“So there are so many particulars to plum blossoms…” Clarisse looked genuinely surprised.
“It must be because your homeland doesn’t have plum blossoms.” “That’s true.
Not only are there no plum blossoms to be seen, but the flowers planted in the palace are mostly ornamental.
Even the varieties outside the imperial city are quite limited.” Mentioning her homeland, Clarisse shook her head gently.
“For making sachets, the young ladies can only pick the most fragrant flowers from those few varieties.” “Even then, it’s nowhere near the fragrance of plum blossoms.” Qi Zhimu gently lifted a plum blossom with his bamboo knife.
With a slight flick of his wrist, he deftly plucked it.
“If you like them, you can take some plum saplings from here back to your homeland to plant.” “Well…
that’s still a long way off!” Clarisse’s cheeks flushed for a moment.
“Since my student registration has been transferred here, I don’t plan to go back to my homeland for now.” “No rush.
While I’m away handling matters…
if you graduate before I return, feel free to come up the mountain and take some saplings.” “We’ll talk about it when the time comes.
I’m going to go pick plum blossoms the way Mr.
Qi explained.” “Here, a tool.” Qi Zhimu handed her a bamboo knife and a slightly smaller flower basket.
“No need.
I brought scissors.” Clarisse waved the small scissors in her hand.
“It’s best not to use metal tools.
Any contact with the plum blossoms, no matter how slight, can affect the quality.” “Ah, I didn’t know that…
Thank you for the reminder, Mr.
Qi!” “It’s nothing.” Clarisse took the bamboo knife.
Watching her light figure nimbly weave between the flowering branches, a faint smile rose in Qi Zhimu’s eyes.
He looked down at the bamboo basket already full, put it into his folded space, and took out a new one.
The number of plum blossoms he planned to pick this year was considerably more than in previous years.
After all, he was about to die.
For the Plum Blossom Wine he would send to his teacher in the future, only this year’s batch would be made by his own hands.
Under the premise that the raw materials would not affect the flavor, he would simply do his best to pick as many as he could.
…
Around noon, the two returned to the bamboo house with their harvest.
Qi Zhimu poured the plum blossoms into a sink, patiently rinsing away impurities, then drained them with an absorbent cloth before dividing them into different wine jars.
Next, he added fine granulated sugar into the jars for candying a process that would take about 48 hours and could effectively remove astringency.
“Mr.
Qi, couldn’t the washing and draining be done by those magical appliances in your home?” Watching his seamless movements, Clarisse was a bit confused.
“Would an automatic machine damage the quality of the plum blossoms?” “No, it wouldn’t.” Qi Zhimu chuckled softly.
“Doing it by hand carries more meaning and more sincerity.
It’s also part of life’s pleasures.” “In ancient times, before human civilization had advanced, many people would spend their old age tending a garden or a plot of land, personally tending to the things they loved.” “Mr.
Qi, how old are you this year?
You look just like a young person in their twenties.
You’re nowhere near old!” “…” The young girl spoke thoughtlessly.
Qi Zhimu only smiled and did not respond.
In truth, he was already very, very old.
So old that in just a few days, he would return to the dust.
Most of what he needed to do before dying was already done.
Upon careful reflection, there did not seem to be many regrets left.
If he had to name one, it would be that he had failed to persuade his teacher to let go of her obsession with resurrecting her loved ones.
Besides, it wasn’t even truly a resurrection in any real sense…
Qi Zhimu sealed the last wine jar and moved them one by one to the corner of the wall to rest.
“Stay for lunch before you go, little girl.” “Mm~ Let me help out in the kitchen.” Clarisse did not dwell on the matter of age.
She did not care about that anyway.
She went into the back kitchen, and together they prepared the main meal.
Qi Zhimu then began preparing the ingredients for pastries.
Fallen plum blossoms, perilla plum powder, soybeans, and a tightly sealed bottle of liquid.
“Mr.
Qi, what’s in this bottle?” “Water from melted snow that fell on plum blossoms.
I only managed to collect this one bottle last year.” “…Last year!” Clarisse was stunned.
“The ingredients are that troublesome and particular — is this a newly developed pastry?” “You could say that.” Qi Zhimu first washed and soaked the soybeans, added the plum blossom snow water, and blended them into a paste.
Then he added sugar and perilla plum powder.
Unconsciously, he began to hum a soft tune.
Occasionally, he murmured something under his breath — the syllables indistinct, impossible to make out.
As he hummed, he stir-fried the mixture until dry, kneaded it into a dough, placed it into a mold to cool, pressed a few fallen plum blossoms on top, wrapped it in oil paper, and set it aside.
The entire process flowed like water.
Clarisse watched, entranced.
When she snapped out of it and checked the time, she realized dozens of minutes had already passed.
“Mr.
Qi, the song you were just singing sounded a bit sad.” “Was I singing?” “Not only were you singing, it also sounded like you were reciting poetry — probably a poem, though I couldn’t hear it clearly.” “Hmm…?” Qi Zhimu tilted his head, rubbing his chin as he tried to remember, but had no recollection.
How strange.
Could it be that the newly changed medicine wasn’t working well enough to suppress the symptoms of senile dementia?
Oh well, at this point, it didn’t really matter anymore, as long as no major mistakes occurred.
Yu Qingtu wouldn’t be visiting again anytime soon.
In fact, he didn’t even need to take medicine — but his aged, frail body simply couldn’t get anything done.
To avoid lying in bed waiting for death, he still had to take the necessary medicine.
“Let’s eat first.
The plum-pickled soybean cake I just made needs to rest for a bit to let the flavors settle.
It can serve as dessert after the meal.” This lunch was a very warm affair for the two of them.
At least, that was how Clarisse felt.
Thinking of the future — living in seclusion with Mr.
Qi in the bamboo house, spending the rest of her days with him — she couldn’t even stop the corners of her mouth from curving upward.
This was the future she wanted.
Just thinking about it made her happy.
Away from conflict and complicated human relationships, staying peacefully together in the mountains.
However, Clarisse had no idea how Qi Zhimu felt during this meal.
…This was likely the last lunch he would ever share with little Clarisse.
In this life, apart from Yu Qingtu — who was of an extremely high generation above him — the only person who could truly be called his friend was probably Clarisse.
And that was exactly why Qi Zhimu had asked the young girl to stay for lunch before leaving.
A silent farewell.
Only, Qi Zhimu had forgotten one thing.
Clarisse had once asked him to be her clothing model.
Ever since she had taken his body measurements that day, she had never brought it up again.
It was no wonder he had subconsciously dismissed it, assuming it had just been a passing whim of the young girl.
“Mr.
Qi, while you’re away, I’ll take care of the plum grove for you.” “No need.” “It’s no trouble.
It won’t take up too much of my time.” “Really, no need.
I’ve ordered a…
robot from the Interastral Peace Corporation.
It will faithfully carry out its commands — including taking care of the plum grove.” “…Alright.” Hearing the name of the Interastral Peace Corporation, Clarisse understood.
She had heard that the IPC’s reach spanned the entire universe, possessing advanced technology and unimaginable wealth.
Not just the planet of her homeland, but this planet as well — the IPC had a presence here.
“Now’s about the right time.
Try the taste of the plum-pickled soybean cake.” Qi Zhimu took a few pieces of pastry from the mold and brought them to the table.
“See if it suits your taste.
I’ll go handle the rest.” He returned to the back kitchen, wrapped the remaining pastries in oil paper again, and stored them in a special preservation container before coming back to the table.
To his surprise, Clarisse sat motionless.
Tears were streaming down her cheeks.
“Why are you crying?” …