1
The morning light was soft when Tomás walked to his small laboratory.
Three pots sat in a row near his house. Three small líng cǎo plants, each telling a different story. He knelt beside them, notebook open, and began his daily observations.
Pot 1: The original transplanted plant. Forest soil, direct sun, alone. The dots were still there, but faint. Like distant stars in a cloudy sky. The leaves were healthy, but the magic was fading.
Pot 2: Forest soil, shade, alone. This one looked good. The dots were bright, almost as bright as the forest patch. The leaves were firm, green, alive.
Pot 3: Village soil, sun, together. Two plants in one pot. The dots were visible but not strong. Better than Pot 1, worse than Pot 2.
He wrote everything down, numbers and words and small drawings.
Day 7 of experiment.
Pot 1 (forest soil, sun, alone): dots very faint. Count: ~10, hard to see.
Pot 2 (forest soil, shade, alone): dots bright. Count: ~22.
Pot 3 (village soil, sun, together): dots medium. Count: ~15 each plant.
Conclusion: Light is the main factor. Shade = brighter dots. Company helps a little, but not as much as shade.
He looked at Pot 1, the first plant he had moved. It had been through a lot. Transplant shock, too much sun, loneliness. But it was still alive. Still trying.
I owe you a better home - he said quietly.
2
He found Wei Chen by the Shenmu, reading one of his scrolls.
I need your help - Tomás said - I want to move the first plant. To a place with more shade.
Wei Chen looked up.
Where?
Tomás pointed to the ground near the Shenmu. The great tree cast a wide shadow, especially in the afternoon. The soil there was dark, rich, moist.
Here. Under the Shenmu. The light is like the forest. And the soil is good.
Wei Chen considered this.
The Shenmu is sacred. But people plant things near it sometimes. Small flowers, herbs. I think it is allowed.
Tomás nodded.
Good. I want to do it today. And I want the children to help.
Wei Chen smiled.
They will like that.
3
Xiao Wang arrived first, as always.
We are moving the plant? The sick one?
Not sick. Just... in the wrong place. We are giving it a better home.
Wang nodded seriously, as if this was the most important mission in the world.
Mei came next, then Li Wei, then little Feng, who had found a small piece of bark to use as a notebook. Even some other children came, drawn by the excitement.
Tomás showed them the three pots and explained what he had learned.
This one - he pointed to Pot 2 - is happy. Shade is good for it. This one - Pot 3 - is okay. Company helps a little. But this one - Pot 1 - is sad. Too much sun. So we are moving it to a better place.
The children looked at Pot 1 with sympathy.
Poor plant - Mei said quietly.
It will be okay now - Tomás assured her.
He carefully lifted the pot and carried it to the spot under the Shenmu. The children followed in a small procession, serious and focused.
He knelt and began to dig a small hole. The soil was soft, easy to work. When it was ready, he gently removed the plant from its pot, careful not to damage the roots, and placed it in the ground.
Then he covered the roots, pressed the soil gently, and added a little water from his jar.
There - he said - New home.
The children crowded around to look.
Will it get better now? - Li Wei asked.
Tomás shrugged honestly.
I don't know. But I think yes. It has shade now. Good soil. And maybe... maybe the Shenmu will help too. Big trees sometimes help small ones.
He did not know if that was true, scientifically. But it felt right.
4
They sat under the Shenmu for a while, watching the newly planted líng cǎo.
Tomás used the moment to teach.
This is what scientists do. We watch. We learn. We make guesses. Then we try things. Sometimes we are right. Sometimes we are wrong. But we always learn.
Wang raised his hand.
So if the plant gets better, you were right?
Yes. If it gets better, my guess about shade was right.
And if it doesn't?
Then I learn something new. Maybe it needs something else. Maybe the soil here is different. Maybe the Shenmu's roots take too much water. Then I try something else.
Mei spoke softly:
So you never stop? Trying and learning?
Tomás smiled.
Never. That's the best part. There is always more to learn.
The children thought about this. It was a new idea for them. In the village, learning was about remembering what your parents taught you. It had an end. You learned what you needed, and then you stopped.
But Tomás was saying something different. Learning without end.
5
That afternoon, Chen Guang found him.
The old farmer looked worried, which for Chen Guang meant he looked slightly less stern than usual.
The sickness is back - he said without greeting - On my vegetables. But different. The green water does not work.
Tomás stood quickly.
Show me.
They walked to Chen Guang's field, where rows of vegetables stretched toward the forest. Near the edge, a patch of plants was clearly suffering.
Tomás knelt to examine them. The leaves had black spots, irregular, spreading. Not the yellow of too much water, not the white of aphids. Something new.
He touched one of the spots. It was slightly raised, almost fuzzy.
Hongo - he murmured in Spanish. Fungus.
He looked at Chen Guang.
This is different from before. The green water is for insects and some sicknesses. This needs something else.
Chen Guang's face tightened.
Can you fix it?
Tomás thought. He had no fungicides. No copper sulfate, no sulfur, nothing from his world. But maybe there was something here. Some plant, some natural remedy.
I don't know yet. But I will try. Give me time.
Chen Guang nodded slowly.
How much time?
Tomás looked at the spreading spots. Days, probably. A week at most.
A few days. I need to find something that works.
Chen Guang looked at him for a long moment. Then he said:
I will wait. But my family needs this food.
Tomás understood.
I know. I will do my best.
6
That evening, Tomás sat with his notebook, thinking.
A new problem. A fungus. In his world, he would know what to do. But here, he had to start from zero. What plants had antifungal properties? In Chile, people used garlic, rue, horsetail. But those plants did not exist here.
Or did they? Maybe there were equivalents. Plants with strong smells, with antimicrobial properties. Like the qīngliáng cǎo, but for fungus instead of bacteria.
He thought about the forest. About all the plants he had seen but not studied. About Granny Liu and her mushrooms. About Hunter Shi and his knowledge.
He needed help.
Tomorrow, he would go to Granny Liu. She knew the forest better than anyone. She might know a plant that could help.
And the children. They were learning to observe. Maybe they had seen something. A plant that bugs avoided. A leaf that never got spots.
He wrote in his notebook:
New problem: Fungus on Chen Guang's vegetables. Black spots, spreading. Need natural fungicide.
Possible sources:
- Granny Liu (mushroom expert, knows forest plants)
- Hunter Shi (knows the land)
- The children (they observe everything)
- New experiments with different plants
Hypothesis: Some plants in this world have antifungal properties. I need to find them.
He closed the notebook and looked out the door. The Shenmu stood dark against the stars. Somewhere under it, a small líng cǎo was beginning its new life.
Un problema a la vez. One problem at a time.