Qingxi Village, in Su Yu's old house.
Pushing open the slightly mottled wooden door, what greeted him was not the desolate, dilapidated scene Su Yu had expected.
The bluestone slabs in the courtyard were washed spotless, with not a single weed left in the cracks between them.
The stone mill in the corner was polished to a shine. Strings of dried chili peppers and corn cobs hung from the eaves, swaying gently in the breeze, exuding a long-missed, lived-in warmth, as if the master had never left.
"Uncle Wang, you've been too thoughtful."
Su Yu ran a finger along the windowsill and found not a speck of dust.
