Chapter 26
After the ice and snow melted, the stream in the Cloud Recesses thawed. The stream gurgled over the bluestone, and spots of new green emerged on the banks. Even the air was filled with the moist scent of grass and trees.
Si Zhui took the warm jade flute that Lan Wangji had given him and went to the stream to practice. The jade flute was particularly easy to play, and the sound was clear and mellow, with a hint of warmth. After playing for a long time, even his fingertips didn't feel cold.
He was practicing the Requiem Wei Wuxian had taught him. He had always thought the piece was mournful, but now, when he played it, he could sense a sense of peace in its gentle melody—perhaps his state of mind had changed.
"Si Zhui, you play the flute really well!" Lan Jingyi came over without him noticing, holding a bamboo basket in his hands. "I picked some new tea buds. Senior Wei asked you to help stir-fry them?"
Si Zhui stopped playing and looked at the tender green tea buds in the bamboo basket: "How did you know I can stir-fry tea?"
"Jin Ling said so. He said you learned from Senior Wen Ning." Lan Jingyi scratched his head. "We wanted to send some new tea to Uncle Xiandu and Mr. Xian. We want to make it ourselves to show our thoughtfulness."
As he was speaking, Jin Ling arrived, holding a small stone mortar. "What are you still standing there for? Senior Wei said that roasted tea leaves need to be crushed to be more fragrant."
The three of them found a flat stone slab and gathered some dry branches to start a fire. Sizhui was in charge of frying the tea, Lan Jingyi was fanning the tea, and Jin Ling was washing the tea utensils. The tea leaves slowly expanded in the pot, and their fragrance gradually spread, mixing with the moisture of the stream, making it particularly refreshing.
"I didn't expect you to have this skill." Jin Ling looked at Si Zhui's technique of turning the tea leaves, his tone full of admiration.
Si Zhui smiled and said, "Uncle Wen Ning taught me this back in the mass grave. Back then, there wasn't much good tea, so we just picked wild tea and fried it. I never thought I'd find it useful now."
Lan Jingyi leaned in and sniffed it: "It smells so good! Much better than the tea leaves in the kitchen."
After the roasted tea leaves had dried thoroughly, Jin Ling gently crushed them in a stone mortar and placed them in a small clay pot Wei Wuxian had prepared. The pot was blue-glazed and painted with flowing cloud patterns, looking very delicate.
"This is for Uncle Xiandu and Mr. Xiandu, so it needs to be packaged nicely." Lan Jingyi took out two red silk ribbons from his arms and tied them carefully on the pottery jar.
When the three of them carried a clay pot to bring tea to Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren, they happened to catch them playing chess. Lan Xichen saw the pot and opened it with a smile: "New tea? Or did you make it yourself?"
"Yes, Uncle Immortal Governor, would you like to try it?" Lan Jingyi handed over the teacup as if presenting a treasure.
Lan Xichen took a sip, his eyes full of smiles: "It's refreshingly sweet and refreshing, much more flavorful than the fine tea you buy outside."
Lan Qiren also took a sip. Although he didn't say anything, he placed the pot in the most conspicuous place on the desk.
After leaving Lan Xichen's courtyard, Si Zhui went back to the stream. The sun warmed the jade flute, and he picked it up, suddenly wanting to play the song "Wang Xian."
When the flute sounded, the stream seemed to slow down. He remembered his father and his father standing side by side under the peach tree, the entwined sword lights by the cold pond, and the eternal fire in the quiet room. It turned out that this song contained not only stories of the past, but also the warmth he felt in the present.
Halfway through playing, he heard footsteps behind him. Si Zhui turned around and saw Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian standing not far away. Wei Wuxian winked at him, and Lan Wangji nodded slightly, his eyes full of approval.
Sizhui's cheeks felt hot, but he didn't stop playing. The sound of the flute continued to echo by the stream, as if it was telling something, yet it seemed to be saying nothing at all, simply drifting with the spring breeze to every corner of the vast cloud depths.
He knew that in the long years ahead, there would be countless more spring days like this, accompanied by friends, surrounded by family, with the melodious sounds of flutes and the lingering aroma of tea. And in these gentle moments, he would slowly grow into the person he had hoped for, unhurriedly and steadily.
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