Strange Tales

Chapter 7

Tigo silently raised his strong arm, blocking me and Icefin's path. His fierce features revealed a sense of formidable threat.

His vigilance and composure were palpable. He stepped forward with the most concise and powerful movement, accompanied by a short, low growl. It was as if an unseen hand had instantly lifted the dense and heavy branches of the hydrangea, causing the figure beneath the tree to let out a low scream and frantically cover their eyes.

Just then, as if a river had been blocked by mountains and flowed backward, the strong wind blowing towards the hydrangeas suddenly changed direction and rushed towards us without warning. Broken leaves and fallen petals, carried by the strong wind, lashed against Icefin and me, and this time we had to scramble to shield ourselves. What was even more infuriating was Tigo's mocking laugh: "You got in so easily? I thought you were some kind of expert!"

Just as I was about to retort, Icefin's surprised voice came: "It's you?"

Beneath the still swaying hydrangeas, a face as pale as the hydrangeas themselves, etched with panic, stood… Wakazama! He seemed to have been there for quite some time, his expression as if he were facing an uninvited guest who had suddenly barged into his home. Matsukaze stood beside him, his right hand, which he hadn't yet lowered, indicating that he was the one who had just stopped Daigo's reckless actions.

"So you really are here! How did you get in?" Daigo arrogantly crossed his arms and said to Wakazama and Matsukaze without any politeness.

Ruozao was slightly startled, and his already somewhat nervous expression became even more wary. At that moment, I saw that beneath his scalp, still stained with fragments of hydrangea, his eyes, which held a hint of loneliness, still bore traces of tears, and his thin, single eyelids were tinged with a faint blush.

How strange... I secretly glanced at Wakazama, then at Matsukaze beside him. Could it be that they had a fight?

"You idiot, why aren't you answering my question?!" Daigo asked Wakazamo again, his attitude completely unlike that of someone older than himself. Wakazamo looked up in surprise, glanced at him quickly, and then lowered her eyes again: "I don't know."

Matsukaze patted Wakamo's shoulder to comfort him while winking at Daigo, signaling him to stop talking. Daigo, however, remained unmoved: "You want to cry secretly in this deserted place, don't you? What are you crying about?"

A flash of gloomy anger crossed Wakazamo's eyes, but he quickly hid it by lowering his head. His timid attitude looked quite pathetic. I couldn't stand Daigo's clueless attitude any longer: "That's Wakazamo and Matsukaze's own business!"

"Firewing!" Icefin suddenly shouted to stop me, but it was too late. An uncontrollable rage suddenly erupted from Ruozao's eyes. He stared at me fiercely, even his delicate face contorted: "What do you know about me and him?" Ignoring Songfeng's attempts to stop him, Ruozao completely lost his usual quiet and almost silent demeanor. He approached me step by step: "This is how you people are. Ruozao and Songfeng, do our names have to be linked together? It's so annoying! I've had enough!"

Faced with such baseless accusations, I was completely at a loss for words. Even the usually composed Icefin was stunned by this sudden outburst of rage. Wakazama, however, let her emotions run wild: "I've been compared to others since I was little, but how many of those who compare me to Matsukaze truly understand us? Have they ever seen the brocade we weave? What about the saying that a legitimate son should always be more talented than an adopted son? Do they know how much I've suffered because of such irresponsible words? I've tried my best not to fall behind Matsukaze, but… the truth is—I simply don't have Matsukaze's talent… Even with formal education, even if I studied a thousand times harder than him, I will never be as good as Matsukaze!"

Was my word really worth making Wakazamo so angry? And even if he was furious, saying such things in front of Matsukaze was just too outrageous. I glanced at Icefin, who was looking at me with the same puzzled expression. Matsukaze lowered his head, a helpless and sorrowful smile on his face.

"Songfeng knew that too, so he never considered me a rival! Whether it was weaving brocade or anything else, he was always so nonchalant, even giving up the chance to take the university entrance exam. His attitude was as if to say that no matter how hard I tried, it was useless… Songfeng simply looked down on me!" Ruozao waved her hand forcefully, and a hydrangea lying obliquely in front of her suffered an undeserved fate. An uneasy wind blew through the courtyard, the hydrangea's branches and leaves rustling, whispering reproachfully.

However, Daigo added fuel to the fire with her sarcastic remarks: "How ugly! Getting angry at a woman, no wonder Matsukaze looks down on you!"

Is that so? But I clearly saw the way Matsukaze, who's always by Wakazama's side, looked at him; it was definitely not...

It was a look of disdain!

In an instant, an uncontrollable smile swept across Ruozao's entire expression. With his change, the hydrangeas throughout the courtyard swayed, stirring up eerie gusts of wind. The gentle white mist gradually turned dark and murky…

“What’s the use of looking down on me! He’s dead! Matsukaze is dead!” Wakazama raised her trembling right hand to comb her hair, but the movement turned into a nervous tug, and the flower petals mixed in with her hair tragically shattered. “His time has stopped! No matter how talented a man is, it’s meaningless to a dead man!”

Icefin glanced at Matsukaze standing beside her, seemingly understanding something, and calmly said, "Wakazama, could it be that you... killed Matsukaze!"

"I..." A bewildered expression showed that Wakazao hadn't fully grasped Icefin's train of thought, but this expression was quickly replaced by a morbid smile. A sudden gust of wind swept through the courtyard, the hydrangeas screaming helplessly and painfully. The courtyard seemed to echo Wakazao's emotions, constantly shifting its appearance. "Yes... I killed Matsukaze. From the day I realized I could never beat him, I've killed him countless times in my heart!" As if losing all support, Wakazao buried his face in his hands, collapsing weakly against a clump of hydrangeas. How much of his near-collapse was hatred? What I saw was more of self-reproach for his inability to forgive his murderous intent!

Matsukaze slowly, slowly walked to Wakazama's side, raised his hand and gently stroked Wakazama's hair. Perhaps since childhood, he had always used that clumsy gesture to comfort his sensitive friend. But the look in his eyes as he glared at us was so sharp, as if we were his real enemies, rather than Wakazama who was constantly killing herself in her fantasies.

Although I had learned my lesson once, I still couldn't control my tendency to talk too much: "You didn't kill Matsukaze, Wakazama! Matsukaze is still alive! No one dies because of someone else's thoughts!"

Wakazama suddenly looked up, staring at me in disbelief: "What did you say? Matsukaze... he's not dead?"

"You...you shouldn't look at me like that! I didn't lie to you!" I felt a chill run down my spine from his gaze, and I pointed at Songfeng in a panic, "He's right next to you!"

Wakazama quickly stood up, frantically and confusedly searching his surroundings. His gaze swept aimlessly over the spot where Matsukaze stood, without lingering. I began to realize something was wrong—indeed, Wakazama hadn't responded to Matsukaze's comforting or attempts to stop him since earlier. I thought he was just being stubborn, or perhaps deliberately ignoring Matsukaze's presence. Could it be that—he really couldn't see Matsukaze?! But it wasn't just Icefin and me; Daigo clearly saw them too, otherwise he wouldn't have said, "You really are here!" when they first met!

"You two can't even tell the difference?!" Daigo looked at our expressions, her tone almost mocking. "Only living souls and the dead can enter this imaginary courtyard!"

Living souls and dead spirits... Indeed, Daigo appeared under the wisteria trellis without warning, and there was no sign of him getting wet. Could it be that he failed to stop me and Icefin from entering the courtyard not because of his status as a monk, but because he was actually a spirit in front of us!

"I don't understand how you were able to enter this courtyard directly. Those who come here in physical form should be prey for evil spirits—like this Wakazama." Because of our slow reaction, Daigo sighed, rubbing the back of his shaved, bluish-gray head. Grasping the ominous meaning in his words, I looked up in bewilderment—"I saw you clinging to Wakazama on the tour bus. So you really did intend to take him away!" Daigo slowly approached Matsukaze, gently raising his right hand. "In the waterside pavilion, I pretended to sleep, trying several times to enter this courtyard in my living form, but I never succeeded. Luckily, that brother and sister accidentally helped me! Now, I'll send you where you belong!"

Matsukaze smiled nonchalantly, seemingly not taking Daigo's fierce aura seriously at all. He didn't even glance at the other person, as if in his world there was only Wakamo, who couldn't see him.

"Where is Matsukaze!" After searching in vain, Wakasa suddenly grabbed Daigo's wrist as he reached for Matsukaze. "Are you talking to Matsukaze? What, a sudden heart attack and death? Impossible! If that were true, I would be so happy! But why would that guy die without telling me? He must have been hiding to play a trick on me! Make him come see me!"

So Matsukaze really is dead. A sudden heart attack was the cause of his death! I looked at Icefin, whose eyelids were lowered. There was no surprise on his face. It seemed that he, like Daigo, had already confirmed the fact that Matsukaze was dead!

"You idiot!" Daigo shook off the cumbersome Wakazama. "Why are you seeing him! Matsukaze is here to kill you!"

Wakazama, however, choked back tears as she resolutely denied Daigo's words: "Why would Matsukaze want my life? It's completely unnecessary! He's already taken everything from me! Do you know what my father said before his spirit tablet? He said Matsukaze was the best successor to Kagawa Nishiki! Do you know what my favorite girl said to me? She said Matsukaze was the one she truly loved! Why would Matsukaze want my life... Now he's escaped so cunningly... He even took my hatred with him..."

A gust of wind shook the hydrangea petals, like tears… Was the pine breeze merely here to claim lives? Things were definitely not as simple as Daigo understood… I watched as Daigo raised her hands once more, and suddenly I could no longer control my inner impulse: “Stop!”

Daigo's actions truly stopped, not because of my shouts, but because Icefin had blocked his way from Matsukaze. Daigo angrily cursed Icefin for getting in the way, but Icefin's tone was even more ferocious: "You bald idiot, you only know how to look, not how to think! What makes you say that Matsukaze built this imaginary garden? Where's the evidence?"

Daigo, whose strength bordered on tyranny, was momentarily speechless, but Icefin gave him no chance to organize his thoughts: "From the beginning, you've been convinced that Matsukaze is an evil spirit. Has he refuted it? Has he explained it? The reason he hasn't spoken is that he simply doesn't have the strength to make a sound anymore, let alone create any imaginary garden—Matsukaze only has the ability to maintain his physical form now!"

Indeed, we didn't hear Matsukaze say a word from the beginning, but Daigo wasn't so easily convinced. He finally shouted back defiantly, "Then why doesn't he go to heaven and keep bothering Wakazama?"

A transparent sadness surfaced in Icefin's eyes as it gazed at Matsukaze and Wakazama: "That's because he can't go back. It's not just the undead that haunt humans; human obsessions can also entangle innocent undead!"

I turned my gaze, puzzled, to the two people separated by the divide between life and death. Wakazama was still searching, lost in thought, while Matsukaze looked at his friend from another world with pity. Was the bond between them merely resentment? Was Matsukaze truly only bound by his obsession, forced to remain?

Daigo couldn't believe Icefin's explanation for a moment, but his constant shaking of his head revealed his wavering.

“Only someone with a strong inner conviction can create an imaginary garden—the atmosphere of this garden changes with Wakazama’s emotions, because the creator of this garden is Wakazama himself!” Icefin silently approached Wakazama step by step. Matsukaze subconsciously stepped between the two, forgetting that doing so was meaningless for someone without a physical body. The sorrow in Icefin’s eyes deepened. “Why do you still protect him? Don’t you know how he sees you? In fact, human selfishness and jealousy are more terrifying than the resentment of the undead!” Matsukaze smiled casually, gently but firmly, showing no intention of stepping aside.

The gentle, silent breeze of the pine trees, the ruthlessness in Ruozao's words—these are indeed undeniable facts. But there must be something else, something obscured by the dust of language. Human beings' true feelings cannot be conveyed through language alone!

“I don’t understand…” Wakazamo’s words choked in his throat, his voice thin and neurotic. He shook his head blankly. “I don’t understand what you’re saying. I want to see Matsukaze… I just want to see Matsukaze…”

“What’s the point of seeing him?” Icefin sneered cruelly. “To flaunt the fact that you’re still alive? That’s the only thing you can do to beat him! The hydrangea is the truest reflection of the person who created this imaginary garden—the hydrangea says: You’re a heartless person!”

Yes, Wakazama is just a cold-hearted person. So selfish, so narrow-minded, only considering her own feelings, never seeing everything Matsukaze did for her! Yet this cold-hearted person couldn't believe that Matsukaze was dead, to the point that she was so confused, deeply immersed in this imaginary garden filled with hydrangeas…

Dewdrops, appearing out of nowhere, fell like teardrops from the branches and leaves of the hydrangea. At this moment, a self-deprecating smugness covered Ruozao's face: "As expected... ruthlessness is my... only strength!"

"No!" I suddenly shouted, "What do you mean hydrangeas are cruel? Flower language is just something others have assigned! Shouldn't we rely on our own feelings to know what they mean? This courtyard... clearly doesn't feel cruel at all!"

Because of our similar ages, comparisons are inevitable. No matter how hard I try, I can't surpass that person. These struggles and despair are suffocating. But compared to these tragic experiences, what's more important is being able to walk side by side with that person on the same path, regardless of hardships and obstacles! Unable to accurately convey my inner thoughts, I grabbed the hem of the human entangled in love and hate with the dead, shaking my head helplessly: "Only painful memories? When you were with Matsukaze... wasn't there even a moment of happiness?"

"Happy...memories..." Wakazama looked at me blankly. The pine breeze slowly drifted closer to him, gently touching once more the hair of his friend separated from him by death. This was perhaps the only action he could take, knowing that this touch could never be felt... His lips moved, repeating the same sentence over and over. Just as Wakazama was trying desperately to find his figure, he was also making a futile effort, trying to send these unheard words into Wakazama's ears.

This must have been the last and most persistent thought left by the spirit in this world. Because of its effort to make a sound, the spirit of Songfeng became as transparent as a reflection in water. In an instant, the courtyard swayed as if submerged in water. Children's laughter abruptly entered our ears, as if another dimension had intersected with our world through some small mistake in creation. Two children, holding bouquets of hydrangeas that almost covered their bodies, were carefully arranging them into patterns under a cluster of flowering trees dampened by the evening mist. Hydrangea hydrangeas, Enoki hydrangeas, Ezo hydrangeas… flowers of various shapes and colors intertwined, decorating the empty space beside the dark blue stepping stones into a naive yet vibrant blue-purple brocade with their small hands.

In just a fleeting moment, we could clearly see the faces of the two children—those slightly lonely single eyelids and carefree, nonchalant smiles, perfectly preserved on the faces of two people from different worlds after all these years—it was Wakazama and Matsukaze. Years ago, as children, they had played happily in this imaginary garden. This imaginary hydrangea carpet, perhaps, was the first and last Kagawa brocade they had woven together…

At that moment, I realized something I'd never before understood—Daigo, Hyoshin, and I—we each only saw a corner of Wakazama and Matsukaze's hearts from our own perspectives. This wasn't a garden of resentment Wakazama created to haunt Matsukaze, but a garden of dreams they created together! This forgotten garden held their most precious memories, so even more than a decade later, when their hearts had diverged, they unconsciously returned to that empty garden that belonged only to them…

The evening mist rose again, obscuring the small figure; only the clear sound of laughter still echoed in the empty courtyard, as if emphasizing the mark of its existence...

Was this everything Matsukaze wanted Wakazama to see? Was this everything he wanted to convey with his last remaining strength? But it was too late. Wakazama couldn't see it, and even if he had, it wouldn't have mattered... Daigo and Hyoshin silently watched Matsukaze disappear, their expressions filled with a profound sense of powerlessness—even with ears and eyes that could communicate with the other world, they were powerless to connect hearts that could not communicate...

"Let's...go to Momohazu together..." Suddenly, Wakazamo murmured softly to himself. At that moment, as if a seal had been broken, tears fell without warning from his thin eyelids. He stared into the void ahead, repeating the same sentence over and over as if chanting a spell. The movement and frequency of his lips gradually overlapped with Matsukaze's. So, these were the words Matsukaze wanted to say to Wakazamo. People from two different worlds, speaking the same words in voices that the other could not hear—"Let's...go to Momohazu together..."

Return to Momohazu, return to that garden that is nowhere else in this world, return to that time and space that can never be relived...

In the courtyard, where light and shadow swayed, everyone's gaze was fixed on Wakazamo, as if trying to trace back the irreversible passage of time. He curled up, clenching his fists tightly, repeatedly reciting the promise that could never be fulfilled. The pine breeze, now as transparent as a thin shadow under the moonlight, silently approached Wakazamo, gazing gently yet stubbornly at his friend who was about to part forever. At this moment, as if responding to some divine call, Wakazamo slowly raised his head, but his gaze pierced through the pine breeze before him, falling towards the distant horizon…

Humans and the dead stared at each other meaninglessly. Finally, a smile spread across Matsukaze's lips as he touched Wakazama's delicate hair once more. In their childhood, they had confirmed each other's existence countless times in this way. Then, he withdrew his fingers, decisively passing through his friend's body. As if something within his soul froze and shattered with Matsukaze's departure, pouring out with his tears, Wakazama's empty eyes widened in that instant. But he couldn't see behind him, a bubble of the otherworld silently fading away, disappearing…

The spring rain poured down again without warning, like an unstoppable weeping, and the hydrangea courtyard melted into the misty rain...

"I'm going back to my own body too." Daigo stood with his back to us, looking relaxed and triumphant, but his voice was a little hoarse. "I finally understand why you two were able to enter this imaginary garden. It's because you share the same feelings as Wakazama and the others..."

“We…and Wakazama Matsukaze…” Icefin and I looked at Daigo’s back with confusion.

"Hydrangeas, Firewing, the hydrangeas you made..." Daigo carefully chose her words, a rare occurrence for her. "The hydrangeas you made have the same scent as this courtyard. Now I know, it's a warm sadness..."

"I clearly hid the hydrangeas I made!" I looked at Icefin in surprise. "Because I thought they looked really nice... I added them to the offerings!" Icefin stammered, then suddenly turned and shouted at Daigo, "You're really nosy!"

Daigo seemed slightly taken aback, then burst into laughter: "I'm not a monk! I just grew up in a temple!" With a clear laugh, Daigo finally turned to look at us, and his figure slowly disappeared into the spring rain. "Hydrangeas and sunflowers, if you can think of it that way, it should be alright, right..."

The soft, continuous sound of rain pattering on the lush foliage filled my ears once more. I looked up and around, and a patchwork of pale purple and ivory green came into view, stretching all the way to the pale blue pond dotted with deep purple irises—we hadn't left that little flower trellis after all; the only difference was that Ruozao was now beside us. Ruozao, who had somehow gotten up, stroked her disheveled hair in confusion: "I...I fell asleep in the waterside pavilion, how did I end up here..."

Despite the sporadic spring rain, the creatures from the other world slowly returned to the courtyard, gathering around us affectionately. I watched as the varying numbers of spirits' eyes shimmered with pity. They reached out their slender claws to stroke Ruozao's face. Were they... comforting her? Had they sensed the unnatural sadness that had been taken away from Ruozao's heart by the gentle being from the other world...?

The hydrangea courtyard, and everything that had just happened—the pine breeze had probably already carried them away from Wakazao's memory. Always choosing such an unwise path, this talented old friend had always been like this in this respect, clumsy yet gentle. Icefin gazed intently into Wakazao's eyes, still stained with tears: "Just now, you must have had a sweet dream..."

A sad expression flashed across Ruozao's eyes, but it quickly turned into a gentle smile, and he gently shook his head.

At this moment, the familiar sound of the pipa rang out once more. Humans from this world and spirits from the other world all turned their heads toward the waterside pavilion. The inn's courtyard, full of early summer charm, was enveloped in the ethereal music and the moist fragrance of flowers, as distant as the sorrow of parting...

It's the same song, but it's Daigo's deep, resonant voice again—"Sending off the spring that can't be held back, grieving for you whom I can never see again..."

Whispering Panels

My family has lived in our ancestral home in the old town of Kagawa for generations. This house, which includes a main hall and study, three courtyards with three rooms and two side rooms, and a rear flower hall and warm pavilion, houses seven people in total: my family, my uncle's family, and my grandmother. It's quite spacious, but strange things often happen, such as items suddenly disappearing or strange guests visiting. Apart from my cousin, whose nickname is "Icefin," and me, it seems that no one else in the family notices these things. So Icefin and I were initially surprised, but gradually we got used to it.

I often heard whispers coming from the other side of the wooden wall, especially late at night when I was lying on my bed against the wall—it sounded like someone was arguing, first arguing, then cursing, and finally throwing a tantrum and crying. My cousin, who lived in the next room and was a month younger than me, was also bothered by it. When the noise made it impossible for him to sleep, he would grab books, pillows, or other things and throw them hard at the wall, which would immediately quiet down my side as well.

These whispers would escalate into endless arguments at the end of the year. When my grandfather, known as an "eccentric," was alive, things were alright. He would always act as a peacemaker, inviting the quarreling parties to his study to mediate. Sometimes, Bingqi and I would hide under the carved window of the study to eavesdrop. The two families would argue noisily, saying that one family had taken advantage of the other, or that the other had taken more than their share. My grandfather would always comfort us, saying, "We all live so close by, don't hurt our harmony!" My mother or aunt would often come and drag us back, scolding us for disturbing my grandfather's peace and quiet. They didn't believe us at all when we said that my grandfather was receiving guests—because the shadow cast on the intricately patterned long window by the dim light was clearly only my grandfather's.

When I was four years old, my grandfather passed away in the spring. After all the various chores were finished, the New Year was just around the corner. Although he was gone, the New Year still had to be celebrated according to the usual customs. For example, when it came to buying New Year's goods and pastries, although there were large pastry shops like Qilin Pavilion in the city, our family still preferred to walk a little further to Ruichanju near Qianqiao to order pastries. The owner of Ruichanju was an old friend of my grandfather's, and he was particularly honest in his business dealings. Only his family was willing to make all sorts of complicated pastries for our family. Take a pastry called "He Bing" for example. Only two were made each year, each weighing one tael and two mace, and there could not be any difference. It was shaped like a lotus flower, with twelve petals on each flower, and each petal had to be the same size. However, this pastry, which looked delicious, was only used for offerings. It was placed in the kitchen on New Year's Eve and disappeared early on New Year's Day.

I still remember that New Year's Eve. In the afternoon, fine snowflakes like sleet were falling. My aunt, who had just returned from Ruichanju, shook off the snowflakes. Under her crimson shawl was an old food box containing pastries. The lacquer paintings of flowers and trees of the four seasons on the five-layered food box had long since faded. My aunt opened the top layer of the box, took out a small white silk paper packet, and handed it to me. Thin, refreshing oil stains seeped through the silk paper, revealing a subtle pale blue hue.

"What is it?" I looked up at my aunt.

"I don't know either!" Auntie smiled and patted my head. "It was given to you by Grandpa Ruichanju!" As she spoke, she handed another pink paper package to Bingqi: "Let's go and put the rice cakes up for worship!"

As I followed the ice fin towards the stove, I opened the paper package. "Tiger Head Cake!" I cheered. Wrapped in silk paper were two yellow cakes emitting a faint medicinal aroma. Although called "Tiger Head Cake," at first glance they looked just like the faces of chubby tiger-striped cats. This kind of cake, specially made for the Dragon Boat Festival to ward off evil spirits, was my favorite treat. As a child, I was only focused on my joy and had no idea that giving Dragon Boat Festival cakes on New Year's Eve was a rare occurrence.

"Me too!" Icefin held the paper package of rice cakes, shaking her long baby hair that reached her cheeks with dissatisfaction. According to Grandfather's rules, we had to maintain the same attire until we started school at the age of seven, wearing Tang suits that no one wore anymore, keeping baby hair that was indistinguishable between boys and girls; and not calling each other brother and sister, but only calling each other by our childhood names—"Firewing" and "Icefin".

Grandpa had his reasons for doing this, but they were things a child couldn't understand. I felt a little smug and, mimicking an adult's tone, said, "That won't do! This was given to me by Grandpa Ruichanju!"

"Even Grandpa Ruichanju favors Firewing! I'm clearly prettier and more obedient!" Icefin got angry, threw down the rice cake in her hand, and ran away. I quickly stuffed the gift into my clothes and tried to pick up the rice cake, but the pink paper package was already torn. Great! One rice cake was broken and obviously unusable. "Icefin, you big idiot!" I cursed as I took the last one to the kitchen and placed it on a lacquer tray. Luckily, one was intact; as for the broken one… I was already itching to taste it! Anyway, the rice cake would disappear by the next day, and the adults probably wouldn't know. But who knew that the light pink lotus petals were made of rice flour and fine red bean paste? Besides being sweet, it had no other flavor. This rice cake was all looks and no taste!

Perhaps it was the guilt I felt for having embezzled the offered cakes, but I decided to share a piece of tiger-head cake to win back Icefin's friendship. As I walked through the dark veranda to the front yard, I saw a not-so-tall figure slowly approaching through the snow-covered courtyard.

I stopped and observed this unexpected visitor from a distance. Logically, it should be getting dark soon, and everyone should be preparing their New Year's Eve dinner and staying up late to welcome the new year. This person, disregarding the weather, had come to someone else's house; even if it was a New Year's greeting, it was a bit early. He stood on the eaves, not saying a word, just looking at me, constantly rubbing his hands together. I couldn't tell if he was cold or if something was troubling him.

"Who is it!" I immediately regretted it as soon as I opened my mouth. My grandfather had repeatedly told me and Icefin not to talk to strangers first—if we ignored them, they wouldn't come over on their own.

"Great! I was just worried about not being able to find anyone!" He immediately walked towards me. In the dim light, I could see he was quite young, wearing a light gray-brown fur coat, with a kind face and a pair of bright, narrow eyes. "And this is..."

"Firewing!" I answered loudly. My grandfather had also told us that if we were bothered by these strange strangers, we should shout out our childhood nickname. Strangers would usually leave on their own upon hearing that name.

"It's the big one! What great luck! We were just looking for you!" The stranger with narrow eyes rubbed his hands together excitedly. "Look, this happened right after Mr. Neyan passed away. We were in a hurry and had nowhere to turn for justice! Now, Firewing, you should take care of this!"

I lowered my guard against the stranger with the narrow eyes. Not only had he entered my house, but he also seemed quite familiar with my situation; he probably wasn't a bad person. However, I didn't understand then that not everyone addressed my grandfather as "Mr. Na Yan." I asked the man, "Who are you, and what do you want?"

"I'm Xiao Ba from Zi'er's family, and it's about the Bai family and my family!" Seeing that I still looked confused, Xiao Ba from Zi'er's family scratched the back of his head. "Right, every year Mr. Neyan is in his study allocating the next year's share for our two families!"

"Oh!" I exclaimed, suddenly realizing, "You two are the neighbors who argue every day, keeping everyone awake!"

“Yes, yes!” Xiao Ba nodded vigorously. “Let’s go, Huo Yi. You know my mom’s temper!” He grabbed my hand and walked straight into the room.

"Where are you going!" I panicked, trying to break free from his grasp. "There's a wall there!"

"Who said that!" Xiao Ba smiled and turned to look at me. "Isn't this clearly a door? Just go out the door and you're there!"

Indeed, it was a door... Where did such a large door come from in the side room? Confused, I somehow passed through this heavy door with peeling black paint and exposed wood grain.

What a huge yard! How come I didn't know I had such a spacious neighbor? But the owner of this house is so lazy! Such a nice yard, and they don't even bother to tidy it up. The sprouting reeds are completely covering the white stepping stones.

I hopped along on the stepping stones, which were too far apart for a five-year-old, looking around: the silvergrass, as if soaked in the damp sunlight, displayed the greenness of midsummer, casually covering the ground, making the whole courtyard desolate but not decadent.

In the very center of the garden stood an octagonal tea pavilion, which looked quite old, probably due to neglect. Wild grass grew rampant in the gaps between the blue tiles, interspersed with sprigs of pine trees blooming with tiny white flowers. Xiao Ba led me to the tea pavilion and exclaimed, "We're here!"