Chickens and dogs fly in chaos and rebirth

Chapter 109

I always felt they were still children, forgetting that I was growing up. I was already seventeen, let alone Li Changsheng. But because I watched them every day, I didn't notice the passage of time.

He said meaningfully, "You're too smart. Sometimes you need to humble yourself a little. Humility when looking at life and others."

Not everyone is as mature beyond their years as you are, nor is everyone like you—still having the same thoughts as you after all these years.

Shanglin hit a nerve, and Shanglin, enraged, retorted, "What do you know? You—"

He slowly peeled the lychee without any rush, the juice dripping down his fingers. She remembered that it was also that summer when Li Changsheng ran away from his parents' home in Shantou. She was anxious for several days. When she finally saw him, before she could get angry, he took out a few lychees from his schoolbag like a treasure and eagerly presented them to her, hoping for her praise.

He's always been like this, used to a life centered around her. Habits are deeply ingrained, so who can he blame but himself?

With a sigh, I can only blame fate for its cruel twists and turns; life is unpredictable.

Once she understood, her scrutinizing gaze towards Li Changsheng changed.

I didn't realize it before, but looking at it from a different perspective, he's grown up. His words and actions are measured and impeccable. The ruthlessness he once displayed is now hidden, with only the occasional glint of light in his eyes proving that he's still that violent, homeless little boy at heart.

With an easel on his back and a hat on, even she thought he was an art student. He set up his easel and began to paint earnestly, exuding a scholarly air that drew the attention of countless girls.

Now that things have come to this, Qiu Shanglin has to admit that Li Changsheng, whom she has raised for many years, is now an adult.

Yin Yeyao's suitors

The air is fresh after the rain. Barefoot, I wander through the alleyways with their white walls and black tiles. The cobblestone paths rise and fall, and the cool touch travels from the soles of my feet to the tip of my heart. It's all filled with the gentle, melodious atmosphere of Suzhou.

The ancient land of Wuzhong, with its thousand-year-old charm, has transformed into the delicate and ordinary details of daily life over time. Winding, secluded alleys, small wonton vendors on street corners, stalls at Xuanmiao Temple, teahouses and storytelling venues in water towns, the melodious Suzhou Pingtan (storytelling and ballad singing), the riverbanks of Shantang River, and the soft, enigmatic sounds of the Wu region that, though incomprehensible, are pleasing to the ear…

She considered herself an ordinary person, so when she arrived in Suzhou, her first thought was not of the world-renowned gardens, nor of the "warm breeze entering the forest, plum blossoms blooming in the dark tomb, winding to the Fragrant Snow Sea, red petals and green calyxes intermingling in countless layers. People from the prefecture floated on boats by the Tiger Mountain Bridge, wrapped in blankets, day and night." The Fragrant Snow Sea, famous for its plum blossoms, was the most attractive aspect of Suzhou.

In the novel "Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils", Duan Yu fell in love with the food of Suzhou after tasting it, while the two sisters, A Zhu and A Bi, only prepared a few snacks.

Shanglin dislikes Duan Yu, who is indecisive yet inexplicably lucky due to the protagonist's trait, but he cannot question Duan Yu's taste. Suzhou cuisine is mainly prepared using methods such as braising, stewing, and simmering. It has a light flavor, is sweet but not greasy, and pays great attention to seasoning and color matching, putting a lot of effort into its presentation and appearance.

After having breakfast at the hotel, Shanglin and Xialin felt cheated. Xialin bluntly said that it was not as good as the Suzhou cuisine that her sister cooked according to the recipe at home. The three young people persuaded her, and the Qiu family signed up for a day tour of Suzhou and wanted to see the gardens with the tour group first. However, Shanglin wanted to go to Hanshan Temple "outside Gusu City" first, so that even if it was not midnight, he should be able to hear the bell.

So they decided to split up and have lunch separately.

Holding a latest version of the Suzhou map, and looking at the words "Tang Yin's Tomb" on the map, Xia Lin insisted on going to see and find the elegant figure of the romantic scholar from hundreds of years ago. Who knows, maybe Sister Qiu Xiang will turn around and smile at the alley entrance, and a hundred charms will be born.

Sitting in the tricycle, Shanglin stopped the driver from telling the truth, watching with amusement as the two young men enthusiastically searched the winding stone-paved path. The deserted alley, the dark water of the Shantang River, the fragrant breeze, and the young men's innocent and joyful enthusiasm were enough to make up for the regrettable fact that Tang Yin's Tomb was actually just the name of an alley.

After walking back and forth on the bluestone slabs three times, the cart owner leaned against the cart with a smile, chatting casually with Shanglin, who had passed by once but refused to look again. The person in charge didn't mind the trouble; of course, he was happy to spend time making money. Even though he felt a little guilty, seeing the young man's fresh and excited face, what more could he ask for?

On Peach Blossom Village Street, where there were no peach blossoms, the northern shoes rubbed intimately against the bluestone slabs of Suzhou three times before Shanglin, with a mischievous grin, told them the truth. Xialin let out a strange cry and pounced on them, complaining that her sister hadn't told them the truth earlier, making them search three times in vain.

Shanglin then lifted her skirt and ran wildly. She wore a long, peacock-blue ethnic dress that reached her ankles. With each step she moved with the wind, she held onto one corner of the dress as she ran, the hem fluttering in the breeze, causing the embroidered lotus branches to sway as well. This accentuated her fair, slender, and shapely legs. In the deserted alleys of Suzhou, her laughter rang out like silver bells.

The car owner then joked that the girl didn't seem like a northerner, but rather more like someone from Suzhou.

Changsheng did not refuse this somewhat abrupt praise. In the eyes of Suzhou people, praising a woman as being like a Suzhou woman is the highest form of compliment. He smiled faintly, nodded slightly, and then talked about the restaurants and eateries that Suzhou people frequent, watching the siblings playfully chatting and laughing, with a mixture of affection and pride.

He spent two yuan to strike the bell three times at Hanshan Temple, resolutely rejected Qiu Xialin's delusion of striking it three more times, patted his long hair, and said with a smile that it would be better to stay and become a monk, strike the bell every day as a monk, saving money and trouble.

Xia Lin stormed off to draw lots for fortune telling, while Shang Lin stood by listening to the fortune teller's ramblings. Chang Sheng asked her why she wasn't drawing a lot, and Shang Lin shook her head: "I don't listen to ghosts and gods."

No, it's not that we don't want to listen, it's that we're afraid to listen.

Afraid of being exposed in front of the Buddha, they simply decided not to have their fortunes told.

Emerging from Hanshan Temple, a short walk along a tree-lined path leads to a courtyard enclosed by a wooden fence, from which drift the sounds of a pipa and Suzhou storytelling. Shanglin, curious, asked the cart driver, who chuckled and replied that it was a storytelling venue specifically catering to tourists, a place the locals of Suzhou would never visit. A pot of tea was incredibly expensive, and the storytelling wasn't for those with expertise.

An elderly woman selling flowers greeted us with a smile, carrying a bamboo basket lined with a damp blue cloth. The white magnolia blossoms, with a hint of milky white, were a beautiful and refreshing sight.

The old woman couldn't speak Mandarin, but she just smiled at Qiu Shanglin, showing her the magnolia flowers in the basket, her eyes filled with expectation.

The car owner acted as a translator, and a pair of white orchids cost one yuan.

Changsheng picked out two white orchids strung together with lead wire and pinned them to Shanglin's hairline and behind her ear. Xialin clapped her hands and laughed, saying that her sister had never liked wearing flowers, saying it made her look silly, but these white orchids suited her exceptionally well.

Shanglin saw that there were also bunches of jasmine in the basket, with five or six half-open buds propped up with lead wire to form the shape of a small fan. The cart driver gestured that it could be hung on a lapel and placed by the bedside so that the fragrance would last for two or three days.

She picked out three strings of skewers and, despite their resistance, insisted on pinning one to each person's lapel.

As they were paying and leaving, the old woman called them back, smiling as she took out a string of jasmine bracelets, pulled them over, and put them on her wrist, the fragrance of the flowers rising on the breeze.

When Changsheng tried to pay again, the old woman waved her hand and walked straight to the next tourist with her basket.

The driver laughed and said that the old woman gave it to the little girl because the little girl was pretty and charming.

Xia Lin looked at herself, then at her sister, and laughed at her for indeed turning into a 'flower girl'. Shang Lin touched her hair, then her ear, and then looked down at her clothes and wrists. She felt a strong fragrance, yet it was light and fresh, blending into the charm of the Jiangnan water towns. It was as if she herself had become an ancient woman walking gracefully out of a painting.

On the way to Tiger Hill, a light drizzle began to fall, causing some of the group to feel apprehensive. The driver, however, remarked that it was perfect. Tiger Hill was ideal for a visit, both before and after the rain. He had them buy three antique-style paper umbrellas by the roadside. The umbrellas were made of oiled paper, adorned with elegant ladies, and the handles were made of curved wood, decorated with flowers and birds. Qiu Shanglin's worries turned to joy as she turned the umbrellas, laughing and chatting. Passersby occasionally glanced at her, some even wondering if a young female celebrity had arrived in Suzhou.

Because of the rain, Tiger Hill was sparsely populated, and the mountain air was fresh. We thanked the driver and, as he suggested, didn't go through the main gate but instead took a detour along a side path. We passed a bamboo grove, its leaves glistening with dew in the rain. Xia Lin, being mischievous, took out a knife to carve "I was here" into the bamboo, only to be thoroughly mocked by Qiu Shang Lin. At this time, tourism in China was still in its infancy; wherever they went, people liked to leave something behind to prove they had been there. The bamboo grove, with its thick bamboo stalks, was covered in carvings of "XXX was here," a sight both heartbreaking and laughable.

Not allowed to scribble or draw, Xia Lin pouted in dissatisfaction: "I came all this way for nothing, I have to leave something behind!"

Shanglin smiled and pointed to the ground: "There, you left footprints."

The three of them lowered their heads in unison. After the rain, the mountain path was muddy, and sure enough, there was a row of footprints of different sizes, crooked and winding. They couldn't help but burst into laughter.

In the woods, a tourist was also with his eight- or nine-year-old child, who was being mischievous and wandering around with a small knife, trying to find a bamboo stalk without any markings. Upon hearing this, the child quickly ran out and was annoyed to find that his footprints had been covered by those of others who came later.

Shanglin quickly offered a suggestion: he should choose a bamboo stalk and leave a circle of footprints around it.

In his excitement, Changsheng accidentally stepped on the name of Shanglin, leaving behind crooked, ugly, and unsightly footprints.

To the left of Lengxiang Pavilion lies Thousand-Man Stone, above which is the Third Spring. Surrounding it are hundreds of ancient plum trees, their branches twisted yet brimming with vitality. They have stood firm through eighty years of wind and rain. Shanglin points to the three characters of Lengxiang Pavilion and explains that the plum blossoms here, when in bloom, emit a subtle fragrance and cast sparse shadows, hence the name 'Lengxiang' (meaning 'cold fragrance').

A plaque to the left of the entrance to Lengxiang Pavilion reads: "A subtle fragrance wafts, perfect for enjoying tea." It was summer, and the plum trees were laden with pointed leaves, even more verdant after the rain. Shanglin stepped into the building, laughing, "The ancients said that conversation over tea is a great spoilsport, for wine is best enjoyed under the blossoms. It's a pity this teahouse doesn't sell wine; otherwise, we could buy some, sit on the ground under the plum trees, and appreciate the misty rain—that would be a delightful and elegant conversation."

The father and the little boy they had encountered in the bamboo grove were right behind them. The little boy had long been familiar with the forest floor and, regardless of age, was generally mischievous. The father, a cheerful northerner, was pleased to hear this and pulled a flat, tin wine pot from his pocket.

"Come, come, luckily I always keep some fine Shanxi Fenjiu on hand!"

Shanglin was speechless for a moment, then burst into laughter.

Lengxiang Pavilion is a typical old-style building. After decades of refinement, its interior features carved beams and painted pillars, walls adorned with calligraphy and paintings, and mahogany tables and chairs complementing the similarly colored doors, windows, and walls, creating an extremely elegant and antique atmosphere. Upstairs, there wasn't a single tea drinker; five strangers had temporarily joined together at a table by the window. Because there were no customers, even the storytelling performers had gone to avoid the hustle and bustle, leaving only a middle-aged waitress lazily wiping the mahogany tables and chairs.

All the south-facing windows upstairs were open, revealing layers of trees outside, with mist swirling around them, a verdant expanse stretching as far as the eye could see. Sitting by the window, one could feel the rain and wind, the misty mountain air, almost as if one were in a fairyland. Shanglin stared blankly out the window, his thoughts drifting, when suddenly a waiter turned on the tape recorder, the music rising and falling in his ears. At that moment, several younger waiters appeared out of nowhere and gathered around the recorder. Shanglin vaguely heard one of them say:

"Xu Lixian's Wang Kui betrayed Guiying."

They gathered around and hummed softly, "Pear blossoms fall, apricot blossoms bloom, peach blossoms wither, spring has returned..." Shanglin remembered the last line, "I do not see my beloved coming on his white horse," and was momentarily captivated.

After a while, a young girl wearing a blue floral open-front blouse and black wide-legged high trousers served Biluochun tea in a blue and white porcelain covered bowl. Shanglin nodded and smiled at her in a friendly manner, admiring her unique clothes, but was surprised to see the same envy in her eyes.

The little girl shyly retreated to her companion's side, chattering and pointing at her large skirt.

Shanglin suddenly understood and found it quite interesting.

Changsheng encouraged her: "Go and trade with them to get some clothes."

The group of girls, wanting to have some fun, encouraged Shanglin to run to the counter and whisper to them. The girls pushed and shoved one of them, then, blushing, they pushed Shanglin and the girl behind the screen.

Changsheng and the other party chatted happily. In the woods, he played a game of slapping hands with the little boy. After a while, a shy little girl emerged, head bowed. She tugged at the hem of her blue floral dress, her slender fingers carrying a cup of tea. She spoke shyly and sweetly:

"Surrounded by distant mountains and perched atop a high pavilion, I would like to offer you a cup of tea to aid your journey."

Chang Sheng was about to refuse out of habit when he suddenly realized what he was doing and chuckled softly as he leaned over his desk.

Qiu Shanglin deliberately adopted the gentle demeanor of a woman from Jiangnan, becoming even more submissive: "I am Qiu Xiang, and I have long admired the renowned Tang Jieyuan, the most romantic and talented scholar in Jiangnan. I have come here to make your acquaintance. I would like to offer you tea and compose poems in your honor."

Changsheng laughed even more heartily, ignoring the astonishment of the Shanxi man, and feigned a flirtatious demeanor:

"Oh? Miss Qiuxiang, why don't you tell me which line of my poetry you admire most?"

This did not stump her: "Although I love the real portrayal of Mr. [referring to] firewood, rice, oil, salt, soy sauce, vinegar, and tea, I love even more his carefree spirit of 'painting a landscape painting in his spare time to sell, without making money that causes harm to the world.'"

Changsheng bowed, admitting defeat: "It's over, it's over. I'm not as learned as you. Where am I supposed to find so many allusions?"

The middle-aged man from Shanxi and his son, though unable to understand the language, were still thoroughly enjoying the performance. Unfamiliar place, strangers. The beauty of travel lies in abandoning one's familiar environment, relaxing, and unleashing one's true nature. Even one can't control just how crazy they might become.

She didn't want to take off her Jiangnan-style outfit, and the other girl was happy to wear her floor-length dress and enjoy her companion's envy.

We sat down and savored the Biluochun tea for a while. The Shanxi man was straightforward and didn't lie; he downed it in one gulp, smacked his lips, and complained slightly, "It's a bit bland, tasteless."

Shang Lin was taken aback, and as expected, he received a disdainful look from the middle-aged woman.

I couldn't help but chuckle. The tea soup of Biluochun is delicate, smooth, and mellow, much like a woman from Jiangnan. No wonder people who are used to drinking northern flower teas find it hard to get used to.

He beckoned and quietly asked the little girl for a few small wine cups. The little girl frowned, looking troubled: "We don't allow outside tea or snacks here..."

Shang Lin smiled slyly and glanced at the middle-aged woman: "We don't bring any tea. Besides, you asked us not to bring tea, but you didn't say we couldn't bring any alcohol."