Hangzhou's bluestone pavement was gleaming with morning dew. Su Jinli held Nianli's hand as they crossed the vermilion lacquer bridge. The clatter of wooden clogs against the flagstones mingled with the cries of street vendors, like a moving painting of "Along the River During the Qingming Festival." Si Yan, clutching a copy of "Essentials of the Business Way," followed Jiang Yan, her brow furrowed as she calculated the cost of dyeing cloth for the silk shop. The jujube wood abacus on her brocade vest swayed with each step, making a subtle tinkling sound.
"Mom! Look at that!" Nian Li suddenly shook her hand off and, like a bird swooping down on honey, dragged Si Yan along and ran towards the alley entrance. There stood a copper-colored sugar painting stall. The white-bearded vendor was scooping up amber syrup with a small spoon. With a flick of his wrist, a dragon with distinct scales and claws slithered across the bluestone slabs. A glistening sugar bead dangled from the end of the sugar thread, spinning like a dragon's eye.
"Daddy and Mommy, I want to draw a dragon!" Nian Li tilted her head back, the pearl tassels in her hair brushing against the stall owner's apron. Sunlight filtered through the threads of syrup, shattering into golden dust in her pupils. The tip of her nose was still stained with icing from the osmanthus cake she had just eaten.
The white-bearded stall owner put down the copper spoon and smiled with wrinkles on his face: "Little girl, the dragon horns should be raised high and the dragon whiskers should be waving in the wind. Are you afraid that you will draw it as an earthworm?" As he spoke, the syrup in the copper pot was bubbling, and the sweet fragrance mixed with the smell of charcoal fire made Siyan swallow her saliva.
"No way!" Nian Li put her hands on her hips, her chest puffed out. "Last year in the capital, I fought with Daddy for a sugar painting. The phoenix I drew was even more beautiful than the ones in the Imperial Garden!"
Jiang Yan chuckled softly beside him and reached out to smooth his daughter's wind-twisted bangs. His memory suddenly drifted back to the Lantern Festival three years ago. Jinli, wearing a pomegranate-red cape, squatted in front of a sugar painting stall, insisting on competing with him for a dragon drawing. The result was a dragon tail distorted by the syrup, resembling a drunken earthworm. She'd stamped her feet in anger, and he'd finally coaxed her by drawing a phoenix. The phoenix's tail feathers were still in her dressing table.
"Oh? Is this young lady so impressive?" a resonant, aged voice called from behind. When Su Jinli turned, she saw an elderly man in a moon-white bamboo-patterned gown standing three steps away, gently waving a Xiangfei bamboo fan. The characters "Cang Hai" carved into the fan bones were faintly visible in the sunlight. His temples were frosted, but the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes revealed a spirited spirit. It was the man she had met at the West Lake Teahouse yesterday.
The old man walked to the sugar painting stall and tapped Nianli's nose with his bamboo fan: "Yesterday at the Broken Bridge, I saw a little hot pepper biting a fat man." As he spoke, his eyes were as clear as if they were dipped in lake water, sliding from Nianli's chubby cheeks to the account book in Siyan's arms, and finally falling on the cinnabar mole between Su Jinli's eyebrows.
Su Jinli's heart moved slightly, but she smiled calmly: "Please forgive me for laughing, old man. The child is ignorant and just playing around." She subconsciously clenched the gold-embroidered purse around her waist. It was a relic left by her mother. The embroidery thread glowed warmly under her fingertips.
"Not really," the old man clapped his hands and smiled, a black jade bracelet peeked from his sleeve. "Your daughter is brave, your son is resourceful. They're very much like..." He paused, tapping his palm with his bamboo fan. "They're very much like a remarkable woman I once knew." He looked at Su Jinli, his gaze searching like a stone cast into a lake. "The heroic spirit between your eyebrows bears a striking resemblance to my long-dead friend."
"Old friend?" Su Jinli's heart skipped a beat. She was only five years old when her mother, Lin Wanqing, passed away. All she remembered was her playing the zither beneath the gardenias, a snow-white flower pinned to her hair. Aside from the old maid in the prime minister's residence, no one had ever said she resembled her mother.
The old man's eyes sparkled, and his voice was slightly hoarse: "Her name is Lin Wanqing. She married and moved to the capital twenty years ago."
"Lin Wanqing..." Su Jinli's voice trembled, as if an invisible thread suddenly tightened around her heart. Those three words had been buried in her memory for twenty years. Now, as the old man before her gently mentioned them, the scent of dusty flowers wafted to her nose.
Jiang Yan took a half step forward, protecting Si Yan behind him, his eyes as calm as a pool: "Are you from the Jiangnan Lin family, father-in-law?" He had heard Jinli mention that his grandmother's surname was Lin, and they were a prominent family in Jiangnan, but for some reason they suddenly disappeared.
The old man heard this and snapped his bamboo fan shut, making a crisp sound against his palm. "I am Lin Canghai, Wanqing's father."
"Grandfather?" Su Jinli's voice suddenly rose, startling the copper pots at the sugar painting stall. Although Nianli and Siyan didn't understand the meaning of "grandfather," they sensed the ripples in their mother's tone and quickly hugged her legs. Siyan's abacus accidentally bumped into her ankle, making a crisp "ding" sound.
Lin Canghai looked at his granddaughter's red eyes, his Adam's apple rolling and unable to speak. He reached out, his fingertips trembling as he wanted to touch her cheek, but he was afraid to startle her, so he only grasped her hand, which was hanging by his side. Her hands were warm and dry, with a thin layer of calluses on the palms, just like his mother's hands when she played the piano.
"Good boy..." Lin Canghai's voice choked, "Grandfather has been looking for you for twenty years..."
Seeing this, Jiang Yan quickly bowed and said, "My son-in-law, Jiang Yan, is honored to meet Grandfather." His tone was respectful, but his eyes were filled with inquiry. Why did this "Jade-faced Divine Fortune Teller," renowned throughout Jiangnan, live in seclusion in Hangzhou? And why had he only just recognized him today?
Lin Canghai then turned his gaze towards Jiang Yan, examining his son-in-law. His moon-white robe was spotless, and the jade belt buckle at his waist was engraved with bamboo knots. Although he wore a scholarly air, his eyes revealed a calm demeanor. He nodded with satisfaction and glanced at Si Yan, who was hiding behind Jiang Yan. "Is this my grandson?"
Si Yan felt a little shy when being looked at, but he still mustered up the courage to whisper, "Grandfather." He secretly tugged at the corner of Jiang Yan's clothes and whispered, "Dad, Grandfather's bracelet is made of Hetian black jade, it's worth a lot of money..."
Lin Canghai laughed heartily upon hearing this. He bent down and picked up Nian Li, who had jumped into his arms. "Good, good! He looks just like your mother when she was little. He's not afraid of strangers!" He pinched Nian Li's little face and looked at Si Yan. "This kid is more like his father. His eyes are full of abacus beads."
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