The autumn rain washes away the green flowers, and the red leaves in the garden are more beautiful than spring flowers.
On this rainy day, the windows of the painted maple hall are all open, and the hermit is burning incense, drawing a line of white smoke, which entangles the rain and fog outside the window, weaving a piece of autumn scenery.
Xu Jiang swept the table, spread the paper, beat the stone mill, and prepared the ink. After half a day of tossing and turning, she helped Xizhi to the desk, asked for a brush and placed it next to Xizhi, saying with a smile: "Please give me your calligraphy, mother."
Xizhi stood in front of the desk, but did not move.
She hadn't painted or written for a long time. This illness was not only mentally tormenting, but also physically exhausting. Although she could now move freely, she was still weak and frail. She couldn't even control the shaking in her hands when holding chopsticks to eat, let alone paint.
Xu Jiang had been taking care of him closely these days, so how could she not know about his condition? She had privately consulted Dr. Dai, who said it was a symptom of a soul-separation disorder and that he could do delicate manual labor to stimulate his five senses, focus his mind, strengthen his self-control, and help him reunite his body and mind.
Painting is a good choice.
Xu Jiang did not force Xizhi, but picked up a pen, dipped it in ink and started writing, creating a mist of rain on the paper, and then outlined the rocks in the mist.
"I remember when I was a child, my teacher taught me to draw, but I couldn't draw well, so he asked me to copy. Flowers, trees, grass, insects, mountains, rivers, clouds, sky, birds, animals, and people... I was lazy and playful, so I pasted paper to trace. As a result, I messed up many of the drawings, and I was often punished by kneeling and having my hands slapped."
Xizhi seemed to see the scene of little Xu Jiang being punished by Xu Yuan by being made to kneel and slapped on the palms. She couldn't help but smile, but also couldn't help but complain, "You were so young, how could he have the heart to hit you?"
"The first two hits will only hurt." Xu Jiang said cunningly, "Master is soft-hearted. As long as you pretend to cry a few times and admit your fault, the beating will be like scratching an itch."
Xu Jiang handed the pen in her hand to Xizhi, "Mother, please hold it for me. I'll change the pen."
Xizhi took the brush and scraped off some of the ink when she saw it was too thick. Then she saw that there were two strokes missing in the painting and filled them in naturally.
Xu Jiang smiled slightly when she saw this, and took out another brush while painting while asking, "Mother, do you know what my best painting is?"
Xizhi looked up and asked, "What?"
"Master's portrait." Xu Jiang thought for a moment and said to Liu Mei, who was making tea, "Sister Mei, please ask someone to help me bring the bookcase over."
"Okay." Liu Mei called a little girl to watch the fire, then went to the yard with an umbrella to ask people to carry the box.
Xu Jiang watched Xizhi drawing the lines, and seeing that she had made some mistakes due to her shaking hands, he picked up his pen to fill in the gaps. Seeing that she was drawing more and more smoothly, he moved on to the other side and began to draw the eaves and houses.
The tea soup in the stove is boiling, and it is the Autumn Dew, which, as the name suggests, is the tea leaves picked in late summer and early autumn.
Compared with spring tea which is thick and strong, autumn tea is thin and light, but its flavor is extremely fragrant. Because tea farmers are concerned about picking leaves in the spring of next year, they dare not pick too many leaves, so autumn tea is scarce. It is very rare to taste this tea in early autumn.
At this time, the fragrance of tea was so thick that it permeated people's body and mind. Xu Jiang could not resist the temptation, so he put down his pen and went to the front of the table to distribute tea himself.
Xizhi smiled, picked up her pen and continued drawing.
After distributing the tea, Xu Jiang waved to Xizhi, "Mother, come quickly, this tea smells so good."
Xizhi then put down her pen and sat down. Xu Jiang helped her sit down and placed a cup of tea in front of her. "Try it."
Autumn dew has two flavors: one clear, the other strong. Clear tea is brewed with spring water, offering a tranquil cup. Strong tea is roasted and ground into powder, then cooked with spices, dates, and wolfberries, creating a lively and vibrant pot. Each has its own pleasure.
Xu Jiang offered her a cup of tea. Xizhi took a sip, savoring the tea's fragrance. Then, with renewed interest, she took three or four sips, letting the tea's aroma penetrate her. Xu Jiang was a little hungry, so she first had a cup of boiled tea with some snacks. After warming herself up, she added another cup of clear tea to cleanse her mouth and mind.
Seeing how happily she ate, Xizhi also felt a little hungry and ate a few rice cakes.
Seeing this, Xu Jiang smiled and poured her another cup of tea, fearing that she would choke.
After eating and drinking, the two continued painting. Xizhi gradually grasped the artistic conception and was lost in thought. Xu Jiang reduced her brushstrokes and eventually helped her by grinding ink, abrasives, adding water, and changing brushes. The mother and daughter worked in perfect harmony.
Liu Mei led two maids to carry the book box in. Xu Jiang saw that water droplets had formed on the hair of the three people, so she hurriedly found handkerchiefs to wipe their hair and distributed hot tea to the three people to ward off the cold.
Xu Jiang pulled the three of them to sit down again and said, "You've worked so hard, take a break."
The two maids did not dare to join the table, so they took the tea to the side hall to drink. Liu Mei asked the little maid who was watching the fire to join them. After checking the fire, she poured herself a bowl of tea and watched Xu Jiang unpack the box while the fire was simmering.
The bookcase, covered with a blanket, was shielded from the rain. Xu Jiang opened it, pulled out a scroll, and walked over to the desk. Xizhi's hand was already covering the paper with red maple leaves, but Xu Jiang didn't disturb her. When she stopped writing due to exhaustion, she helped her to a wooden chair at the back to rest.
Xizhi said, "I'm afraid I won't be able to finish the painting today."
Xu Jiang consoled him, "Then we can paint it tomorrow. There's no need to rush."
Xizhi touched her face and felt very guilty. She was obviously the mother, but she was always coaxed, advised and taken care of by her.
Thinking about how they had been separated for many years and how she had never fulfilled her duties as a mother, and now she was being made to worry, Xizhi felt depressed.
Xu Jiang moved a stool over and sat down next to her. Then he placed the painting in her palm and said, "This is the painting I copied the most. Would you like to see it, mother?"
Xizhi held the painting, her heart skipped a beat, and after a long while she slowly unfolded it.
"This is..." Her hands trembled slightly.
This is the portrait she painted of Xu Yuan when they were living in seclusion.
The portrait was old and the colors had faded a lot. She stroked it inch by inch and saw that some parts of the portrait were stained by ink. She smiled with tears in her eyes.
"My master treasured this painting very much. Because I stained it, he got really angry and punished me to clean it." Xu Jiang sighed, "But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't remove the ink stains. I was looked down upon for a long time."
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