The Back Mountain.
A wide mountain path led straight to the summit, with plum trees lining both sides.
Flat stones were embedded in the soil to form layers of steps, allowing for a steady ascent.
Qi Zhimu meticulously tended to the Plum Grove without using any technological tools.
Fertilizing, pruning, pest control... he did everything personally.
These mountains were often covered in heavy snow during winter; most birds had long since migrated south, leaving the surroundings in a quiet solitude.
Only the faint sounds of his labor added a touch of life to the tranquil Back Mountain.
Time flowed silently by. As Qi Zhimu neared the summit, the weather suddenly changed.
The warm late autumn sun was swallowed by thick gray clouds, and muffled thunder rumbled.
In this habitually dry season, thunderstorms were uncommon.
Qi Zhimu looked up at the sky but did not stop what he was doing.
Before long, a misty drizzle arrived quietly.
The light curtain of rain dampened the dry air, gradually turning into a pattering light rain that soaked his clothes.
Raindrops splashed on the stone steps, tapping out a rhythmic ticking sound.
Raindrops carried by the autumn wind brushed through the plum branches, helping withered leaves return to the soil, silently gathering strength for the new life to come after the bitter cold.
"Mr. Qi—"
The young girl's voice approached from afar.
Qi Zhimu turned around to see Clarice holding an Oil-paper umbrella, hurrying up the mountain.
The autumn wind urged the drizzle to slant; a single Oil-paper umbrella was not enough to block the rain from all sides.
Unaware that her hem was getting wet, the girl ran straight to Qi Zhimu's side, stretching out her arm to hold the umbrella over his head.
"Why did you run out without a coat?"
"Huff... You'll—you'll get soaked." Clarice's small face was flushed, her breathing a bit ragged.
Qi Zhimu felt a warmth in his heart and gave a helpless smile.
"Silly girl, curing a cold is much harder than drying wet clothes. You don't need to hold the umbrella for me, go back quickly."
"No!"
Clarice shook her head stubbornly.
Finally, she could do something within her power for Mr. Qi.
"Mr. Qi only knows how to care for others. Even a doctor should care for themselves, at least..."
"Save some of the tenderness you show the world for yourself."
Qi Zhimu was stunned, his eyes crinkling into a soft curve as he nodded gently.
"Then I'll trouble you, little Clarice."
"I'm already eighteen, I'm not little anymore."
Whether on her home planet or this one, it was an age where one could legally marry in any country... "Hehe..."
Hearing the girl's weak protest, Qi Zhimu couldn't help but laugh out loud.
It's good to be young.
Thinking back to when he was eighteen... Hmm?
His memory suddenly stuttered; he couldn't recall any good things worth remembering from that year.
Perhaps there were none.
Or perhaps it was because over a hundred years had passed; he was old and could no longer remember.
The two figures walked under the same umbrella, passing tree after tree of plum blossoms, finally weaving through the grove at the summit.
The rain remained dense, enveloping them in a hazy watery hue.
Clarice quietly tilted the umbrella toward Qi Zhimu, unaware that her left shoulder was becoming wet.
"Wait a moment, the branches of this plum tree need pruning."
Qi Zhimu stopped and deftly snipped off the excess branches.
Clarice hurriedly held the umbrella higher. Amidst their movements, Qi Zhimu's sleeve brushed against her forehead hair, bringing a faint fragrance.
Mr. Qi had a scent like medicinal herbs, yet also like some unknown flower; it was very pleasant.
The girl suddenly wished time could stretch a bit longer.
The sound of rain grew more urgent. A single Oil-paper umbrella was completely insufficient, so the two had to take shelter under an old plum tree.
Unfortunately, the sparse branches and leaves of the plum tree could not interweave into a natural umbrella.
Raindrops leaked through the gaps in the branches, blooming into tiny splashes on the Oil-paper umbrella.
"Are you cold?" Qi Zhimu took the Oil-paper umbrella and asked with concern.
"I'm not cold."
Despite saying so, Clarice subconsciously moved a bit closer to him.
The wind carried Mr. Qi's scent toward her. Her heart rate quietly quickened, and she toyed with her light purple hair to hide her burning ear tips.
They might have been dyed rosy red... Rainwater pooled into a small puddle at their feet, reflecting their side-by-side silhouettes.
She secretly moved half a step closer, inadvertently touching Qi Zhimu's arm.
"Don't force yourself."
Qi Zhimu hesitated for a moment, then stood behind the girl, using his height advantage to shield her from the cool breeze blowing from behind.
At this moment, heaven only knew how much Clarice wanted to lean into his embrace.
"In two months, when the cold winter Mr. Qi likes arrives, these plum trees will bloom. I'll come help you pick the blossoms then."
She blurted it out, then fearing the meaning was too obvious, she hurriedly added.
"And while I'm at it... I'll pick some for myself. I want to make Sachets with plum blossoms for you, my mother, and myself..."
"That's very thoughtful of you."
Qi Zhimu did not refuse the girl's kind intention.
Clarice remembered a romantic saying:
If you share an umbrella with your beloved in the rain, the droplets falling from the edge will turn into Remembrance seeds, blooming and bearing fruit in the years to come.
But the divination result... Just as her thoughts were wandering, she suddenly heard unexpected words.
"Actually... I don't like the cold winter."
"Eh? Why?"
"In my childhood, the vague Remembrance winter left me was only of famine, war, rotting corpses, and the fear and nightmares of wandering on the edge of death..."
"Then is it because you like plum blossoms so much that you go to such lengths, Mr. Qi?"
"I'm not sure how much I like them, but I remember my teacher liked plum blossoms very much, and liked drinking plum blossom brew even more, as well as tasting pastries infused with their fragrance."
"..."
So it was because of that teacher... Her understanding of the weight that teacher held in Mr. Qi's heart deepened even further.
She felt a bit of envy in her heart and did not continue the topic.
The atmosphere fell silent.
The rain slowed slightly, and the two continued through the woods, arriving at the last few plum trees.
Qi Zhimu reached out to lift the drooping branches to let her pass.
"Watch your step."
He reminded her warmly, completely unaware of where the girl's gaze was lingering.
Holding the umbrella, lifting the branches, letting someone through... Mr. Qi's movements were incredibly natural, as if he had repeated them many times before.
Clarice suddenly wanted to ask: in the past, had anyone ever held an umbrella for him?
The thought made her throat feel dry; there was no need to think about the answer.
Most likely not.
Despite Mr. Qi's youthful appearance, she always remembered that when she first learned of his existence, the information source was already over twenty years old.
Back then, he had already settled here.
At a conservative estimate, Mr. Qi was at least forty years old.
For whom had he held an umbrella for so many years to develop such natural and practiced subconscious movements?
Probably... it was still that mysterious teacher whose name was never mentioned.
He... no, it should be her—just who on earth was she?
From fragmented information, Clarice judged that the teacher was most likely female.