The boy uncorked the bottle, and the cool, sweet scent of mint wafted out.
Inside the jar were dark red plums, which looked extremely tempting.
“It’s bayberry.” Ah Heng raised her eyebrows.
"It's made with mint leaves. Have your brother eat a few, that'll be enough." The old man, speaking in a thick, rustic accent, took a deep drag on his pipe, the smoke flickering faintly in the flames.
Yan Xi silently chewed a few. At first, she found the taste extremely strange—spicy and astringent, with no sweetness whatsoever. But after eating a few, she felt that although the flavor on her tongue wasn't very delicate, it had a unique taste. And the discomfort in her stomach gradually subsided.
Ah Heng smiled faintly, picked up a piece of fish, removed the bones, and put it into Yan hope's bowl.
Northerners are generally not used to eating fish, nor do they know much about it.
Yan hope had always enjoyed the treatment of an emperor at home. Lieutenant Li made him very comfortable and never had to worry about his meals. Now, when Aheng picked up a fish for him and carefully removed the bones, Yan Xi ate it out of habit, without realizing the impropriety of it.
Ah Heng didn't think too much about it; she just did what she wanted to do, without being aware of the doting and intimate implications behind her actions.
However, when both of them treated it as a trivial matter, it really wasn't a big deal. After finishing their meal, they wiped their mouths and went about their business: you be your Yan Xi, and I'll be my Wen Heng. The bridge is the bridge, and the road is the road.
The small black fish was stewed with lake water and red peppers by the old man. It was absolutely natural, with a fresh, fragrant, tender and smooth taste. Yan hope ate to her heart's content, and the gloom in her eyes gradually disappeared. She sweated from the spiciness, and her cold seemed to have subsided considerably.
As night deepened, the moonlight reflected on the lake, shimmering and rippling like silver.
The old fisherman helped the two make their bed, and Yan Xi and Aheng sat at the bow of the boat, gazing at the mountains and rivers somewhat unconsciously.
Winter in the South doesn't have the chill of the North; it only brings a faint, almost imperceptible coolness.
A gentle breeze blows, and ripples on the water flow slowly in one direction, forming round eddies one after another, overlapping the passage of time. The casual and gentle way it flows can easily confuse people and make them unable to extricate themselves.
Yan hope sat with his long legs crossed, his posture comfortable yet slightly childlike.
Suddenly, a smile appeared on the boy's lips.
He hummed a little tune softly.
Ah Heng had never heard this before. The song had a touch of languor and comfort, completely in Yan Xi's style.
However, it sounds surprisingly good.
Later, by chance, she learned that the song was GL's classic love song, "Willingly".
Love is about being willing to give.
The lyrics were written with absolute certainty, and Yan hope hummed them casually, which did not fit the scene at the time, but coincidentally, it fit her feelings many years later.
Yan hope got up, went back to the cabin, and came out carrying a drawing board and an oil lamp.
"You want to draw?" Ah Heng asked him, tilting his head.
The boy nodded, his black hair fluttering in the wind, revealing his smooth forehead.
"What should I draw?" she asked with a smile.
The boy pointed to the green hills surrounding the lake on both sides.
He sat on the deck, bent his knees, and placed the easel on his lap.
Beside the boy's fair hand lay a whole box of oil paints. In the cabin, Ah Heng helped find a dark, coarse porcelain dish, which Yan hope washed with lake water. Then, like a magician, under the dim yellow light, he pulled out several tubes of paint and slowly mixed a dark blue color with his hands.
He picked up the paintbrush. Ah Heng looked at it and thought it resembled a calligraphy brush, but the handle wasn't cylindrical; it was more like a cone.
He raised his hand, his usual nonchalant expression replaced by one of focused concentration, his entire mind focused on the drawing paper before him.
The boy held the paintbrush between his index and middle fingers, his fair hand gently measuring the position of the brush. His lips were pursed, and his dark eyes were devoid of any emotion, giving him a cold and serious appearance.
As Aheng watched his hand smoothly and skillfully imprint the scenery of the lake and mountains onto the pure white paper with slow and steady strokes, she was not only amazed but also deeply moved.
Nature creates so much beauty, yet this beauty is often cooled and overlooked, existing in solitude and indifference. People may look at it with admiration and appreciation, but they are always powerless to stop this beauty from growing on its own, letting the desire to possess it torment their hearts. However, when she sees the continued exuberance of its life—just a thin sheet of paper, everything measured in the span of its lonely years is but a fleeting moment, her thirst for this beauty is completely quenched. She is amazed by the young man's talent, and moved by the kindred spirit in this landscape and by herself.
Time ticked by, he couldn't stop writing, and she couldn't stop staring, her gaze filled with unrestrained madness.
The night grew deeper.
After an unknown amount of time, the boy finally smoothed out the last stroke with his thumb and dropped the pen.
"Beautiful." Ah Heng looked at the painting, and although she knew her description was clumsy, she still smiled and raised her eyebrows.
Yan Xi smiled, took out the painting paper with the landscape on it from the easel, held one corner with one hand, and let it dry slowly in the wind.
"This is for you." The boy gently handed her the painting, his delicate eyebrows raised, and a mischievous glint in his bright black eyes.
"However, you have to do me a favor."
Ah Heng held the drawing paper with both hands with great care, nodded seriously, and when she looked up, she noticed an abnormal blush on the boy's face.
Ah Heng's heart tightened, and she reached out to touch the boy's forehead, only to find it was frighteningly hot.
Oh no, I have a fever!
The boy reached out and pushed away her hand that was touching his forehead. There was a hint of displeasure in his eyes, but he said calmly, "I'm fine."
Then, he got up and went into the cabin.
When Aheng followed Yan Xi into the cabin, Yan hope had already covered himself with a blanket, lying on his side, motionless, curled up on the bed.
Ah Heng, carrying an oil lamp, stood by the boy's bedside. Still feeling uneasy, she moved a small bamboo stool over, sat at the foot of the bed, and blew out the lamp.
Outside the cabin, there was the sound of waves, rushing and splashing, then stilling and flowing again.
Under the moonlight, she gazed at the curled-up figure on the bed, the silhouette blurred, the feeling of unreality growing stronger.
Ah Heng felt empty inside; she knew Yan hope knew she was here.
She knew that with her there, the boy wouldn't let his guard down and take a proper rest.
But she clung to the smoky oil lamp, refusing to let go, her hands still warm from the frighteningly hot temperature of her fingertips when she first touched it.
She wanted to do something, but found that her existence was meaningless.
Yan hope stubbornly insisted on upholding his self-respect; he would rather have a fever than allow a stranger to approach him.
Ah Heng always thought she was stupid, but she could see through the boy's thoughts at a glance.
She sighed and quietly walked out.
At this moment, the boy let out a muffled groan from under the covers.
Ah Heng felt a tightness in her chest, turned around hastily, and wanted to leave the cabin to call the fisherman.
"Wait a minute." A hoarse voice, tinged with suppressed emotion.
Ah Heng turned around, and the boy propped himself up with his hands and sat up. In the moonlight, his lips were pale, which made his face appear even more rosy.
"You're sick," Ah Heng said softly.
Yan hope lowered his head somewhat irritably, his tone slightly uneasy—"I don't like strangers getting close to me."
He squeezed the soft flesh beneath his fingers again, and after a long while, he weakly spoke, "Wen Heng, talk to me for a while."
“You need to rest.” Ah Heng shook his head.
Yan hope smiled faintly, ignoring Aheng, and spoke up on his own—"Wen Heng, how old were you when you learned to speak?"
Ah Heng looked at him quietly, without saying a word.
"I was one year old. Lieutenant Li held me and let me touch his throat to hear his pronunciation. The first word he taught me was 'Mama.' I learned it and happily called out 'Mama' to him. Unfortunately, he didn't praise me for being smart." Yan Xi smiled slightly, his breathing a little heavy. "Really, shouldn't such a young child be encouraged?"
His voice, though forced to sound cheerful, sounded like a sponge slowly sinking into water.
"When I was a year and a half old, learning to walk, my old man squatted on the ground, waiting for me to come closer. At that time, I was too small, and the road seemed too long, and walking was very tiring. But I really wanted the candy in his hand. It was American candy that Siwan and... didn't have. It was sent back by those two people... I'm sorry, I'm not used to calling them Mom and Dad. I thought if I got it, I could show it off to Siwan." Yan hope spoke a little quickly, and after finishing, she lay on the quilt and laughed out loud.
Ah Heng's lips were a little dry. She moved closer to the boy, raised her hand, and then lowered it weakly, smiling softly, "And then?"
Yan hope laughed nonstop for a long time before finally raising his head, a thin layer of sweat already seeping from his forehead. "I made a fuss about having Lieutenant Li carry me to Siwan's house, holding candy in my hand, smugly preparing to show it to him. Then, Aunt Zhang told me that Uncle Wen and Aunt Wen had taken Siwan to the children's park and wouldn't be back until tonight."
She looked into his eyes, where the light, subtle and slowly flowing, was like the tide, lapping and then receding.
"Oh, really, I waited until evening before I saw Siwan, but that kid still dared to smile at me, so I beat him until he cried..." The boy closed his eyes slightly, his eyelashes trembling gently.
Ah Heng's lips were dry; she didn't know what to say. Back then, she was still an infant, and every day she would just hide in her mother's arms, holding her hand as she slept.
Although she wasn't my biological mother, she was the source of all my hope and love.
"Yan hope..." she called out to him hesitantly, her tone apologetic.
I don't know what I'm sorry for.
The boy did not reply.
He was leaning against the bed, already asleep. His hands were clenched tightly, like a baby's.
Ah Heng sighed, grabbed the blanket from her bed, and covered Yan hope with it.
Once she was sure he was fast asleep, she quietly and gently laid him flat on the bed, watching his head slowly sink into the soft pillow, a peaceful and sound sleep.
In the middle of the night, hot water was boiled and a towel was applied to the affected area several times. Fortunately, it was only a low-grade fever. After sweating profusely, the boy's temperature returned to normal by dawn.
She kept wondering how much of what Yan hope said to her was something he truly wanted her to know.
Because sick people are too vulnerable, too vulnerable to hide themselves. But the person who makes no attempt to hide themselves is not within the scope of what she, who is still somewhat familiar with them, should be able to see.
She wasn't sure if Yan hope, when sober, would still expect her to know the truth.
Years later, when the dust settled, Yan hope smiled when asked about it—"It was just a fever, not that I was drunk."
Those words were truly what I wanted to tell her.
Aheng shook her head; she didn't think Yan hope was someone who enjoyed confiding. In fact, many times, because his thoughts were buried so deep, it made her think quite a bit.
Yan hope hesitated for a long time before speaking, "Aheng, although I never said it, I did indeed regard you as my future wife at the time, even if you didn't know the inside story. Because I always believed that husband and wife should be honest with each other."
Ah Heng smiled bitterly. She and Yan hope were an inescapable tribulation for life.
When Yan hope regained consciousness, it was already morning. Through the window, a thin layer of mist covered the lake.
He gently moved his fingers, trying to get up, but felt very heavy.
One quilt, two quilts, and... one person.
Yan hope raised an eyebrow and mischievously tried to push the girl away, but found that the girl's hand was tightly gripping his left hand. Instantly, he fell silent.
He frowned, then after a moment, his displeasure faded, he smiled, gently pushed the girl's hand away, and carefully got out of bed.
He stretched, feeling that he had slept well all night, but unfortunately, he felt sticky and sweaty all over.
He sniffed his shirt with disgust, wishing his nose were eight feet away from him, but that wasn't possible. He strode out of the cabin and shouted towards the bow, "Hey, I want to go ashore! Young Master wants to take a bath!"
The old fisherman wearing a straw hat smiled and waved to him.