The fleece blanket quietly slipped from her body.
Clarisse gently stroked it, feeling its warmth, a soft tenderness flashing in her eyes.
“You’re awake.
Breakfast is on the table.” “…I know~” Even though this wasn’t the first time, Clarisse still found herself liking Mr.
Qi even more.
Strictly speaking, they were simply doctor and patient’s family member.
But Mr.
Qi’s gentleness far exceeded the boundaries of that relationship.
He didn’t have to go this far.
Why?
The girl’s thoughts swirled.
After washing up, Clarisse sat obediently at the table eating breakfast, taking small, deliberate bites.
Although she could have skipped the meal and heard Mr.
Qi tell her, “Not eating breakfast is bad for your health” — She didn’t want that kind of deliberately guided care.
Mr.
Qi’s home had many fascinating things.
Take this dining table, for example.
Hot food placed on it would stay warm for an entire day and night.
Apple slices wouldn’t be affected by oxidation either.
After finishing breakfast, Clarisse checked the time.
There were still a few hours left until her mother’s treatment session ended.
She then looked at the tableware that had been swallowed into the table’s “stomach” for cleaning and disinfection, then at the clean and tidy bamboo house.
The girl’s desire to help Mr.
Qi with tasks within her ability could only beat a helpless rhythm.
And there was one thing…
that Mr.
Qi always handled personally.
She had been curious about it for a long time.
After a brief mental tug-of-war, Clarisse decided to ask the question that had troubled her for so long.
She walked over to Mr.
Qi and stood gracefully, maintaining a ladylike posture.
“Mr.
Qi, there’s something…
I’ve wanted to ask you for a long time.” “Speak freely.” “Is that residence not far from here also your home?” Over the past five years, when visiting Mr.
Qi, she had often seen him either heading there to clean or returning to the bamboo house afterward.
And sometimes, she would see him trimming the dense vegetation along the small path.
That small path also led to the bamboo house.
Qi Zhimu was silent for a moment, then gently shook his head.
“…That is not my home.” Clarisse wasn’t too surprised.
She had already suspected as much.
If it were his home, why would Mr.
Qi live in this bamboo house?
“Then…
why do you clean that residence so often?” “That is my teacher’s home.
A long time ago, she used special means to move it here, but now she has forgotten to take it with her.” Qi Zhimu explained softly.
Only then did Clarisse notice that Mr.
Qi’s gaze seemed fixed precisely on that place.
But the phrase “forgotten to take it with her” puzzled her.
Did he mean moving an entire house as if moving furniture?
“Then what about trimming the vegetation along the small path…
what is that for?” Surely it couldn’t be to make it easier for people to find the bamboo house?
Although she didn’t fully understand the reason, she knew Mr.
Qi was a homebody who rarely stepped outside.
“I’m afraid Teacher might forget the way home.” Qi Zhimu said this.
“…” Clarisse was completely stunned.
In those words, she heard a trace of sorrow — very clearly, without a doubt.
Why was Mr.
Qi sorrowful?
Could his teacher have already passed away?
No, no!
Just as she was about to shake her head to dispel these (muddled and chaotic) thoughts, she felt Mr.
Qi’s hand land on her head.
“Teacher has lost and forgotten many things and people along the way to some destination…
perhaps including her home.” “I firmly believe that if one day she reaches that destination and finds what she seeks, she will remember many forgotten things.
And she will definitely come home.” “I cannot help her.
All I can do is take care of her home for her.” Feeling the warmth of that hand on her head, Clarisse felt an inexplicable stirring of envy and jealousy.
Jealousy toward Mr.
Qi’s teacher.
But such an emotionally devoted Mr.
Qi…
she liked that!
“Mr.
Qi’s teacher…
must be very important to you, right?” “Of course.
Without her, I would have died long ago in a pile of corpses.” No wonder.
Clarisse understood.
The inexplicable jealousy in her heart vanished like smoke.
A teacher who could raise such an excellent student as Mr.
Qi must be a remarkable person.
“Then where is Mr.
Qi’s hometown?” “It turned to cosmic dust long ago.
Where my heart belongs — that is my home.” “So that’s why Mr.
Qi was happy for me and my mother yesterday — because we could go home?” “Something like that.” Upon hearing this answer, Clarisse couldn’t help but sighed inwardly.
Oh, Mr.
Qi…
My heart seems to have chosen this place as its home, not that so-called hometown which holds no warmth.
Only…
you don’t know it.
“Let’s stop here for now.
I need to go to the back hill.” Qi Zhimu checked the time and left some instructions.
“If any problems arise before Ms.
Durand’s treatment session ends, notify me immediately.
I will come right back.” Clarisse was briefly startled, then understood.
Of course — at this time every year, Mr.
Qi went to the back hill to tend to the soil around the plum grove and prune its branches appropriately.
Around a certain date each year — it seemed Mr.
Qi called that day Major Cold — he would go to pick the blooming plum blossoms to use for brewing wine.
As for the taste — she had tried it many times.
Each time left her lingering, reluctant to leave.
It was so delicious it could temporarily make her forget her worries.
If asked what the most unforgettable drink of her life was, it would undoubtedly be Mr.
Qi’s plum blossom wine.
Oh, right.
On Major Cold itself, it happened to be Mr.
Qi’s birthday.
“Let me help you, Mr.
Qi.” “There’s no need.
That long dress you’re wearing isn’t suitable for activity on the back hill.
It’s better if you stay here and look after your mother.” Qi Zhimu smiled warmly, politely declining the girl’s offer.
Hearing this, Clarisse could only nod helplessly.
Yesterday, her mother’s symptoms had suddenly worsened.
She couldn’t remember anything except her daughter.
They had left in a hurry, so there was no time to change into more convenient clothes.
Qi Zhimu took off his white coat and hung it on the coat rack.
He glanced at the temperature shown on the weather forecast, then habitually turned his head and spoke in a warm voice.
“The temperature is gradually dropping.
In a few days, wearing thin long dresses will no longer be suitable, or you’ll easily catch a cold.” “I know.
But Mr.
Qi…
you…
never mind.
Be safe.
I’ll wait for you to come back.” The girl didn’t finish what she wanted to say.
Qi Zhimu nodded and headed straight out the door toward the back hill.
Watching Mr.
Qi’s tall figure disappear from sight, Clarisse’s thoughts churned.
She didn’t know why, every In winter, Mr.
Qi wore at most his white coat or a jacket, never adding more layers.
At first, she thought it was because he had a strong constitution and wasn’t afraid of the cold.
Only later did she learn that when it snowed, Mr.
Qi’s hands were very cold — almost like ice.
Clearly, he wasn’t unaffected by the biting cold.
At that thought, Clarisse made a decision.
She would enroll in a handicraft class.
She would knit cold-weather clothing herself as this year’s birthday gift for Mr.
Qi.
Things like a warm sweater…
and a scarf.