Back hill.
A wide mountain path led straight to the summit, with plum trees lining both sides along the way.
Flat stones embedded in the soil formed layered steps, allowing one to ascend steadily.
Qi Zhimu used no technological tools, meticulously caring for this plum grove.
Fertilizing, pruning, pest control…
he did everything himself.
This mountain wilderness was often covered in heavy snow during winter.
Most birds had long since migrated south, leaving silence all around.
Only the faint sounds of his labor added a touch of vitality to this quiet back hill.
Time slipped away unnoticed.
Just as Qi Zhimu was nearing the summit, the weather suddenly changed.
The warm sun of late autumn was swallowed by thick gray clouds.
Muffled thunder rumbled in the distance.
In this typically dry season, thunderstorms were uncommon.
Qi Zhimu glanced up at the sky but did not stop what he was doing.
Before long, a light drizzle quietly arrived.
A gentle veil of rain moistened the dry air, gradually turning into a soft, pattering rain that soaked his clothes.
Raindrops splashed fine droplets on the stone steps, tapping out clear, scattered sounds.
The autumn wind carried raindrops across the plum tree branches, helping withered leaves return to the earth while quietly storing strength for the new life to come after the bitter cold.
“Mr.
Qi——” The girl’s voice drew nearer.
Qi Zhimu turned to see Clarisse hurrying up the mountain path, holding an oil-paper umbrella.
The autumn wind tilted the fine rain.
A single oil-paper umbrella couldn’t fully shield against the rain from all directions.
Unaware that her dress was being spotted with raindrops, the girl ran straight to Qi Zhimu’s side and stretched her arm to hold the umbrella over his head.
“Why did you run out without a jacket?” “Huff…
you…
you would have gotten wet.” Clarisse’s small face was flushed, her breathing somewhat quick.
A warmth spread through Qi Zhimu’s heart.
He smiled helplessly.
“Silly girl.
Curing a cold is far more difficult than drying wet clothes.
You don’t need to hold an umbrella for me.
Go back quickly.” “No!” Clarisse shook her head stubbornly.
Finally — she could do something within her ability for Mr.
Qi.
“Mr.
Qi only ever cares about others.
Even if you’re a doctor, you need to care about yourself too.
At least…” “Keep some of that world-given tenderness for yourself.” Qi Zhimu was momentarily stunned.
The corners of his eyes curved into a soft arc as he quietly gently.
“Then I’ll trouble you, little Clarisse.” “I’m already eighteen.
I’m not little anymore.” In any country — whether in her home planet or this one — that was the legal age for marriage…
“Hehe…” Hearing the girl’s weak protest, Qi Zhimu couldn’t help but let out a clear, light laugh.
Youth was wonderful.
Thinking back to when he was eighteen years old…
Hmm?
His recollection suddenly hit a wall.
He couldn’t remember anything worth noting that had happened that year.
Perhaps there was nothing.
Or perhaps, after a hundred and some decades had passed — with age — he could no longer remember.
Two figures, under a single umbrella, walked past plum tree after plum tree, finally weaving through the grove at the summit.
The rain continued steady, enveloping them in a hazy veil of water.
Clarisse quietly tilted the umbrella a little more toward Qi Zhimu.
Her left shoulder grew damp, yet she didn’t seem to notice.
“Wait a moment.
This plum tree’s branches need pruning.” Qi Zhimu stopped and neatly trimmed away the excess branches.
Clarisse quickly raised the umbrella higher.
In the movement between them, Qi Zhimu’s sleeve brushed against her forehead, carrying a faint, pleasant fragrance.
Mr.
Qi had a scent reminiscent of herbs — yet also like some unnamed flower.
It was very nice.
The girl suddenly wished time could stretch a little longer.
The sound of rain grew heavier.
A single oil-paper umbrella was no longer sufficient.
The two had no choice but to take shelter beneath an old plum tree.
Unfortunately, the plum tree’s sparse foliage couldn’t form a natural canopy against the rain.
Raindrops slipped through the gaps between branches, bursting into fine droplets on the oil-paper umbrella.
“Cold?” Qi Zhimu took the oil-paper umbrella and asked with concern.
“No.” Though she said that, Clarisse still instinctively moved a little closer to him.
The wind carried Mr.
Qi’s scent toward her.
Her heartbeat quietly quickened as she tucked her pale purple hair behind her ear, hiding the warmth there.
That spot had probably flushed crimson…
Rainwater gathered into small puddles at their feet, reflecting their side-by-side silhouettes.
She secretly moved half a step closer, accidentally brushing against Qi Zhimu’s arm.
“Don’t push yourself.” Qi Zhimu hesitated for a moment, then stepped behind the girl.
Using his height advantage, he blocked the cool wind blowing from behind.
At this moment — heaven knew how much Clarisse wanted to lean into his embrace.
“In two more months, when the harsh winter that Mr.
Qi loves arrives, these plum trees will bloom.
When that happens, let me help you pick the plum blossoms.” The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Fearing her meaning was too obvious, she quickly added, “And…
while I’m at it, pick some plum blossoms for myself too.
I’d like to use them to make sachets — one for you, one for Mother, and one for myself…” “That’s thoughtful of you.” Qi Zhimu did not refuse the girl’s heartfelt gesture.
Clarisse recalled a romantic saying: If you share an umbrella with the one you love in the rain, the raindrops falling from the umbrella’s edge will turn into seeds of memory, blooming and bearing fruit in the years to come.
But the divination results…
Just as her thoughts began to wander, she heard something unexpected.
“Actually…
I don’t really love the harsh winter.” “Eh?
Why not?” “As a child, the only vague memories winter left me were of famine, war, rotting corpses, and the fear and nightmares of teetering on the edge of death…” “Then…
does Mr.
Qi go to such lengths because you truly love plum blossoms?” “How much I love them — I don’t really know.
But I remember that Teacher loves plum blossoms very much.
She also loves drinking plum blossom wine and tasting pastries infused with the fragrance of plum blossoms.” “…” So it was because of that teacher…
Her understanding of how much weight Mr.
Qi’s teacher carried in his heart deepened once more.
A trace of envy stirred in her heart, but she did not continue the topic.
The atmosphere fell silent.
The rain eased slightly.
The two continued walking through the grove until they reached the last few plum trees.
Qi Zhimu reached out and lifted a low-hanging branch to make it easier for her to pass.
“Mind your step.” His warm reminder came, utterly unaware of where the girl’s gaze lingered.
Holding an umbrella, lifting a branch to let someone pass…
Mr.
Qi’s movements were completely natural, as if he had repeated them many times before.
Clarisse suddenly wanted to ask him — in the past, had anyone ever held an umbrella for him?
The thought made her throat tighten.
She didn’t need to think long for the answer.
Most likely not.
Although Mr.
Qi looked like a young man, she remembered clearly that when she first learned of his existence, the source of that information was already over twenty years old.
By that time, he had already settled here.
By the most conservative estimate, Mr.
Qi was at least forty years old.
How many years of holding an umbrella for someone did it take to develop such natural and habitual movements?
Probably…
it was still that mysterious teacher whose name was never mentioned.
Who — no, she — who exactly was she?
From the scattered bits of information, Clarisse inferred that this teacher was most likely female.