Yan Sui didn’t notice Qu Jiang watching her at all. She simply followed Tian Xiangjuan away.
They passed a one-story house with a huge greenhouse set up in its yard.
“Are you growing vegetables in there?”
It was rare to see someone build a greenhouse at home.
Tian Xiangjuan shook her head. “Grandma lives there. She loves growing all sorts of flowers and plants. Best not to bother her for no reason. I hear the flowers and plants she grows are very valuable. Lots of people come to buy them, and they’re worth a fortune.”
The villagers didn’t understand what was so special about those plants, but once they heard how expensive they were, they didn’t dare go to her house lightly.
Besides, Grandma was a loner who rarely went out and hardly ever associated with the villagers.
“This house belongs to Old Master Fu. Just call him Xu Mozun. Your two younger brothers went to his house to study calligraphy for a while during summer vacation.”
Xu Mozun, Old Master Fu, was meticulous and strict, and he taught with great care. But Yan Junqing and his twin brother probably didn’t have much talent; watching them always made him shake his head.
Tian Xiangjuan knew him quite well, so she took Yan Sui over to greet him.
There was a grape trellis in the yard. Its leaves had all fallen by now, leaving it bare.
Beneath it stood a tea table, where he was sitting and making tea.
Yan Sui greeted him politely, and Xu Mozun invited her over for tea.
Tian Xiangjuan wanted her to get to know the villagers, so she waved a hand and said, “Keep Xu Mozun company, then. I’ll go home and get your room ready.”
Yan Sui wasn’t planning to return to the city, so she’d asked Jiang Yeling to pack up some of her belongings and send them over.
“All right. I’ll stay here and have a chat with Xu Mozun.”
Xu Mozun was wholly absorbed in making tea. His movements flowed seamlessly, almost like an art form.
He sat ramrod straight, and his expression was exactly as Tian Xiangjuan had described: stern and proper.
Old Master Fu seemed quite tall, but very thin, as though he didn’t eat properly.
Before long, a cup of clear, bright tea was set before her.
“Care to try it?”
Yan Sui picked it up and took a sip. “Not bad.”
She didn’t know much about tea; normally, she drank it like a cow trampling flowers.
“It’d be even better with a little snack.”
Xu Mozun shot her an exasperated look. “You certainly know how to enjoy yourself.”
Yan Sui grinned. “When my cherry tomatoes flower and bear fruit, I’ll make you some cherry tomatoes pickled with plum. That’ll be my thank-you for the tea.”
It didn’t sound very convincing.
They hadn’t even flowered yet, and she was already making promises.
“Is this the season for growing cherry tomatoes? I may be old, but I’m not senile. If you’re going to make promises, at least make them believable.”
Yan Sui wrinkled her nose. “I don’t pay attention to the season when I grow things.”
“Then what do you pay attention to?”
Yan Sui blinked, her eyes bright and clear.
She curled her lips into a smile, dimples sweet as honey, and held out her hand.
“These hands.”
Xu Mozun gave a snort. She certainly knew how to talk people around.
He pointed to the few pots of strawberries beneath the eaves, and Yan Sui followed his gesture.
That was unusual. Though these strawberries looked rather pitiful, they were still alive.
“I’ve been growing these strawberries for two years. They’ve never flowered or borne fruit. Take them home and tend to them. If they bear fruit—”
Yan Sui cut in, “If they do, is there a reward?”
Xu Mozun eyed her. She really wouldn’t let herself lose out by even a little.
“How about this: if I get to eat strawberries you’ve grown, I’ll give you a piece of calligraphy.”
Yan Sui smacked her lips. Somehow, she felt she was getting the short end of the stick.
Xu Mozun saw what she was thinking and glared, his beard bristling.
“My calligraphy is expensive—worth a fortune!”
“My strawberries are expensive too,” Yan Sui said.
Xu Mozun huffed. “Take it or leave it.”
“Fine, fine. Don’t go back on your word. I get to choose what you write.” Yan Sui figured that once the courtyard house was fixed up, it would need some decorations.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. You might not even manage to grow these strawberries. And no buying strawberries from the supermarket to pass off as your own. I have a discerning palate; I’ll know as soon as I taste them.”
Yan Sui pursed her lips. “I’m not that kind of person.”
Once they’d settled the matter, Yan Sui drained the rest of her tea and got up to leave.
Xu Mozun shook his head repeatedly. Trampling flowers like a cow!
Did she have any idea how expensive his tea was?
Yan Sui had just left Xu Mozun’s house when she ran into Qu Jiang.
Qu Jiang was dressed in a suit and tie, carrying a gift box that looked expensive. It was obvious he was from another village.
Yan Sui gave him a brief glance, nodded, and looked away.
But she keenly sensed that Qu Jiang was still standing at the gate, watching her as she walked away.
Yan Sui was puzzled. Did she know Qu Jiang?
Could he be one of her haters?
It was already annoying enough to run into a hater in the village.
After a long while, Qu Jiang finally looked away.
Yan Sui had acted so convincingly that she hadn’t let anything slip. Even he had nearly been fooled.
Qu Jiang composed himself and knocked on the door.
He waited until he heard Xu Mozun’s voice before daring to go in.
Xu Mozun glanced back, thinking the young girl had returned to pick up the strawberries.
“Oh, it’s Xiao Qu.”
Qu Jiang inclined his head slightly. “Xu Mozun, Second Master asked me to bring you some tea.”
Xu Mozun tapped the tabletop. “Just put it there.”
When Qu Jiang still didn’t leave, Xu Mozun understood.
“Is there something else?”
Qu Jiang gave an awkward smile. “It’s Old Master Fu’s birthday, and Second Master would like to ask you for a piece of calligraphy.”
Xu Mozun gave an “Oh.” Most people who came to see him wanted that.
He absently stroked his white beard. “You know I haven’t written a single character in years.”
Qu Jiang’s expression stiffened. The whole ‘I don’t write anymore’ line was just an excuse.
Didn’t the old man practice calligraphy in his spare time?
He’d heard that Xu Mozun had once given a piece of calligraphy to a villager, only for a child to burn it to start a fire. The old man had been so furious he didn’t leave the house for half a month.
Why hadn’t he claimed to have stopped writing then?
“Old Master Fu has always loved your calligraphy. You’ve always been generous. Please do it for Second Master’s filial devotion.”
At the mention of Fu Yansheng, Xu Mozun’s attitude softened a little.
He clicked his tongue. “How long until that old geezer Fu Cisheng’s birthday?”
“April,” Qu Jiang replied.
That was still more than a month away. Xu Mozun shook his head.
“No rush. Once I’ve had the strawberries, I’ll write something for you all.”
Remembering that Yan Sui had said she wanted to choose what he wrote, he kindly asked, “Is there anything you’d like me to write?”
Qu Jiang froze. He could actually request what Xu Mozun wrote?
When had Old Master Fu become so easy to talk to?
“I’ll have to ask Second Master first.”
Xu Mozun waved a hand. “But don’t count on it. I may not be able to write it.”
He hadn’t even tasted the strawberries yet. Unlike Yan Sui, he wasn’t one to make empty promises.
Qu Jiang smiled awkwardly. “If you want strawberries, I could…”
“No need. I only eat the ones I grow myself.”
Qu Jiang’s gaze slowly shifted to the few pots of strawberries beneath the eaves.
When he’d visited last year, they’d already looked as if they were about to die.
And now, a year later, they still hadn’t died.
“Would you like me to find a specialist to take a look at them?”
Xu Mozun refused again. “No need. I’ve already found someone.”
Qu Jiang said no more. Old Master Fu had always been eccentric and difficult to deal with.
After leaving Xu Mozun’s place, Qu Jiang walked slowly back to the courtyard house standing silent at the end of the village.
He pushed open the gate. A tall, upright figure stood in the courtyard.
The man’s brows were sharp as blades, his black eyes deep as ink, carrying a trace of indifference.
He wore a clean, crisp white shirt and black trousers, his expression calm and composed.
“Second Master, Elder Xu accepted the tea, but he didn’t agree to our request.”
Fu Yansheng’s voice was cool and detached. “It doesn’t matter.”
Qu Jiang nodded. “I’ll prepare another birthday gift for Old Master Fu.”
The man didn’t respond. Suddenly, his brow furrowed, and he pressed his thumb hard against his temple.
Qu Jiang took a step forward, worry appearing on his face.
“Perhaps we should still ask Doctor Zhan to—”
Fu Yansheng glanced sideways, his voice flat. “No need.”
Qu Jiang’s expression darkened. Of course. They’d been seeing him for so many years.