Back at the Bamboo House, he deftly lit the fire, rinsed the rice, and picked a few tender little bok choy from the Vegetable Garden, washing and chopping them.
After a moment’s thought, he took down a small string of air-dried wild boar meat from under the eaves—it was from a hunt down the mountain a while back, salted to preserve it for a long time.
He sliced the meat thinly and cooked it with the rice.
When the porridge was nearly done, he added the bok choy and sprinkled a little salt.
Soon, the Bamboo House was filled with the aroma of rice porridge, mingled with the savory saltiness of the cured meat and the freshness of the greens.
Arthur ladled two bowls, placing one on the table—this was the routine.
He took the other bowl himself, sitting on the stone stool in front of the house, eating slowly.
The porridge was hot, and he blew on it in small sips.
Halfway through eating, the door opened.
Fu Hua walked out, her gaze falling on the bowl of still-steaming porridge on the table.
She paused, then picked up the bowl and sat on the other side of the stone stool.
The two ate breakfast in silence, accompanied only by the rustling of bamboo and occasional birdsong.
Arthur secretly observed with the corner of his eye.
Fu Hua ate very slowly, chewing each bite thoroughly.
Her table manners were elegant, but Arthur noticed that today, unlike usual, she didn’t stop after a few bites—she finished the entire bowl, scraping the bottom clean.
After finishing, she set down her bowl and chopsticks, looking at Arthur.
‘Tomorrow at Chen hour, don’t be late.’
‘Yes, Master,’ Arthur quickly replied.
Fu Hua stood up, seeming ready to return to the Quiet Chamber, but stopped.
‘That shower device,’ she suddenly said, her tone flat, ‘how do you adjust the water temperature?’
Arthur was momentarily stunned before realizing what she was asking.
‘Uh, Master, currently it can’t be adjusted.
It draws mountain spring water, which is cold all year round,’ he explained.
‘If you want warm water, you have to either let it heat in the sun or boil it and carry it over.’
Fu Hua nodded, said nothing more, and turned to leave again.
Arthur sat on the stone stool, looking at the tightly closed bamboo door.
After a long while, he suddenly chuckled softly.
The laughter was light, carrying a hint of helplessness, and also a bit of…
accomplishment? The source of this chapter is novelping.com.
He picked up his own bowl of now-cooled porridge, drank it in one go, then cleared the dishes and took them to the mountain spring to wash.
The icy mountain spring water washed over the clay bowls, making a splashing sound.
As he washed, Arthur mentally calculated.
The second level of Taixu Sword Qi…
he had to practice seriously.
Whether to stay here and continue ‘healing’ or to protect himself—he hadn’t forgotten that the ultimate outcome of this worldline was Red Kite being slain by her seven disciples.
Although that should be far in the future, having more strength always meant more security.
Moreover, training was also a great opportunity for ‘contact.’ Every day at Chen hour, one hour, close-range teaching.
This was an excellent chance to deepen understanding and build trust.
‘Need to plan this well,’ he thought, drying the bowls and putting them back in the Bamboo House, then walking to the edge of the Vegetable Garden, looking at the lush greenery.
The bok choy needed thinning, the radishes would be ready soon, the scallions could be harvested…
life still had to go on.
Cultivation had to be done, vegetables had to be grown, meals had to be cooked.
This was the ‘holding onto’ he had chosen—to preserve this small, lively life full of everyday warmth, and then, with this life, to warm the person who had been lonely for too long.
Perhaps it would be slow.
Perhaps it would be difficult.
But at least, the progress bar was moving, wasn’t it?
Arthur crouched down and began thinning the bok choy.
His movements were skilled and gentle, as if handling something precious.
The warm sun shone on him, and the mountain breeze carried the fragrance of bamboo leaves.
In the Quiet Chamber, Fu Hua sat in meditation with her eyes closed, but her heart was not as calm as usual.
Those words, ‘having something to hold onto,’ were like a stone dropped into an ancient well, rippling out in subtle waves.
She had lived too long, seen too many examples of ‘holding onto’ eventually turning into obsession, and obsession brewing tragedy.
That was why she warned the child that what one holds onto must withstand the erosion of time.
But…
she slowly opened her eyes, looking out the window.
Through the crack in the window, she could almost see the figure of that golden-haired youth crouching by the Vegetable Garden.
So focused, so…
vibrant.
She remembered many years ago, there was also someone who had looked at her with such vibrant and focused eyes, saying to her, ‘Hua, I will always be with you.’ Find the original chapter at g.com.
And then?
Then, that person was gone.
Many people were gone.
Time was the cruelest whetstone, grinding away all vibrant colors, leaving only the pale, hard ‘path’ and ‘responsibility.’
That was why she had become aloof, distant.
Not incapable of emotion, but not daring—not daring to easily tie her heart to anything destined to fade.
But this child…
Fu Hua slightly frowned.
He was different.
Different from all those who had come to her before with various motives.
His eyes also held fervor, but beneath that fervor lay a kind of calm, almost weathered, that she couldn’t understand.
He would busy himself in the Vegetable Garden, worry about money, ponder how to make life more comfortable—these things that should be ‘mundane thoughts’ or ‘distractions,’ he did so naturally, even…
with conviction.
And today, his words about ‘having something to hold onto’…
Fu Hua gently shook her head, closing her eyes again.
Enough.
There was still time; they would see as they went.
But the ripples in her heart took a long time to settle.
At the Bamboo House Vegetable Garden, Arthur finished thinning the seedlings, stood up, and brushed the dirt from his hands.
Looking at the thriving Vegetable Garden, he nodded in satisfaction, then loudly sang a strangely tuned song that didn’t belong to this era, turning to put away the tools.
The song drifted with the wind, intermittent, hard to make out clearly.
The corner of Fu Hua’s lips lifted slightly.
The curve was too faint, so faint that even she didn’t notice it.
[worldline Restoration Progress: 1.5%]
The system’s prompt flashed quietly in the depths of Arthur’s mind.
He was busy watering the Vegetable Garden and didn’t notice.
The sunlight was just right, shining on Tai Xu Mountain, a scene of tranquility.