W4: My Hero Fights Hunters

The building was so crowded that you could only see a narrow strip of sky. The vegetables in the convenience store downstairs were always wilted, and the numbers on the price tags were greener than the leaves. When the working uncles and aunts passed by, most just glanced at it and walked away.  Their small salaries had to cover rent and children's needs, so fresh vegetables felt like a luxury. In the children's lunch boxes, there were only pickles and ham sausages. No one remembered what fresh spinach tasted like, let alone picking tomatoes by hand.

Everything changed when an art teacher moved in. On her first day, she squatted in the corridor. She didn't have a paintbrush but a bag of tomato seeds. She picked up a broken cardboard box someone had discarded, cut it into a square box, and drew a smiling sun on it with red chalk. She thought that drilling a few holes would make it a new home for the vegetables.

At first, no one believed in her. An old lady passed by and told her not to waste her time. The corridor was pitch black, with no soil, so vegetables could not grow there. Two days later, property management came to post a notice saying the corridor could not be cluttered. The art teacher said nothing, and drew a big blank heart next to the notice. The next morning, the heart was filled with names, some signed by parents and children. Even the most serious security uncle drew a small smiley face.

How easy is it to grow things? When it’s hot, the seedlings droop and the leaves curl into small tubes. The art teacher led the children to collect plastic bottles, fill them with water and hang them on the railings, and poke small holes in the bottle caps to let the water slowly seep into the soil like a light rain. On rainy days, people always accidentally knock over the flower pots. She used old wool to wrap them for protection and posted a cartoon on the wall saying, "Be careful not to knock over". Once, someone picked the newly grown tomatoes. She didn't get angry but put a small bamboo basket by the vegetable garden and wrote "If you want to eat, please take some, remember to leave some for others."

Gradually, a new smell wafted into the corridor. At around seven in the morning, you could always hear the sound of watering. It was the aunt next door watering her shallots. The children returning from school liked to squat by the vegetable garden, counting strawberries, chirping like sparrows. In the evening, the fragrances from each kitchen changed. There were the scents of scrambled eggs and freshly picked spinach. Even the air in the corridor felt fresher. The harvest table posted on it grew longer. In March, they harvested a handful of shallots. In April, a dozen strawberries, and in May, the lettuce was enough for several families to make dumplings. There was a small sun behind each number.

Art teachers often say that being hungry isn’t scary, but what’s scary is not even trying. She posted vegetable-growing tips in the corridor with colored pens, saying you could grow garlic sprouts by cutting a beverage bottle, and lettuce by padding a foam box with newspapers. If there’s little sunlight,  you can grow green onions and bean sprouts, as these vegetables tolerate shade. She and her neighbors took turns watering the plants, anyone who was free could help, and everyone shared the harvest.

Now, this green magic is spreading to other corridors. Everyone has discovered that it doesn't take much skill to fight hunger. Find a sunny corner, use waste at home as a flower pot, and work with neighbors. Even if you can only grow a handful of green onions, it's a great victory. The greenery in the corridor is becoming denser, and the air is much fresher. Hope is like a seed. No matter how crowded the environment is or how dim the light, as long as you plant it, it will always grow green sprouts.