Su Qingyao happened to witness this scene as she approached, carrying a gilded lacquer box. She placed the box on the stone table with a soft snap, and the lid opened, revealing a freshly blended rouge called "Drunk Autumn Clouds." "Are you foolish again?" she said harshly, but the wrinkles in her eyes were filled with worry. "I asked Nianli to fetch Imperial Physician Liu. He says the old man is... old age is taking its toll on his memory."
Jiang Yan looked at Su Qingyao warily: "Who are you?"
"I'm her eldest sister!" Su Qingyao raised her eyebrows and deliberately put on a stern face, revealing the dignity of a lady from a noble family. "If you want to marry my sister, what will you bring as a betrothal gift? You can't just bring a broken bamboo stick, right?"
Jiang Yan was stunned for a moment, then hurriedly pulled out the piece of sugar-painted bamboo from his bosom, and then took out half a piece of dry osmanthus cake from his sleeve pocket. That was the snack Su Jinli gave him that morning, and he couldn't bear to eat it, so he kept it with him. "This... and the poem I wrote! Although it's only half a poem now, I will finish it!"
Su Qingyao looked at the bamboo sliver, polished to a shine, and then at the pure sincerity in Jiang Yan's eyes. She suddenly remembered how Su Jinli had led them to form a poetry club and revise couplets when she was young and had just been reborn. She sighed and said, "Alright, alright. Since you're so sincere, I agree."
Su Jinli helped Jiang Yan sit down again, straightened the crooked collar of his fox fur coat, and asked softly, "Are you hungry? I baked you some almond pastries with lots of your favorite pine nuts."
"Yes!" Jiang Yan nodded vigorously, like an obedient child, his eyes shining as he stared at the celadon plate on the stone table. "The snacks made by the young lady are the most delicious, even better than the imperial meals in the palace."
Su Jinli picked up a piece of almond pastry and carefully placed it near his mouth. Seeing him chewing it in small bites, with the crumbs of pastry on the corners of his mouth, she couldn't help but tear up. She remembered the same satisfied look on his face when he first tasted her pastry fifty years ago. At that time, he said, "Jinli, can I eat your pastries for the rest of my life?"
"Don't cry, girl," Jiang Yan stretched out his skinny hand, trying to wipe her tears, but he clumsily poked her cheek. "Did I do something wrong? If you're unhappy, I... I'll go buy you another sugar painting."
"I'm not unhappy," Su Jinli shook her head, holding his hand and gently resting her face in his palm, "I'm just... too happy."
As the sun set, its golden afterglow shone through the corridor, stretching their shadows far longer. Doctor Liu, carrying his medicine chest, hurried over. While examining Jiang Yan's pulse, he murmured, "Miss, do you think we should plant a pomegranate tree in our future home?"
Su Jinli looked at his blank eyes, her heart aching, but she still smiled and replied, "Okay, plant the biggest one."
After seeing off Doctor Liu, Su Jinli returned to the corridor and saw Jiang Yan, staring blankly at the pomegranate tree, muttering something to himself. She approached and heard him whisper, "Jinli...you said you'd accompany me to watch the pomegranate blossoms for fifty years..."
"I'm here, Jiang Yan." Su Jinli sat down beside him.
Jiang Yan turned to look at her, his eyes returning to their usual cloudy state. "Who are you?"
Su Jinli's heart sank, but she took a deep breath, held his hand, and smiled like she had fifty years ago: "I'm Su Jinli from the Chengnan Poetry Society. Don't you remember? You said you would marry me and buy me the best sugar paintings on West Street."
"Oh, yes!" Jiang Yan suddenly understood, and that pure smile bloomed on his face again. He took out the piece of sugar-painted bamboo from his arms, holding it like a rare treasure, "Miss Jinli, will you marry me?"
The autumn wind blew up fallen leaves, and a golden ginkgo leaf landed in Su Jinli's hair. She watched the light rekindled in her husband's eyes. That light contained the starlight of fifty years ago, the warm yellow lights of the street sugar painting stalls, the soybean oil lamps in the dilapidated temple, and the red candles at the golden wedding celebration.
"I do." She nodded vigorously, tears streaming down her face again, but with a smile, "Jiang Yan, I would have married you a long time ago. I've been married for fifty years."
The old pomegranate tree outside the corridor swayed gently in the autumn breeze, as if witnessing this proposal, repeated countless times over fifty years. Su Jinli leaned on Jiang Yan's shoulder, listening to his gradually steadying breathing. Suddenly, she felt that even if he forgot the whole world, as long as he still remembered to marry her, as long as she could still see in his eyes, for a moment, the boy who had squatted on the street and thrust the sugar-painted phoenix into her hands, then all the passing of time would have the most gentle meaning.
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