“Huh?” Clarisse subconsciously touched her cheek and felt the wetness.
“How strange…
why am I suddenly crying…” Only when she instinctively looked down at the half-eaten soybean cake in her hand did she understand the reason.
Qi Zhimu followed her gaze.
“Is it that bad?” “No, not at all!” Clarisse’s expression was complicated, as if she was struggling to sort through the emotions surging within her at that moment.
“…How should I put it?
I can’t find a very apt description.
It’s just that after eating it, all the regrets of the past seemed to gather into a wave and rush into my heart.” “Is it really that profound?” Qi Zhimu himself had no idea that the plum-pickled soybean cake had such an effect.
Under the young girl’s gaze, he also picked up a piece and put it into his mouth.
As he chewed, his movements gradually slowed.
Clarisse noticed that Qi Zhimu’s eyes had lost focus.
His thoughts had clearly drifted far away.
A single clear tear slid silently from the corner of his eye.
“Mr.
Qi…?” “Mm…” Qi Zhimu responded softly, pressing the back of his hand against his chin to catch the falling tear.
He looked down at the wet stain on his hand, closed his eyes, and savored the moment for a while.
The flavor itself was not a problem.
In fact, it was better than any pastry he had ever made before — unforgettable.
Yu Qingtu’s requirements could be considered perfectly met.
But why did it turn out like this…
Qi Zhimu guessed…
perhaps it had become a consumable Curio, which was why it unexpectedly had such special effects.
Oh well, dwelling on it was meaningless.
Even if it had become a Curio, at its core, it was still a carefully made pastry.
Its purpose: to be eaten.
Nothing more.
“Don’t dwell on it.
Life is full of unexpected things.
Just treat it as an extra gift.” “Oh.
Mr.
Qi, how did you develop such a special pastry?” “Hmm…
it’s like clenching your fist.
I just felt like I could do it.
I don’t remember researching it.
If you like the taste, you can pack up this plate of plum-pickled soybean cake and take it home.” “…I do like it, but if every bite makes me cry, won’t I get dry eye syndrome?” “Dry eye syndrome generally isn’t directly related to how much you cry…” In the end, Clarisse carefully packed up the remaining soybean cake, waved goodbye to Qi Zhimu, and said, “See you next time, Mr.
Qi~~” “…See you next time.” Qi Zhimu smiled and watched the young girl leave.
He could still speak…
but perhaps he only had one “next time” left.
When the day came to say “see you next time” for the second time, he probably wouldn’t open his mouth.
He didn’t want to break a promise.
He never wavered on things he could do with certainty.
If he couldn’t, he wouldn’t give others expectations, only to needlessly increase their disappointment.
“Meow~” Xiao Ju rubbed his head against Qi Zhimu’s foot.
Qi Zhimu bent down, picked him up onto his lap, and gently stroked his back.
“Thank you for the past three years.
In a few days, I’ll have to leave.
I won’t be able to take care of you anymore.” “Go find a new owner.
If you want to leave, feel free to go at any time.” “Or, if Clarisse is willing to adopt you, you can go with her.
But no matter what, you’ll need to lose some weight…” “Next time she comes, how about I ask her for you?” When his words fell, Qi Zhimu did not hear Xiao Ju meow for a long time.
He wasn’t asleep — just squinting, staying quietly in place, his round body shrinking further into Qi Zhimu’s embrace.
“I see…” As if understanding, Qi Zhimu sighed softly.
Soon, the sound of a stringed instrument filled the bamboo house — lingering, desolate, and faintly forlorn.
…
Winter days are always a bit shorter.
As evening approached, a spacecraft landed silently on the snow-covered flat ground.
The hatch slowly opened.
A man dressed luxuriously and flamboyantly stepped out and walked straight toward the bamboo house.
Living in deep mountains and wild forests with inconvenient transportation, Qi Zhimu rarely had visitors.
Those who occasionally came to his door were patients with difficult and complicated illnesses — people who had exhausted all other options without success.
After experiencing despair, some of them would place their hopes on that old saying: masters are found among the common people.
Qi Zhimu had lived in seclusion in these mountains for over a hundred years.
For the sake of peace and quiet, he always instructed the patients who came to his door not to casually reveal his existence.
But over time, word was bound to leak out.
Thus, unverified rumors circulating in the streets would reach the ears of those who were at the end of their rope and willing to try anything.
If they could find their way here, Qi Zhimu would treat them if he could.
As for those he couldn’t…
well, so far, he had never encountered a case that left him completely helpless.
All in all, if three or four people came in a year, that was considered a lot.
Aside from extremely rare special cases like Durand, Qi Zhimu could complete treatment for other patients on the same day.
Of the remaining very few cases, there was only one.
“Long time no see, Mr.
Qi Zhimu.” “Nine years is quite a long time, Mr.
Longjing.” Qi Zhimu put down his Chinese lute.
Longjing — affiliated with the Strategic Investment Department of the Interastral Peace Corporation.
One of the Ten Stonehearts under Diamond, the Emanator of The Preservation.
Of course, it was just a code name.
His real name, Qi Zhimu did not know, nor was there any need to.
“I thought your illness had relapsed and that you had already passed on.” “…Hey, hey.
Such harsh words the moment we reunited after so long — is that really okay?” Longjing rolled his eyes in exasperation and casually sat down.
“I’ve been your patient for over forty years, after all.
That should at least count as a friend, shouldn’t it?” “I’m not cursing you.
The medicine you took nine years ago was only enough for eight years.
Since you didn’t come last year, I assumed that Longjing of the Ten Stonehearts had been replaced.” Qi Zhimu stated the facts matter-of-factly.
Longjing was stunned.
A look of realization crossed his face.
“No wonder I didn’t receive a delivery request from you this year.” Every late autumn, Qi Zhimu would send him a delivery request — an express parcel to a remote, unnamed planet in an obscure corner of the universe.
This was no ordinary mailing.
It was the highest standard of service from the IPC’s distribution department.
One could say that unless targeted by an Aeon or an Emanator-level opponent, nothing would go wrong.
So that was why…
Wait!
Longjing suddenly remembered that he had checked the distribution department’s records before coming here.
There was no order from Qi Zhimu this year at all!
“Did you personally deliver it to that planet this year?” “No.” “…You no longer need to send parcels?” “That’s not the case.
I simply asked a senior who was passing by to bring it along.
You’re a busy person — you didn’t come all this way just for this, did you?” “That’s one reason, but not all.” Longjing reached for the teapot, but Qi Zhimu stopped him with a hand gesture.
“…You won’t even serve a cup of tea?
Are you serious?” Longjing was taken aback.
Qi Zhimu chuckled.
“Of course not.
Just not drinking this ordinary tea today.” With that, he took out a jar of Plum Blossom Wine from his folded space.
An enticing fragrance seeped out from the jar’s seal, firmly capturing Longjing’s attention.
“Oh my, the sun rises from the west today.
You’re actually willing to bring out this precious treasure to treat me…” “Heh…” Qi Zhimu didn’t explain.
He swept away the small teacups and replaced them with large bowls, then flipped his hand to grip the edge of the wine jar and poured.
His somewhat bold, unrestrained left Longjing increasingly surprised manner.
Something’s off…
Did he figure something out?