Morning clouds rise in the west, and it rains all morning.
The meaning is morning rain, bringing freshness and vitality; it’s a good name.
It’s just that the person who gave the name and the person who heard it are no longer here.
The scene fell into a deathly silence once more.
Only the rustling of the mountain wind through the Bamboo Forest and the Vegetable Garden, and the faint sound of a distant stream, could be heard.
The classic of poetry…
the classic of poetry again.
A flash of inspiration seemed to strike Arthur’s mind.
He stood up abruptly.
“This is great!
The classic of poetry!
We have it in the house, I’ll go get it!”
He moved quickly, almost running into the house.
Before long, he came out carrying an old thread-bound book—the Annotated Classic of Poetry he had traded for at the foot of the mountain years ago.
As he walked quickly back to the stone table, he flipped through the pages rapidly, his eyes eagerly scanning the lines of poetry.
Fu Hua and Lin Chaoyu’s gazes followed him.
The little girl also quietly raised her head, her black eyes falling on the book Arthur was flipping through.
Arthur’s finger stopped on a certain page.
His eyes lit up, and he whispered a few lines as if to confirm.
Then, pointing to that page, he walked to the stone table, turned the page toward Fu Hua, and signaled Lin Chaoyu and the little girl to look.
“Look at this line,” he said, his voice carrying the relief of finding an answer, yet also hinting at something deeper.
“From Qin Feng: Jian Jia—’The one I love is on the bank of the river.'”
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the three people listening quietly, finally landing on the little girl surnamed Su.
His tone was gentle and firm.
“‘Mei’ means the riverbank, where the water and grass meet.
The imagery is profound and distant, and when paired with the surname ‘Su,’ the phonetics are harmonious.
How about calling her ‘Su Mei’?”
Su Mei.
Two words, softly spoken.
Around the stone table, the air seemed to freeze for a moment.
Fu Hua’s gaze moved from the line “on the bank of the river” on the page to Arthur’s face.
His green eyes reflected the daylight, clear as a bell.
It was as if it really was just a flash of inspiration, finding a fitting name from the classic of poetry.
Lin Chaoyu murmured a repetition: “Su…
Mei.
On the bank of the river…
It sounds so beautiful.”
A flash of pure admiration crossed her eyes, temporarily overriding other emotions.
This name was indeed much better than her Senior Brother’s “Su Buliao” from before, and it sounded like it had a story behind it.
The little girl sitting on the stone stool—Su Mei—raised her head.
This was the first time she had fully raised her face in front of everyone.
Those calm black eyes fixed on Arthur, then slowly moved to the position of the poem on the page in his hand, though she likely couldn’t read.
The riverbank, where the water and grass meet.
Where is the beloved?
Her gaze finally returned to Arthur’s face, lingering for a moment.
Then, very softly but very clearly, she nodded.
“Mm.” A single-syllable response escaped her lips.
She didn’t say she liked it, nor did she say she didn’t.
But a nod was acceptance.
Fu Hua’s gaze flickered almost imperceptibly when Arthur proposed the name.
She looked at Arthur, then at the girl who finally had a definite name—Su Mei.
Jian Jia…
Seeking but not obtaining, following the stream, the way is difficult and long.
“On the bank of the river”…
like a misty image, a watch kept from across a river.
This name was beautiful and elegant, but it also carried a natural, faint sense of distance and pursuit.
Was it a coincidence?
Or did Zhaoer…
subconsciously give this child such a name?
A tiny ripple spread across Fu Hua’s heart’s lake once more.
She looked at Arthur’s relieved smile, at Lin Chaoyu’s slightly envious gaze, and at Su Mei’s calm acceptance.
Finally, she also nodded slightly.
“Su Mei.”
“From now on, you are the Third Disciple of Tai Xu Mountain, Su Mei.”
Su Mei nodded again.
This time, she looked at Fu Hua.
Deep in her black eyes, something seemed to settle, while something else seemed to light up with a faint glimmer.
Arthur closed the classic of poetry and let out a long, silent sigh of relief.
Su Mei.
This name had finally fallen upon her after all.
In such a seemingly accidental yet actually inevitable way, through his mouth, on this sunny afternoon, it had been bestowed.
A gear of history seemed to have quietly clicked into place once more.
But this time, it was he who, with his own hands under the sunlight, flipped through the poems and presented it.
He looked at Su Mei, the girl about to start a new life under the name “Su Mei,” and showed a gentle, encouraging smile befitting a Senior Brother.
“Xiao Mei, this will be your home from now on.”
Su Mei looked at him, the beauty mark below her lip becoming particularly clear as she slightly pursed her lips.
Suddenly, she very slightly crinkled her eyes.
It wasn’t a full smile, not even a true expression of joy, just a very subtle curve.
Yet it made Arthur’s heart skip a beat for some reason.
The mountain wind blew, and the grapevine leaves rustled, as if whispering, discussing the girl who had just received her name and the invisible, winding river of fate behind that name.
[worldline Repair Progress: 68.7%]
[Key figure “Su Mei” officially named.
Naming-related event recorded.
Historical trajectory alignment slightly increased.]
[Prompt: The act of naming may strengthen the individual’s link to established historical nodes.
Mender, please take note of subsequent developments.]
The system’s prompts were cold and objective.
But in his heart, Arthur silently responded to the words “historical trajectory alignment slightly increased.”
［little tree, do you know?
Sometimes, alignment doesn’t necessarily mean repetition.］
［It could also be…
a new beginning.］
At least, he hoped so.