I've seen this instrument before; it used to hang on the west wall of the master's room, but I've never seen him take it down and play it.
I knocked twice on the door, and the master inside responded softly. His fingertips brushed across the surface of the instrument, and music began to play, like a gentle, flowing stream.
I went inside, set out a teacup, and said, “Master, I’m much better now and would like to accompany you on your rounds so I can lend a hand.”
The music continued, and the master said in a leisurely voice, "I have prescribed you a prescription for ten-leaf eyelashes. You must take one bowl of it every day and not neglect it."
I said, "Then I'll go pack my bags now."
The master did not look up, but said calmly, "Xiao Xiang, you are still weak, so stay in the valley and recuperate."
As I filled the teapot with tea, I glanced at the xylophone and saw the character "紫" (purple) engraved on its head.
His hand slipped, and tea spilled all over the table.
When I was testing the medicine on my master, I often thought, what should I do if he remembers Zi Mo, An Chen, and the misty rain and blood-stained mountains and rivers of Yangzhou after he is cured of the poison?
I had considered many possibilities, such as ignoring it indifferently, waiting patiently, or knocking the master unconscious with a stick so he would lose his memory again.
However, things happened much more suddenly than I expected, and I was far more immature than I imagined.
Unable to remain calm or ignore it, my heart sank suddenly, and with a crisp sound, the teapot in my hand fell to the ground.
The music stopped abruptly.
The master lowered his eyes to look at the strings and said gently, "Xiao Xiang, what's wrong?"
I looked at him and asked softly, "Master, do you remember seeing me in Yangzhou before?"
The master looked up at me and said, "I remember."
Do you remember Zi Mo?
The master remained silent for a long time before finally speaking, "I remember."
I said, "Do you remember that I liked you?"
The master's brows furrowed as he looked at me, his eyes as deep and unfathomable as the sea.
I said, "Master, you don't know, but I've actually liked you for a long time. It really has been a long time..."
I once thought that if I ever achieved enlightenment, I would tell my master about my years of unrequited love. I would say: When I first met you, you were wearing a crimson-purple brocade robe inlaid with gold, embroidered with crane feathers in a dark pattern. I remember every stitch so clearly. I would also like to say: Master, your smile is so captivating.
I would say: Whether you are An Chen or my master, I like you.
I might even say: Look, I've liked you for so long. Five years! How many five-year periods does a woman have? I'm a role model, I'm an exemplar, I'm the inheritor of the spirit of Meng Jiangnu.
Now is probably not the right time to speak frankly, so much so that I can't say a single word of what I want to say.
The master didn't say anything, he just stared at me quietly.
The room was quiet. I could hear the swaying of the blooming jasmine in the garden, its petals falling one by one, scattering in the wind and covering the ground with fallen blossoms.
I said softly, "Oops, I accidentally spilled the tea."
I crouched down to pick up the teapot, lowering my head slightly. My fingertips traced the shards, as if they were cutting into my heart.
A pair of icy hands grasped my fingers. The master leaned down to examine my fingertips, then lowered his gaze.
I was slightly taken aback. I looked up and saw his profile. His eyes and eyebrows were so beautiful, so pure and untouched by any worldly dust. It was as if even if I reached out, I would not be able to touch him.
“Someone outside is looking for you, saying that Ludijian has come to consult a doctor.”
I turned around and saw the Third Master pacing in front of the door, his sleeves tucked in, and he passed a message to the Master.
The master replied casually, "I'll be right there."
He straightened his clothes, picked up his medicine box, and walked out of the room. Before leaving, he said, "This medical trip will take some time. I will come back when the lotus flower blooms."
I don't know if these words are meant for the three dukes or for me.
Only the Third Master and I remained in the valley.
In March, as incense is offered, bamboo shoots sprout from the soil in the bamboo grove, adding another ring of bamboo joints to the fragrant bamboo.
I sat at the stone table and gently stroked Xiao Jiu's fur.
The sky was clear, and the evening sun shone brightly in the teacup, turning it into a red sun.
If I count on my fingers, it was early spring last year when Lou Xiyue entered the valley to become a disciple; I can vaguely remember his spirited appearance and the fan in his hand. Unbeknownst to me, a year has passed in the blink of an eye.
Lou Xiyue never returned to the valley.
During the year he studied under me, I really didn't have time to teach him anything. I imagine he had lost all hope in me and no longer held any expectations. So, the disciple I had finally managed to take in gradually went from being kept in captivity to being left to his own devices.
That's fine too. If he marries Qi Xiao, he will be my brother-in-law. The generational gap between master and disciple makes things quite complicated.
The three men grew increasingly melancholy, their white eyebrows furrowed, and they would always walk in circles in the valley with their hands behind their backs.
I guessed he might be suffering from depression caused by long separation, so I solemnly took his pulse and asked with concern, "My lord, what's troubling you?"
The Third Master glanced at me and sighed, "You're still young."
I said, "Huh?"
The three ministers said, "I am already old."
I was completely confused. "Huh?"