This old house must have been carefully renovated, and someone still comes by regularly to tidy it up.
Even the weeds in the corners have been pulled clean, and a small pavilion has been built in one corner of the yard, right in the center sits a set of simple wooden tea tray and tea utensils.
Even the flowerbed where Grandma leans is neatly trimmed, every single flower pruned beautifully.
I don’t think Grandma, with her current strength, could manage all this.
As for Grandpa… even with the help of a cane, he staggers just to walk; if he still had the vigor he did ten years ago, back when he threatened to sell me off, then maybe he could keep up with the maintenance here.
Silently, I mock Grandpa in my heart. I know it’s not filial and that these are bad thoughts I should be condemned for, but I can’t pass up this rare chance to vent.
Isn’t it enough that in real life I’m already pathetic? Can’t I at least act tough in my own head? I mean, just making a dark joke like this is already being kind, right?
Comforting myself with these thoughts, I shamelessly let my feet—encased in round-toed women’s leather shoes—touch the ground. With a gentle push of my toes, the swing made from vines and colorful fake flowers began to sway softly.
Because of the special material, and since every structure connecting the swing was fashioned from that big tree in the yard, with no machinery or gears involved, the swaying made only the faintest sound, like a breeze brushing by.
Compared to the park swings back in my seaside town—those “creak-creak” plastic planks that reek of paint—this was so much better. Sitting here felt especially soft and comfortable. Maybe it’d make a great photo spot? I’d even gone out of my way to dress up nicely today.
Too bad Gu Fan went back to his hometown and didn’t come with me…
Otherwise, I could pose as much as I wanted, and let Gu Fan use the mini camera I gave him to capture it all.
On the bus ride home, we could lean close and look at the pictures together, deciding if any were good enough to print and hang on our own little memory wall.
Hmm~ It’s only been a day since we last saw each other, so why do I already miss Gu Fan so much…
A slight ache bloomed in my chest; must be a lack of Gu Fan energy, desperately needing a hug and hand-hold to recharge me.
I took out my phone, which I hadn’t touched all day, from my skirt pocket and unlocked the screen. There were only a few scattered texts from the city reminding citizens to sweep graves and not burn offerings—nothing else from any other channels.
Is Gu Fan still busy? Climbing a mountain, maybe? What’s his hometown like? Can his phone even get a signal?
Thoughts swirled muddily in my mind as I tapped out nearly two hundred words of greetings…
Hmm, I guess that counts as “simple,” right?
After all, I didn’t carefully polish it. I just let my mind wander and wrote what I wanted to say to Gu Fan right now.
After typing it all out, I thought for half a minute, then deleted everything, sending only a “little bear pats you” emoji.
I figured, since Gu Fan was busy sweeping graves and paying respects for Qingming, he probably wouldn’t want to open his phone after a long, tiring day and find me still sending a whole bunch of crazy, rambling messages.
He’d probably think I was super annoying, right? Finally getting a Qingming holiday to get some distance from me, only to have to invent sweet talk just to coax me—what a pain.
If I put myself in Gu Fan’s shoes, I’d probably see myself as a clingy catgirl, no different from chewing gum stuck on you that just won’t come off—only making people uncomfortable, annoying even if you ignore it.
Feeling gloomy, I stuffed my phone back into my skirt pocket and zipped it up, then tilted my head back to gaze at the clear blue sky.
That’s the best thing about the countryside—you can freely admire the sky’s deep blue, without any skyscrapers in the way.
Now and then, snippets of conversation between Mom and Grandpa drifted through the barely closed main house door and window, but I didn’t bother listening or analyzing what was being said.
I wasn’t interested and didn’t want to know. When it came to all the trivialities family brought, I just wanted to play deaf and blind, to shut out all my senses.
After spacing out for a while, I suddenly heard the sound of shoes dragging across the floor.
I snapped back and looked toward the approaching sound—it was Grandma, with her unsteady steps.
She’d gone to the pavilion to make me a cup of hot tea, carrying it with trembling hands as she walked over, her wrinkled, smiling face making my heart skip a beat.
“Sitting is fine, Grandma, you don’t have to go to all this trouble.”
I quickly got up to take the tea she handed me, and gave up my spot on the vine swing for her.
“Have a sip… The ride here was so far, and you haven’t had a drop of water yet. This old lady can’t do much to help, only these little things.”
“It’s fine, Grandma, you don’t need to worry. I’m already an adult, and also…”
I started blurting out what was on my mind, but quickly stopped myself before I said too much and swallowed the rest of my words.
I still wasn’t very good at dealing with people, always saying things that didn’t matter, when I could just offer a few polite pleasantries and be done with it, yet I just had to say something to upset others.
I rested my hands on Grandma’s bony shoulders and sighed, then moved behind her to quietly knead her shoulders.
Grandma’s shoulders were stiff, maybe because of her age. They felt like rough firewood left unused in a corner for years; I didn’t dare press too hard with my fingers.
“My dear… don’t worry. If you suffer any grievances this time, Grandma will shamelessly speak up for you. All these old bones can still do is be useful like this.”
Grandma, as always, smiled while she spoke, her aged hand coming around to rest on the back of my hand, as if to soothe the unease deep in my heart.
With my free hand, I picked up the teacup and took a few silent sips.
At first taste, it was a bit sour, making my rough cat’s tongue tingle, and by the time it slid down my throat, there was a hint of bitterness.
But soon after, a clear sweetness emerged, like flowers blooming after spring rain, moistening my mouth and chest.
“Grandma, is this oil-camellia tea?”
More than the sweet flavor, what caught my attention was the memories it stirred from my childhood.
Back when I still lived in this house, whenever I’d come home after playing outside, Grandma would always have a slightly cooled cup of oil-camellia tea waiting for me.
After all these years, tasting it again made me a little dazed.
“Mmm, yes. I remember my little kitten always loved this tea, never liked Da Hong Pao. I specially asked someone to prepare several big bags—your mom will take you home soon, so be sure to bring them with you.”
“Okay… Thank you, Grandma…”
Even though it’s a local specialty and I could buy it in my seaside town, or even order it online for a better price,
Still, Grandma’s thoughtfulness deserved to be cherished.
Letting go of the old grudges I’d held toward Grandma, I steadied my breath, planning to chat with her about some everyday things to pass the time.
Suddenly, the tightly closed gate of the courtyard was knocked upon, followed by the clatter of keys.
Who wanted to come in?
Outside, those nosy relatives all fell silent at the same time, as if they’d disappeared altogether, but my ears were sharp—I could still hear their tense, held breaths.