Throughout the journey, the tribespeople continued to greet us warmly.
"Ah Wan, what are you doing carrying a bundle of bamboo?"
Song Tingwan remained silent and walked silently to the door of her usual shop.
She slightly raised her misty eyes, but then paused, startled.
There are no jewelry shops here.
There was only one empty, dilapidated bamboo hut.
"Ah Wan, what are you doing standing here?"
Song Tingwan took two steps forward in disbelief, "Where is Uncle Zhu's shop?"
The tribesman looked at her strangely, then at the dilapidated bamboo house in front of him. "What Uncle Bamboo? Is there such a person in our tribe?"
"The shop you're talking about, it wouldn't be this bamboo house, would it? Isn't it said that this shop is unlucky, so it's been empty and no one has rented it out?"
Her hand suddenly went limp, and she almost dropped the bamboo. Song Tingwan looked blankly at her, puzzled.
"Uncle Zhu has been running a jewelry shop here for over 20 years, and all of my jewelry was made by him."
As she spoke, she carefully put the bamboo back into the mustard seed space and set up a barrier to prevent other creatures in the space from getting close.
They then moved the jewelry cabinet, which was as tall as one person and as wide as five people, out of the storage space.
"Look at these pieces of jewelry! They're so exquisite! Ah Wan! Auntie, could you possibly replicate this style?"
People on the street gathered around out of curiosity. The aunt who had just been sighing and saying that Uncle Zhu was bluffing was now acting as if she had never seen those jewelry pieces before.
Song Tingwan sniffed silently, took a deep breath, and looked at her aunt with a slight sob in her voice, "Didn't you just say that Uncle Zhu's white magnolia hairpin was just a bluff?"
The aunt she was questioning pointed to herself in confusion, "Me? What white magnolia hairpin? And who is Uncle Zhu?"
The people on the street looked at Song Tingwan in confusion, asking who Uncle Zhu was.
Suddenly feeling a tightness in her chest, Song Tingwan packed up her jewelry cabinet, pushed through the crowd, and ran towards home.
It's rare to see someone lose their composure and have blurred vision.
After she ran away, the aunt murmured the three words "Uncle Zhu".
The more he read it, the smoother it sounded, and he even subconsciously glanced at the bamboo house.
"Why is this shop so dilapidated..."
"You know what, I glanced at it a couple more times just now, and it just felt really off."
"I actually instinctively wanted to go in just now, but I only wanted to go to the jewelry store today."
The tribespeople were completely baffled.
Song Tingwan ran into her father's courtyard and pulled him up from where he was holding the spirit.
"Uncle Zhu, Uncle Zhu!"
"Don't rush, don't rush, catch your breath first." Song Chaoxuan patted her back.
Song Tingwan took two deep breaths, and the pair of lily-of-the-valley hair ornaments on her hair bun were askew. It took her a long time to recover before she spoke again.
"After Uncle Zhu threw the magnolia hairpin into my forehead, he turned into bamboo and vanished, and the people of the tribe no longer remember him..."
She kept a close eye on her father's reaction. Uncle Zhu had always had a good relationship with their family and would often come over for a cup of tea.
Unfortunately, her father's reaction disappointed her greatly.
Looking at her anxious gaze, Song Chaoxuan was puzzled but his eyes darkened. "I've never heard of the name you mentioned."
According to Awan, the tribespeople don't remember Uncle Zhu, but he also doesn't remember such a person ever existing.
Clearly, even he had lost his memory.
Song Tingwan felt a tightness in her throat, then suddenly remembered something.
"What about the white magnolia hairpin, Father? Do you remember it? And all my other jewelry?"
The magnificent and dazzling jewelry cabinet reappeared, completely obscuring Song Chaoxuan, who was sitting and basking in the sun, from view.
Song Chaoxuan raised an eyebrow and looked at it curiously a couple more times.
After a moment, he shook his head under his daughter's expectant gaze.
“The white magnolia hairpin was worn on the day of our clan’s festival. Father, don’t you remember?”
Song Tingwan spoke dejectedly, then lowered her eyes and touched her brow.
The skin is smooth and without any abnormalities.
"Sister, what's wrong?" Song Siyao and her group walked over.
Song Tingwan's eyes lit up. "Ayao, do you still remember Uncle Zhu? He's the shop owner who gave me the white magnolia hairpin in front of everyone the day I returned to the clan."
"Qin Yuanyuan also asked me why Uncle Zhu and the others were so enthusiastic towards me."
She looked at them expectantly, and the group of people tried to recall the events several times, but still couldn't remember anything.
My heart feels so heavy and blocked.
Song Tingwan's expression gradually calmed down, but then she suddenly remembered something and took out a recording stone from her spatial storage.
In her bright eyes, the memory stone was reawakened, releasing the images left behind that day.
On the day of the clan festival, the five smiling figures appeared before me.
Her smile had barely begun when her expression changed when her gaze fell upon her reflection in the image stone.
The curve of her lips froze.
Her long hair was half-up, adorned with a gold-embroidered hair crown, pearl hairpins on both sides, and silver tassels hanging behind her ears.
Except for the white magnolia hairpin that disappeared on the right side, all other hair ornaments were present.
In a daze, I don't know if I was having a dream or if Uncle Zhu really existed.
However, most of her jewelry was still in front of her, and the image of Uncle Zhu happily making new hairpins for her was still so vivid in her mind.
Somewhat lost in thought, Song Tingwan was pulled back to her study by her father, who then dismissed the rest of the people.
The study door was closed.
Song Chaoxuan pressed his daughter down to sit before saying in a deep voice, "Sit down for a while and wait for your father."
After saying that, he took out his talisman-making tools and buried himself in his work.
Song Tingwan's gaze was slightly unfocused as she slowly sipped her tea, trying to soothe her tight throat.
Such a living, breathing elder.
And so, for the sake of his mission.
Her sliver of hope.
He disappeared before her eyes.
The boredom made her feel uneasy, but it also brought her a pleasant surprise.
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