Wangchuan County was home to Cenling Mountain, famous for its sour pears. The entire mountain was planted with pear trees.
March was the season when pear blossoms were in full bloom. Thousands upon thousands of trees blossomed, covering the mountain in snowy white, attracting many tourists from elsewhere to come and admire the view.
Huo Chuxue happened to arrive during this wonderful season and naturally didn’t want to miss it. Besides, her work was usually busy, and she was cooped up in the hospital all day. Opportunities for her to travel were truly few and far between.
When Zhou Mo and Zou Yi heard she was going to Cenling to play, they both offered to accompany her. Zou Yi was a local and could even act as her guide. However, Huo Chuxue politely declined. The young couple were newlyweds, right in the midst of their sweetness. How could she have the nerve to bother them?
She drove to Cenling alone. Solo travel had its own unique charm.
There were many routes leading to Cenling, but each was a winding, twisting mountain path. Cars couldn’t go up; one could only hike.
Huo Chuxue booked a hotel at the foot of the mountain, parked her car in the hotel’s parking lot, and hiked up by herself.
Her plan was simple: go up the mountain to see the pear blossoms. It wouldn’t take more than a few hours before she had to come back down. Then she would go to the next scenic spot and continue her tour.
—
Cenling wasn’t very high. Normally, hiking to the summit took less than two hours. However, because the local area had just experienced heavy rain two days prior, the path up wasn’t in great condition, and Huo Chuxue spent quite a bit of time on it.
Tourists streamed along the path the whole way, all drawn by the pear blossoms covering the mountains and fields.
The higher one went towards the summit, the more beautiful the pear blossoms became, and the scenery grew increasingly pleasant.
Although Huo Chuxue studied medicine and had a rigorous mindset, she had also inherited some of her mother Xie Mingrou’s artistic sensibility. She liked these flowers and plants. Seeing them always improved her mood.
Immersed in this sea of pear blossoms, the fatigue of recent days was instantly swept away.
When she traveled, she disliked following the crowds. She preferred to take paths less traveled, heading towards places with few people. Those places always held unexpectedly beautiful scenery waiting for her.
After reaching the summit and starting her descent, she didn’t follow the main crowd but took another small path instead.
The scenery along this other small path was surprisingly beautiful. Not only were there thousands of pear blossom trees, but also many peach trees in full, riotous bloom.
Not only that, but halfway down the mountain, she also discovered a small villa.
A two-and-a-half-story villa with its own small courtyard, surrounded by a fence.
The house looked aged, somewhat weathered and desolate. Much of the paint on the exterior walls had peeled off, and the entire wall was covered in ivy, lush and green. It was unclear if anyone lived there.
This was probably the only house on the entire Cenling Mountain.
In this prime tourist location where land was worth its weight in gold, someone had actually managed to build a villa here. The owner’s status was undoubtedly either wealthy or noble.
The villa, surrounded by pear blossoms covering the mountains and fields, hidden among the hills and far from the noise of the mundane world, gave her the illusion of having stumbled into a Peach Blossom Spring.
As she passed by this small villa, she involuntarily stopped.
Separated by a fence gate that seemed almost superfluous, the villa’s door was wide open, not locked. The furnishings inside were neat, orderly, and well-arranged.
Driven by curiosity, she pushed open the fence gate and walked in.
—
Most women who studied medicine had considerable courage. For an average girl, a villa appearing so unnaturally in the mountains, and with such a sense of age, would only feel eerie. Naturally, they wouldn’t dare to walk in boldly like Huo Chuxue did.
She called out softly, “Is anyone here?”
She walked slowly towards the living room, each step taken with care.
Surrounding her was utter silence. No one answered.
The objects placed in the living room looked very new, yet each item showed its age, all in styles from over a decade ago.
“Is anyone home?”
She left the living room, planning to take a look in the courtyard.
The back door wasn’t locked either, just slightly ajar, leaving a narrow crack. Countless shades of green flashed past in the backyard.
She raised her hand and gave it a gentle push, and the door opened.
The small courtyard was as weathered as the villa itself, overgrown with all sorts of wildflowers and weeds. A desolate place, mottled and variegated.
What Huo Chuxue noticed first was a large loquat tree in the center of the courtyard. Its trunk was thick and sturdy, about as thick as her thigh. Its branches and leaves were lush, with bright yellow fruits hidden behind the emerald green leaves, appearing and disappearing.
Due to the climate around Cenling, loquats here ripened earlier than elsewhere. It was only March, and the loquats were already edible.
Under the tree, a man was actually sitting.
He was a very young man, she estimated in his early thirties. He was lounging lazily on a rattan chair, his head tilted to one side, sleeping soundly.
Beside the rattan chair was a stone table. On the table, clear tea was brewing, the water boiling with a gurgling sound as bubbles rose.
She took a deep breath, and the fragrance of tea filled her entire being.
Premium Suming tea, a famous tea from the Cenling area. She could identify it just by the scent.
He wore a white round-neck sweater and black cotton trousers. A blanket was in his arms, but it had slipped down, only covering his legs.
He held a book against his chest. It was a slim, perfect-bound volume with a blue hardcover. Several large, scrawled white characters on the cover caught her eye—
“The Sound of Wind and Rain”
It was actually her mother’s book!
Huo Chuxue’s mother, Xie Mingrou, was a famous domestic romance novelist who had written countless soul-stirring love stories and was a foundational figure in the country’s romance fiction. The Sound of Wind and Rain was her breakout work from ten years ago. Upon publication, it was avidly sought after by countless readers. This novel was deeply loved, having been reprinted three times in the decade since.
The copy in the man’s arms was the earliest edition.
Though tempered by time, the book looked very new. Apart from the pages being slightly yellowed, there was no broken binding, loose glue, missing chapters, or pages—not a single flaw. It was clear the owner cherished it greatly.
The man was sleeping deeply. The light of the setting sun filtered through the gaps in the loquat leaves, dappling his fair face with shifting, flickering light.
A breeze blew past, causing the loquat tree to constantly rustle, the sound lingering in her ears like someone humming softly.
The wind lifted the man’s fine, scattered hair. His forehead was broad, with a few faint crow’s feet visible at the corners of his eyes.
For a moment, Huo Chuxue was spellbound. Suddenly, she very clearly realized this was a man with a story.
She turned and switched off the small stove brewing the tea.
If this pot of tea kept brewing like that, it would be ruined!
Perhaps her movements weren’t light enough and woke the man.
When she looked back at him, his eyes were open, looking towards her. It seemed he had truly been asleep; his eyes were hazy and slightly narrowed, his gaze empty and unfocused.
Their eyes met. The man was clearly surprised by Huo Chuxue, this uninvited guest.
“You are?” he spoke, his voice muddled and slightly hoarse.
The girl stood gracefully before him, her figure slender and elegant. The hem of her long coat was lifted by the wind, revealing a flash of the gray-blue shirt underneath. He Qingshi only caught a glimpse of a blue shadow.
Her gaze fell on the book in his arms. She smiled lightly, a light shining in the corners of her eyes. “You like “The Sound of Wind and Rain”?”
She really couldn’t imagine that a man who appeared so refined and noble before her would enjoy reading her mother’s third-rate romance novel published ten years ago.
He lowered his eyes to look at the book, his expression gentle, and explained softly to her, “My wife liked this book. I use it to pass the time when I’m idle.”
Huo Chuxue: “…”
“Where is your wife?” She looked around the small courtyard. The courtyard was so desolate, it really didn’t look like it had a mistress.
He looked into her eyes and answered slowly, “She passed away.”
Huo Chuxue: “…”
The man’s expression was very calm when he said this, without a trace of sadness or grief. Not even a hint of regret or melancholy could be heard in his tone.
Clearly, he had long since accepted his wife’s passing. But for some reason, Huo Chuxue faintly sensed that the man’s inner state was far less calm than the composure he displayed on the surface.
She always felt that the true, deep-seated peace and acceptance forged over a long period of time wasn’t what the man exhibited at this moment.
A man who, after his wife’s death, could still hold a book she liked in life to pass the time—she didn’t need to ask to know their relationship must have been very good.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly, her face showing apology.
She hadn’t meant to touch a sore spot, but she had indeed brought up something she shouldn’t have.
“It’s alright.” The man lowered his head slightly, picked up the book from his lap, carefully closed it with a gentle motion, and placed it on a corner of the stone table.
Then he lifted the blanket and stood up from the rattan chair.
They were close. Once he stood, Huo Chuxue felt a shadow fall over her. He was tall, estimated to be over 185 cm.
“Miss, are you visiting Cenling as a tourist?” His attitude wasn’t exactly warm. He sat on a stone stool, his tone light and mild. “If you don’t mind, you can sit and have a cup of tea.”
She did as he said and sat opposite him. She placed her hands properly on her thighs, fiddling with her fingers a couple of times. “I came to Cenling as a tourist. Unfortunately, the mountain is big, and I got lost going around in circles. I passed by your house, saw the door was open, and thought I’d find someone to give me directions.”
“Cenling is big. But as for winding up at my house, miss, you’re the first.”
Huo Chuxue: “…”
The man’s tone was bland, its deeper meaning unclear. But Huo Chuxue felt there was more to his words.
This brief contact gave her a shallow, initial understanding of the man before her. He appeared gentle and scholarly on the surface, but there was a certain aloofness in his bones—a dignified reserve particular to literati. He probably worked in a field related to literature.
Having been a doctor for so many years, Huo Chuxue had met all sorts of people. Her ability to read and discern people wasn’t exactly masterful, but she had some skill.
He poured Huo Chuxue a cup of hot tea. The light fragrance of the tea mingled with the gentle early spring breeze, tangling with one’s breath.
“Miss, please have some tea.”
She reached out and took it. “Thank you.”
“I was asleep earlier. The tea is over-brewed. Please make do, miss.”
“Premium Suming tea only needs seven-tenths of the heat.”
Suming tea was a famous tea from the Cenling area, especially precious due to its scarcity. The Cenling area had abundant rainfall and a suitable climate, particularly good for tea growth. There were many local tea varieties, among which Suming tea was the most valuable.
“Miss, you understand tea?” He slightly raised his eyes. His dark pupils focused on her, incredibly deep, his face showing a hint of surprise.
She took a small sip of the tea from her cup. Her lips were stained with a circle of moisture, glistening slightly. “My mother enjoys the tea ceremony. She’s always tinkering with these things in her daily life. I’ve picked up a bit by osmosis.”
“Your mother must be a wise and elegant lady.” His expression remained calm and peaceful. Having not smiled for a long time, he said slowly, “My wife was also very fond of tea art when she was alive. She often brewed tea for me in this courtyard. After she passed away, I started doing it myself. Unfortunately, my comprehension isn’t enough. The tea I brew always lacks a certain flavor.”
The man’s expression was very tender when mentioning his wife. A glow appeared at the corners of his eyes and brows, his spirit bright. This made Huo Chuxue even more curious about this woman who had long since departed.
To be deeply loved by such a man, she must have been a rare and remarkable woman.
However, they were ultimately just passersby who had met by chance. She had already disturbed him by coming uninvited. Naturally, she couldn’t probe too much into the host’s privacy. The Huo family had good upbringing. Huo Chuxue had been taught by her parents since childhood to be cautious with words and actions. She knew very well what should and shouldn’t be asked.
“Sir, you probably just miss the taste from before. Sometimes, a person’s taste buds are even more nostalgic than the person themselves.”
“Miss, you see things quite clearly.” The man looked around and murmured softly, “Nostalgic people are nostalgic all the time.”
After finishing one cup of tea, the man appropriately refilled it for her, polite and considerate.
Huo Chuxue glanced at the gradually sinking sun and knew it was time for her to leave. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to move. She liked listening to this man talk.
“Miss, may I ask your surname?” He seemed to only now remember to ask her name.
“My surname is Huo. Huo Chuxue.”