Chapter 164 Meeting
After Lin Mo left, Wei Wuxian placed the wooden plaque carved with blue grass in his palm, rubbing it repeatedly. The edges of the plaque had been rounded by time, but the grain was still clear. The blue grass leaves stretched out, and it seemed as if one could smell the fragrance of morning dew.
“Back then, he said this wooden plaque was infused with spiritual energy, capable of warding off three minor disasters.” Wei Wuxian traced the tiny incisions on the back of the plaque with his fingertips. They were the unique mark of the Lin family. “Unfortunately, I never had the chance to use it. Instead, I lost it in my wanderings.”
Lan Wangji took the plaque from his palm and held it under the lamp for a closer look. The light filtered through the texture of the plaque, casting a faint glow. He could indeed sense a faint but gentle trace of spiritual power—the spiritual power belonging to the Lin family, clean and pure, with the scent of plants and trees.
"Lin Mo's spiritual power is still there," Lan Wangji said softly, "I'm afraid he has been using his cultivation to nourish this wooden sign all these years."
Wei Wuxian's heart suddenly clenched. For cultivators from secluded sects, spiritual power was their foundation. Tending a wooden tablet for over twenty years would undoubtedly deplete his cultivation. This heavy reward left him with both warmth and bitterness.
"I'll go check out his shop tomorrow." Wei WuXian looked up, his eyes filled with anticipation. "Buying some wood carvings will also help with his business."
Lan Wangji nodded: "I'll go with you."
The next afternoon, the sun was shining brightly. Lan Wangji, pushing his wheelchair, took Wei Wuxian to the Lin family woodcarving shop in the south of the city. The shop was small, with a faded wooden plaque hanging above the door. The words "Lin's Woodcarving" were written in a vigorous and elegant style.
Lin Mo was carving a wooden hairpin behind the counter. He looked up when he heard the noise and saw that it was them. He quickly put down his carving knife and came out to greet them: "Master Wei, Master Lan, please come in."
The shop was filled with a wide variety of wood carvings, from fingertip-sized zodiac figures to screens half a man's height, each one brimming with spiritual energy. Wei Wuxian's gaze fell on a pile of unfinished wooden plaques in the corner. They were all carved with blue grass, identical to the one in his hand.
"These are..."
"Oh, I carved it when I had nothing better to do." Lin Mo explained with a smile, "I thought if I ever met someone in trouble like you did back then, maybe I could help."
Wei WuXian looked at the white hair on his temples and suddenly said, "Mr. Lin, I'd like you to carve a family portrait for me."
Lin Mo was stunned for a moment, then smiled and said, "Okay, I wonder what kind of sculpture you want to carve?"
“Just carve the three of us,” Wei Wuxian pointed at himself and Lan Wangji, then thought of Sizhui at home, “plus a child, standing by the blue grass in the yard.”
"No problem, come pick it up in three days." Lin Mo picked up a pen and paper and carefully wrote down his request, with a smile in the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.
As they left the shop, Wei Wuxian bought a pair of carved wooden rabbits, saying they were for Sizhui and Lin Yan to play with. Lan Wangji pushed the wheelchair along the stone pavement, the sunlight filtering through the leaves onto the two of them, casting dappled shadows.
“Look,” Wei Wuxian suddenly smiled, shaking the rabbit in his hand, “It was just a small effort back then, but now it’s been exchanged for so much warmth. It feels like a good deal.”
Lan Wangji looked down at him, the sunlight falling on his eyelashes, casting a light shadow: "You are worthy."
Wei Wuxian's heart felt like being brushed by a feather, itchy and warm. He knew Lan Wangji never lied, and the words "worth it" comforted him more than any other compliment.
Three days later, Si Zhui and Lin Yan went to retrieve the wood carving. Lin Mo handed Wei Wuxian a wooden box. He opened it and found a palm-sized mahogany plaque with four figures carved into it—two adults standing side by side, a child nestled beside them, and another child standing not far away, holding a small wooden sword. Their features bore a striking resemblance to Lin Yan.
"Since the two children are always together, I carved an extra one." Lin Mo scratched his head a little embarrassedly, "If you don't like it, I will change it."
“I like it.” Wei WuXian waved his hand quickly, his fingertips gently stroking the little figure on the wooden sign. “That’s better, lively and fun.”
Si Zhui came over to take a look, and pointed at the little man holding the sword, his eyes sparkling: "This is Lin Yan!"
Lin Yan's cheeks flushed slightly, and he whispered, "Grandpa said that Si Zhui likes swords, so he asked me to hold the sword to protect him."
Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji exchanged glances, each catching a glimpse of a smile in the other's eyes. These two children, one gentle, the other reserved, together resembled the wind and flowers of spring, a striking harmony.
On the way back, Sizhui held the wooden sign in his arms, as if it were a rare treasure. Lin Yan walked beside him, occasionally helping him brush off the dust on the wooden sign. Their shadows leaned against each other in the sunset, stretching out very long.
Wei Wuxian leaned in Lan Wangji's arms, looking at the two small figures, and suddenly felt that this might be the so-called perfection.
There are old friends lost and found again, days that are becoming increasingly peaceful, lovers who never leave me, and friendships that quietly grow among my children. Those past pains have long been polished by time into warm pearls, hidden deep in my memory, and only a faint warmth remains when I occasionally touch them.
"Lan Zhan," he said softly, "When I'm better, let's take Si Zhui and Lin Yan to the Lin family's mountain gate."
"Okay." Lan Wangji held his hand tightly, the warmth of his palm seeping through his skin, firm and warm.
The bluegrass on the wooden sign shimmers in the sunset, and one can almost hear the sound of time flowing. The stories hidden in the lines, the warmth held in the palm of one's hand, will eventually blossom into more gentle flowers in the days to come.
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