1
The morning light was still soft when Tomás returned to the forest edge with Xiao Wang.
The boy walked ahead, proud, leading the way to his discovery. Behind them, Li Wei and Mei followed, curious. Wei Chen had promised to come later, after finishing his morning readings.
Here! - Wang pointed - My plant!
Tomás knelt beside the small rosette. In the daylight, he could see it more clearly. Thick leaves, almost succulent, arranged in a perfect circle. Green, with those faint golden dots scattered across the surface. Not glowing, exactly, but present. Visible.
He touched one leaf gently. It was firm, cool, slightly waxy. He bent closer and smelled it. Nothing strong. Just a faint, green smell, like fresh grass.
He took out his notebook and began to sketch, while the children watched in silence.
Wang - he said - You found this. You should name it.
Wang's eyes went wide.
Name it? Me?
Yes. You discovered it. In my world, the person who finds a new plant gets to name it.
Wang looked at the plant, then at Tomás, then back at the plant. He thought hard.
Wang's plant? - he tried.
Tomás laughed.
That's one way. But maybe something that describes it? Like... what do you see?
Wang studied the plant.
Small. Green. Dots. Grows near forest.
Tomás nodded.
Good observations. In my language, we might call it "small dotted forest plant." But in your language, maybe something shorter.
Mei, shy as always, whispered:
Líng cǎo? Small líng plant?
Tomás looked at her.
That's good, Mei. Líng cǎo. It has líng, but it's small. Not like the big língzhī cǎo.
Wang considered this. Then he nodded firmly.
Líng cǎo. My plant is Líng cǎo.
Tomás wrote it in his notebook: "Líng cǎo. Discovered by Xiao Wang. Small rosette plant, faint golden dots. Forest edge."
Then he looked at Wang.
Congratulations, Scientist Wang. You have named your first species.
Wang puffed up with pride.
2
Tomás spent the next hour examining the líng cǎo patch.
There were maybe fifteen plants in total, spread across a small area near the forest edge. Some were larger, with more dots. Some were tiny, just sprouts. He noted the soil: dark, moist, rich in organic matter. The light: partial shade, filtered through the trees. The neighbors: ferns, mosses, small grasses.
He took samples. One whole plant, carefully dug up with roots intact, to be transplanted. Leaves from three others, for closer study. Soil from around the roots, in a small cloth bag.
The children watched every move, asking questions.
Why take the whole plant? - Li Wei asked.
To see if it grows in a different place. If the dots change.
Why take leaves?
To look at them more. To see inside.
Why soil?
Because the soil might have something the plant needs. Something that makes the dots.
The children nodded, satisfied with the answers.
When Tomás finished, he had a small pile of samples. He wrapped them carefully in large leaves, the way Granny Liu had taught him.
Now we go back - he said - And we start the experiment.
3
Back in the village, Tomás prepared his workspace.
He had cleared a small area near his house, where the sun reached for part of the day. There, he placed the transplanted líng cǎo in a clay pot with soil from its original location. Next to it, he placed another pot with soil from the village fields. In that second pot, he planted a few leaves, hoping they might root.
The children watched from a safe distance, fascinated.
Two pots - Wang observed - Why two?
Tomás explained, using simple words:
This one - he pointed to the first - has the same soil as the forest. This one - the second - has village soil. If the plant grows better in one, maybe the soil matters. If the dots change, maybe the soil matters too.
Mei pointed to the original patch, far away.
What about the ones there? The ones you didn't move?
Tomás smiled. Good question.
Those are the control. We watch them too. If they change and these don't, or the other way, we learn something.
The children nodded, though Tomás could see they did not fully understand. That was okay. Understanding would come with time.
He stood and looked at his small "laboratory." A clay pot, a patch of dirt, some leaves. It was not much. But it was a start.
4
Wei Chen arrived as Tomás was finishing.
I heard you are now a farmer of spiritual plants - he said, smiling.
Tomás laughed.
Something like that. I want to see if this líng cǎo can grow here. And if the dots change.
Wei Chen crouched to examine the pots.
They are smaller than the língzhī cǎo. Less dangerous, I think. But still... líng is líng. Be careful.
Tomás nodded.
I will. And the children will help. They need to learn too.
Wei Chen looked at the children, who were now examining the pots with intense concentration.
You are changing them, you know. They did not ask questions before. Now they ask all the time.
Tomás shrugged.
Questions are good. Questions are how we learn.
Wei Chen was quiet for a moment. Then he said:
In the village, some people are starting to talk. About you. About the children. About what you are teaching them.
Tomás felt a small chill.
Good talk or bad talk?
Wei Chen considered.
Both. Some say you are making the children smarter, more useful. Others say you are filling their heads with strange ideas. Ideas that are not from our ancestors.
Tomás thought about this. He had expected something like this eventually.
What do you think?
Wei Chen looked at him directly.
I think our ancestors were smart. They survived here for many generations. But they did not know everything. If they did, we would not have sickness in the plants. We would not have hunger in bad years. We would not have questions without answers.
He paused.
You bring new questions. New ways of seeing. That is... uncomfortable. But maybe necessary.
Tomás nodded slowly.
I'm not trying to change your ancestors. I'm just trying to understand. And the children... they want to understand too. That's all.
Wei Chen smiled.
I know. But not everyone sees the difference.
5
That afternoon, Tomás sat with the children under the Shenmu.
He had brought his notebook and showed them the pages he had written about the líng cǎo. The drawings, the notes, the questions. The children leaned in, fascinated by the strange symbols.
What does this say? - Li Wei asked, pointing to a line in Spanish.
Tomás translated:
"Líng cǎo. Small plant with golden dots. Discovered by Xiao Wang. Needs more observation."
Wang glowed with pride.
And this? - Mei pointed to another line.
"Hypothesis: the dots may be related to something in the soil. Experiment: transplant to different soil, observe changes."
The children did not know the word "hypothesis," but they understood the idea.
So you are testing? - Wang asked - To see if you are right?
Yes. That's what scientists do. They guess, then they test.
Mei thought about this for a moment.
Can we guess too? And test?
Tomás smiled.
Of course. That's how you learn.
He looked at the three children, their faces eager, curious, alive with questions.
Okay. Here's your first assignment. Every day, you will come here, to the Shenmu. You will look at this tree. And you will write down one thing you notice. One thing you did not notice before. It can be anything. A leaf that changed color. An insect on the bark. A bird that comes to the branches. Anything.
The children nodded seriously.
Then, after a week, we will share what we saw. And we will see what we learned.
Wang raised his hand.
Can we use our own books? Like you?
Tomás nodded.
Yes. Use bark, stones, leaves. Whatever you have. Write or draw. The important thing is to observe.
The children ran off, excited, to find their "notebooks."
6
That evening, alone in his house, Tomás examined the líng cǎo leaves under the light of his small oil lamp.
He had placed them on a flat stone, carefully arranged. Under the yellow light, the golden dots were faint but visible. He took a needle, made from a sharpened splinter of bone, and gently scraped one of the dots.
A tiny amount of golden dust came off. He collected it on a piece of clean cloth and held it close to the light.
It sparkled. Just barely, but definitely sparkled.
He wrote in his notebook:
"Líng cǎo leaf sample. Golden dots can be scraped off. Under light, they sparkle. Possibly crystalline? Or something else? Need magnification. Need better light. Need..."
He stopped. What he needed was a microscope. A spectrometer. A whole laboratory. And he had none of those things.
But he had patience. He had observation. He had questions.
He looked at the tiny golden dust on the cloth.
Pequeño misterio, he thought. Pero algún día te entenderé.
He wrapped the cloth carefully and placed it with his other samples. Then he lay down and closed his eyes.
Outside, the Shenmu whispered. And somewhere in the village, three children were drawing trees on pieces of bark, learning to observe.