Qinglu because the color of its fur was like morning dew—became a regular visitor. Every morning, the animal would come to drink from the spring, then spend some time lying near the plant formation, as if enjoying the spiritual vibrations radiated from it.
Qinglu's presence changed the dynamics of Li Yuan's daily life. He began to arrange his routine to accommodate the presence of his new friend. Mornings were not just for walking around the island, but also for sitting with Qinglu in the yard, enjoying the companionable silence.
"You teach me about friendship without words," Li Yuan often said to the deer while scratching the back of its ears.
Qinglu also introduced Li Yuan to parts of the island he had never explored. The deer had an instinctive knowledge of hidden paths through the forest, secret water sources, and places where the wild fruits grew the sweetest.
Following Qinglu, Li Yuan discovered a small valley in the northern part of the island hidden among the hills. In that valley, there was a fertile meadow with wild flowers he had never seen before—flowers with light blue petals that glowed softly in the sunlight.
"Spiritual flowers," Li Yuan realized when he felt the subtle vibrations from the field of flowers.
Not as strong as the resonance from the plants in his formation at home, but clear enough to be felt. These flowers had also spiritually evolved, perhaps because they grew in soil rich with spiritual minerals from an underground spring.
Li Yuan spent the afternoon in that valley, learning about this new ecosystem. Qinglu lay beside the field of flowers, looking very peaceful and content. Sometimes, the wind carried the scent of the flowers, creating a kind of natural aromatherapy that made the mind clear and calm.
"A natural spiritual spa," Li Yuan chuckled, a foreign term that popped into his mind from a nearly forgotten memory of the past.
The seasons changed with Qinglu's presence, which made everything feel more alive. When the rainy season came, the deer took shelter under an extra roof Li Yuan had built especially for it next to the house. When it was dry, they both sought shade in the spiritual spring cave, where the air was always cool and humid.
Qinglu also introduced Li Yuan to the island's night life he had never known. The deer was a nocturnal animal, active when the moon shone brightly. Following his friend, Li Yuan began to explore the island at night, discovering a completely different world.
Certain flowers only bloomed at night, emitting a very faint bioluminescent light. Some trees released a different scent in the dark, creating an almost magical atmosphere. Even the sounds of the night—owls, insects, the rustling of leaves—had a different rhythm and harmony from the sounds of the day.
"This island has two faces," Li Yuan mused while sitting on a small hill, looking at the expanse of the island that shimmered faintly in the moonlight. Qinglu lay beside him, chewing on grass calmly.
A daytime face that was warm, open, full of activity. And a nighttime face that was mysterious, contemplative, full of hidden wonders.
The second year also brought a change in Li Yuan's relationship with the plant formation at his house. With Qinglu's presence, the dynamics of spiritual communication became more complex. The deer did not communicate like the plants, but its presence added a new layer to the small spiritual network that had formed.
Li Yuan began to understand that every form of life has its own way of interacting with spiritual energy. Plants communicate through a slow and profound resonance. Qinglu interacts through a simple but sincere physical and emotional presence.
"Spiritual diversity," he noted in one of his meditative sessions in the spring cave. "Every living being has its own way of touching the Dao."
Toward the end of the second year, Li Yuan realized that he had built a small community on this island. Not a human community with all its complexities, but a simpler and purer community—consisting of wise plants, a sincere animal, and himself, who was learning to appreciate simplicity.
One afternoon, while sitting in the yard with Qinglu and surrounded by the plants in the formation, Li Yuan felt something warm flow into his chest. It wasn't a new spiritual understanding or a profound enlightenment, but something simpler: happiness.
Happiness that didn't depend on achievements or future goals. Happiness born from an appreciation of the present moment, of simple friendship, of the beauty of uncomplicated life.
"This," he said to Qinglu while scratching the animal's neck, "this is what I've been searching for for thousands of years, without even realizing it."
The deer looked up and stared at him with clear eyes, as if it understood. Then Qinglu laid its head on Li Yuan's lap, a simple gesture that brought more peace than all the deep meditations he had ever done.
The sun set with orange and pink colors, painting the sky with beautiful brushstrokes. The night wind began to blow, carrying the scent of the sea and of life. In the distance, the sound of the waves provided a familiar lullaby.
Li Yuan closed his eyes and listened to the symphony of life around him—the regular sound of Qinglu's breathing, the gentle vibrations of the plants, the whispers of the wind in the leaves. In that harmony, he found a kind of peace he never imagined could exist.
A peace born not from high spiritual achievement, but from a simple acceptance of life as it is.
The second year ended with Li Yuan feeling more "human" than he had in thousands of years. His friendship with Qinglu had taught him about connections that don't require words, about simple loyalty, and about the joy that can be found in shared daily routines.
"Thank you," he whispered on the last night of the second year, looking up at the stars shining in the clear sky. "For teaching me that sometimes, what we need isn't a deeper understanding, but a more sincere friendship."