บท 62: A Poem as Old as Snow

Yasushi's group arrived at the edge of the enigmatic structure, pausing just outside its curious confines. The building before them resembled an oversized ice cream cone, a form that struck Jingliu with a mix of astonishment and bewilderment. Her eyes widened as she took in the peculiar sight.

"Why...is it shaped like that?" she asked, her voice tinged with both fascination and confusion, as though grappling with the very logic behind the design.

Yasushi, equally puzzled, responded with a shrug of uncertainty. "I have no idea. Furuya never mentioned anything about it," he said, his tone reflecting his own lack of insight. He grasped Jingliu's hand firmly, providing a subtle comfort as the trio proceeded to the building's entrance.

Upon entering, they were greeted by Yinhaie, who produced a distinctive access card with an air of quiet confidence. The security personnel, without a hint of hesitation, granted them passage, an act that left Yasushi visibly taken aback.

"That's new, what is it? Something exclusive for us?" Yasushi inquired, his eyes narrowing in on the card, a mirrored curiosity evident in Jingliu's gaze.

Yinhaie turned to face them, her lips curling into a knowing smile. "Yes. It's part of the arrangement we have with them. That's why we enjoy certain privileges while we're here," she explained, her tone carrying a mix of assurance and mystery. "Please follow me," she added, taking the lead with an effortless grace.

They proceeded further, advancing down a seemingly endless, tube-like hallway. This passageway, which seemed to stretch on indefinitely, consumed about five minutes of their time before they finally emerged into an expansive semi-circular room. The scene that greeted them was unlike anything they had anticipated.

The room was teeming with peculiar "melon-like" characters, cartoonish in design, their exaggerated features giving the space an almost surreal, whimsical aura. These figures were omnipresent, hanging from the ceiling as cardboard cutouts, appearing on numerous small screen TVs scattered around the room, and even gracing the packaging of various snacks. It was as though the entire room had been transformed into a shrine dedicated to these fantastical melon characters.

Yasushi, taking in the scene for the first time, felt a wave of bewilderment wash over him. He had always known the snow-melons enjoyed a certain level of popularity, but he had never imagined it extended to this degree of commercialization.

"You seem surprised," Jingliu whispered, her voice barely audible, yet infused with a note of curiosity, as she observed his reaction.

Yasushi turned to her, his expression a mixture of disbelief and bemusement. "I've only ever seen these a few times before," he began, his voice tinged with a trace of nostalgia. "I didn't think they made food and merch for it. When I went with my parents, I saw some small stickers and stuff — just the typical low-effort merchandise, you know? But…this is just odd to me," he admitted, shaking his head slowly, as if trying to reconcile the sight before him with his memories.

The room, bathed in the soft glow of the screens and the muted colors of the melon characters, seemed to pulse with a peculiar energy. It was a world unto itself, a blend of the familiar and the fantastical, where the boundaries between reality and imagination blurred.

Jingliu nodded, her gaze wandering around the room, taking in every detail. "It's like stepping into a different world," she mused, her voice reflecting the same sense of wonder that Yasushi felt.

"Welcome!" A mascot of the same character suddenly appeared before them, bouncing with an almost infectious energy. "Today, you are our only guests! So I, Snowelon, will guide you around our magical world!" he proclaimed, his voice bright and cheerful, as he winked at Yasushi's group.

"…Snowelon?" Jingliu echoed, her voice laden with disbelief, as she processed the unusual name.

"That's right! I am Snowelon, the greatest snow-melon harvester around! Follow me, and I will show you the rich history of this wonderful and unique melon!" Snowelon exclaimed, twirling around with a flourish before bouncing away, the group hastily falling in step behind him.

As they followed the animated guide, Jingliu leaned closer to Yasushi, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. "…Snowelon sounds like something you would make up. It sounds strange…"

Yasushi, suppressing a chuckle, whispered back, "I told you the owners like doing things like that. And hey, at least my names are a little more unique."

The hallway ahead of them seemed to stretch into a realm of fantasy, each step echoing with the playful antics of Snowelon. The mascot led them through a labyrinth of exhibits, each corner revealing another facet of the snow-melon's storied past. There were displays of ancient tools used for harvesting, interactive screens detailing the genetic evolution of the fruit, and dioramas depicting idyllic snow-melon fields under a perpetually blue sky.

Snowelon, never missing a beat, provided a running commentary. "Here, we see the first known snow-melon seeds, discovered by a humble farmer centuries ago. Legend has it, he stumbled upon these seeds after a particularly harsh winter, and from them grew the very first snow-melon, resilient and sweet," he said, his tone imbued with a storyteller's flair.

Yasushi, his curiosity piqued by the peculiarities of the place, paused and fixed his gaze on the lively mascot. "Snowelon," he began, his voice cutting through the animated atmosphere, "there are rumors around the city that the first snow-melon seed was given to the first mayor by the goddess Hakufubuki. What are your thoughts about that?"

For a moment, Snowelon's exuberant bouncing ceased. He turned to face Yasushi, his expression transforming into one of solemnity. Despite maintaining his character-like voice, there was a new depth to his tone. "It's true," he affirmed, his smile imbued with a gentle wisdom. "This snow-melon was indeed granted to us by the goddess herself. Did you know? There is a lost little poem about this very tale. Would you like to hear it?"

The unexpected turn of events intrigued the trio. The prospect of a hidden poem, a piece of forgotten lore, piqued their interest. They nodded in unison, eager to delve deeper into the mythos of the snow-melon.

Snowelon, pausing for a brief moment as if summoning the ancient words from some distant memory, began to recount the poem. His voice, though still playful, carried a lyrical cadence, transforming the space around them into a realm where history and legend intertwined.

"Once upon a winter's night so clear,

When the world lay wrapped in a blanket of frost,

The goddess Hakufubuki did appear,

Bearing a gift, for none to exhaust.

She descended from realms where snows never cease,

To a land gripped by cold, in desperate need,

And placed in the hands of the town's first peace,

A seed of wonder, the snow-melon seed.

'Tend this gift with love and care,'

She whispered in the mayor's ear,

'And it will flourish beyond compare,

A symbol of hope, year after year.'

The mayor, with reverence, bowed his head,

Understanding the weight of this divine boon,

And through the land, the legend spread,

Of the goddess's gift under the moon.

Now, every fruit that graces our hand,

Carries her blessing, pure and true,

A bond between the snow and the land,

A tale eternal, ever renewed."

As the last words of the poem lingered in the air, a profound silence enveloped the room. The whimsical surroundings seemed to take on a new dimension, imbued with the sacred history Snowelon had just unveiled. Yasushi, Jingliu, and Yinhaie stood there, each lost in their thoughts, contemplating the deeper significance of the snow-melon that had seemed, moments ago, merely a commercial spectacle.

Jingliu was the first to break the silence. "That was...beautiful," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with genuine awe.

Yasushi nodded, his earlier skepticism replaced by a newfound respect. "There's so much more to this than I ever imagined," he admitted, his voice reflecting a sense of wonder.

Snowelon resumed his cheerful demeanor, the solemnity of the moment giving way to his usual buoyant self. "And that, my dear guests, is the heart of our magical world. The snow-melon is not just a fruit; it's a legacy, a piece of our very soul," he declared, his eyes twinkling with the joy of sharing this hidden truth.

With those evocative words still echoing in their minds, the tour resumed, their steps now imbued with a contemplative weight. Each of the three found themselves grappling with the same dilemma: should they take Snowelon's words at face value, or were his tales merely crafted for the delight of children who might pose similar questions?

Yinhaie and Jingliu walked in silence, their minds a whirl of uncertainty, each unable to settle on what to believe. The story Snowelon told was enchanting, yet its fantastical nature made it difficult to discern its truth from mere myth.

Yasushi, however, found himself leaning towards belief. For him, the words of the magical melon character resonated deeply. Yasushi Futakao was not merely an ordinary man; he was someone who had been reincarnated into this world by some otherworldly entity, a fact that colored his perception of reality in unique hues.

The idea that the goddess Hakufubuki might truly exist, that she had bestowed the first snow-melon seed upon the city's founding mayor, seemed not only plausible but profoundly meaningful to Yasushi. He pondered the mysterious forces that had brought him to this world, the inexplicable phenomena he had witnessed since his arrival. The wonders and impossibilities of this city — how else could they be explained if not through the intervention of divine or supernatural forces?

+-+

"Wasn't that enjoyable?" Yinhaie asked, her voice cutting through the quiet hum of the car as they made their way back home.

"Yeah," Yasushi replied, his mind still lingering on the day's events. "I didn't expect them to show us the entire process of making the snow-melons. It was quite simple in the end... nothing changed except the seed looking rather unique." His gaze was fixed on the passing scenery, though his thoughts were far from the mundane landscape.

Jingliu sat beside him, her eyes closed, her exhaustion palpable. The tour had stretched longer than any of them had anticipated, filled with unexpected twists and a plethora of activities. Despite their weariness, they had been well-fed and had collected a bounty of souvenirs by the tour's conclusion, leaving them with little room for complaints. Yet, even amidst the lingering fatigue, Yasushi's thoughts kept circling back to the poem Snowelon had recited earlier.

Yinhaie glanced into the rearview mirror, catching sight of Jingliu's serene, if tired, expression. A gentle giggle escaped her lips. "Lady Jingliu seems quite tired, doesn't she? I haven't seen her that curious in a long time — well, apart from her intrigue with you," she admitted, her eyes twinkling with a knowing smile.

Yasushi turned his head slightly, looking at Jingliu as she rested, a soft smile playing on his lips. "It was a lot to take in," he said, almost to himself. "The stories, the legends, everything felt so... alive. It's been a while since something has captured her interest so completely."

Jingliu stirred slightly, her eyelids fluttering open. She offered a faint smile, acknowledging their conversation. "It was more than just the tour," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "There was something about Snowelon's story... about the poem. It felt like there was a deeper truth to it, something beyond the surface."

Yasushi nodded, understanding exactly what she meant. "The poem, it felt almost like a key to something greater, didn't it?" he mused. "A glimpse into a world where myths and reality intertwine seamlessly. It's as if we were being shown not just a story, but a piece of the city's soul."

Yinhaie, listening to their exchange, felt a warm sense of connection with her companions. "Perhaps that's the true magic of the snow-melons," she suggested, her tone reflective. "They aren't just fruits; they are vessels of our collective imagination and history. They remind us that there is always more to see and understand, if only we open our minds to the possibilities."

The car fell into a comfortable silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts, yet feeling a deep sense of unity. The tour had given them more than just a glimpse into the creation of a beloved fruit; it had opened their minds to the rich tapestry of stories and beliefs that underpinned their world. It was a reminder that even in the most ordinary of things, there could be extraordinary stories waiting to be discovered.