Shengui Changsheng: Start from Zhenwuwei and add some points to cultivate immortality

After the autumn harvest, the two indeed set off. Nianhe carried a small medicine basket filled with new flower seeds from Guixintang and pumpkin seeds roasted by Azhu; Zhao Cheng carried a sword, a replica of Li Nian'an's wooden sword, with the words "Guixin" still engraved on the hilt. Azhu, leaning on her cane, saw them off to the town entrance. Watching the dust raised by the carriage, she suddenly said to the air, "Look, the children have grown up." The wind blew through the herb garden, and the Ninghun flowers swayed gently, as if in response.

The mountain road wound its way, and the carriage moved slowly. Nianhe lifted the curtain and looked at the roadside plants. Suddenly, she pointed to a clump of dandelions and said, "Brother Zhao Cheng, look, doesn't it look like the 'white messenger' that Great-Grandma Wangshu talked about?"

Zhao Cheng looked in the direction she pointed, and saw white fluff flying away in the wind, like countless tiny dreams: "Like. Great-grandfather said that when Wang Xiaohu's great-grandfather returned from the far north, he brought back a fragment of the Sealing Jade, which contained a dandelion. He said that it was given to him by Su Qingwan's great-grandmother, in case he missed home in the snow mountain."

Nianhe pressed her face against the car window, watching the dandelions disappear into the horizon. She suddenly understood that those stories, repeatedly told, were never just empty legends. They were hidden in the patterns of the jade pendant, in the swaying of the sword tassel, in the fluff of the dandelion, and in the hearts of everyone who was willing to believe that "longing can cross mountains and seas."

It was already evening when they arrived at the Star Sword Sect. Manager Zhao was sitting on the veranda of the Puhui Hall, holding a cup of tea with a single leaf of the herb floating in it. Upon seeing them, the old man's cloudy eyes lit up: "Nianhe, you're here! Come in quickly. I had the kitchen prepare chicken soup with the angelica root that your grandfather Azhu sent."

The Soul-Gathering Flowers beside the Sword Tomb were indeed in full bloom, their golden edges gleaming softly in the twilight. Zhao Cheng, holding Nian He's hand, walked to the three wooden tablets side by side. The characters on the tablets were somewhat blurred, but they had been carefully traced, the ink so fresh it looked as if they had just been written.

“This is Wang Xiaohu’s great-grandfather, this is Su Qingwan’s great-grandmother, and this is Li Nian’an’s great-grandfather.” Zhao Cheng pointed to the wooden plaques, his voice so soft as if afraid of disturbing something. “Great-grandfather said that every year when the flowers bloom, he would come to trace the characters, saying that he couldn’t let future generations forget their names.”

Nianhe took flower seeds from the medicine basket and carefully scattered them in front of the altar: "These are new seeds from Guixintang. Grandma Wangshu said that if we sow them here, they will grow into flowers that can 'remember things' next year."

At night, the two sat on the stone steps beside the herb garden. Moonlight fell on the *Gynostemma pentaphyllum*, making the veins of the leaves clearly visible, as if they were indeed illuminated. Zhao Cheng told Nianhe stories of the Star Sword Sect, saying that the seven phantoms of the Demon-Suppressing Sword would form a ring under the full moon, that the medicine grinder at Puhui Hall still bore the handprint of Su Qingwan's great-grandmother, and that Li Nian'an's great-grandmother often sat on a certain rock reading medicine books.

Nianhe then told him about the daily life at Guixintang, how Grandpa Azhu talked to the old Wangguicao, how the young medicine boys always blew dandelions towards the direction of Xingchen Sword Sect, and how every golden-edged flower in her sketchbook faced north.

“Look,” Zhao Cheng suddenly pointed to the *Gnaphalium affine*, “their leaves are moving.”

Nianhe looked closely and saw the leaves gently turning in the moonlight. Originally pointing towards Qing Shi Town, they were now slightly tilted towards them, as if curiously observing the two young people. The two looked at each other and smiled, their eyes shining brighter than starlight.

After staying at the Starry Sky Sword Sect for half a month, Nianhe learned to identify the herbs of Puhui Hall from Steward Zhao. She discovered that each herb had a small cloth strip tied to it, with words such as "Gifted by Guixin Hall" and "Personally planted by Mr. Aying" written on it. Zhao Cheng taught her to practice swordsmanship, saying that it was the "Starry Sky Sword Technique" created by Wang Xiaohu's great-grandfather, which emphasized the two words "guarding the heart." If the heart is not biased, the sword will not be crooked.

The day before their departure, Nianhe found an inscription on a stone beside the sword mound. The characters had been worn away by wind and rain, but it was still legible that they read "Plants and trees have their own hearts." Zhao Cheng said that this was carved by Wangshu's great-grandmother when she last came.

Nianhe touched the words, then suddenly took out the small knife she carried with her and added a line next to it: "Why seek the beauty's favor?"

Zhao Cheng leaned closer to look and asked with a smile, "What does this mean?"

“The poem that Grandma Wangshu taught me.” Nianhe looked at the sea of ​​Soul-Gathering Flowers. “She said that plants grow in the soil not to be picked, but to protect this land, just like we protect Guixin Hall and Xingchen Sword Sect not to be remembered, but to give our attachments a place to settle down.”

Zhao Cheng held her hand, the warmth of his palm seeping through her fingertips: "Then let's stay together."

On the return journey in the carriage, Nianhe tied the jade pendant given to her by Zhao Cheng to her waist, rolled up the gold-edged Soul-Gathering Flower she had painted, and stuffed it into his bag: "When the flowers bloom next year, I will paint another one, and include the Sword Tomb and the Longing Grass."

Zhao Cheng nodded and took out a small cloth doll from the cloth bag. It was a little rabbit made of the Soul-Gathering Flower stem, wearing a blue cloth jacket, just like the one that Great-Grandma Wangshu received back then: "This is for you. Great-Grandpa said that cloth dolls can ward off evil spirits and also guard people's worries."

As the carriage entered Qing Shi Town, A Zhu was standing under the old locust tree at the town entrance, a string of pumpkin seeds hanging from her cane—a gift for them. The *Gnaphalium affine* in the herb garden swayed gently in the wind, its leaves pointing towards the direction the carriage had come from, like a group of steadfast guardians.

Nianhe jumped off the carriage, ran to Azhu's side, and pointed to the jade pendant at her waist: "Grandpa, look, Zhao Cheng gave it to me, it looks like a 'Wang Gui Cao' (a type of grass).

A-Zhu touched the jade pendant, looked at Zhao Cheng, and suddenly smiled: "Good, good, now the two 'Wang Gui Cao' plants can be considered as relatives."

Zhao Cheng stepped forward, took the cane from Azhu's hand, and steadily supported the old man: "Grandpa Azhu, next spring, I want to share some of the Wanggui grass from Puhuitang and plant it in the medicinal garden of Guixintang, so that they can keep each other company."

Azhu smiled and nodded, her gaze sweeping over the golden-edged Soul-Gathering Flowers in the herb garden, then looking towards the Star Sword Sect, her eyes full of satisfaction.

Standing by the flower field, Nianhe watched Zhao Cheng help Azhu walk towards Guixin Hall. Suddenly, she realized that what Grandma Wangshu meant by "continuing spring" was probably this. It's not about deliberately keeping anyone, but about letting longing, like flower seeds, fall where they want to take root, grow new branches and leaves, bloom new flowers, and gently present the unfinished story to those who come after.

The wind swept through the sea of ​​flowers once more, and within the purple waves, gold edges shimmered, like countless eyes gently gazing upon this land. Nianhe knew that this story would continue—she would pass the jade pendant to her daughter, Zhao Cheng would hand the wooden sword to his son, the young medicine boys would scatter the flower seeds to even more distant places, and the Wanggui Grass of Guixin Hall and Xingchen Sword Sect would, every morning, gently unfurl its leaves in each other's direction.

Just like now, the setting sun falls on the two people's backs, casting long shadows like an invisible thread, one end tied to the fireworks of Guixin Hall, the other end connected to the moonlight of Xingchen Sword Sect, continuing the spring in both places into an everlasting warm dream. When Ming Shu, the daughter of Nian He, first independently recognized the Wanggui Grass, the medicinal garden of Guixin Hall had already connected with the Puhui Hall of Xingchen Sword Sect to form a hidden "flower path".

Every spring, the disciples of the two halls would exchange flower seeds along the mountain path. The Golden-edged Soul-Gathering Flower seeds from Guixin Hall would be exchanged for the Longing-for-Return Grass seeds from Puhui Hall. The cloth bags were embroidered with the other hall's mark—Guixin Hall's was a small dandelion, and Puhui Hall's was a simple Longing-for-Return Grass. Ming Shu was eight years old this year, with pigtails like Nian He's back then. A Longing-for-Return Grass jade pendant was pinned to her collar, specially carved for her by Zhao Cheng, and smaller than her mother's. "Mother, look at the leaves of this grass! It really faces north!" Ming Shu ran over, holding up a Longing-for-Return Grass leaf. The veins on the leaf were clearly visible in the sunlight, just like the line connecting the two places on the map Zhao Cheng had taught her to draw.

Nianhe was fertilizing the Phlox subulata. Over the years, her temples had turned gray, but she still maintained the habit of sketching. The latest page in her sketchbook showed Mingshu squatting in the herb garden looking at the plants. "Yes," she smiled as she wiped the mud off her daughter's face, "just like the 'Wanggui' herb in Puhuitang, whose leaves always face our Qingshi Town."

Zhao Cheng is now the manager of the Star Sword Sect. Every year during the Qingming Festival, he brings his disciples to Guixin Hall, firstly to pay respects to their ancestors such as Wang Shu, and secondly to bring newly harvested Wang Gui grass seeds. This year, he arrived exceptionally early, bringing with him a little boy, his grandson Zhao Yan, who is two years older than Ming Shu. He always clutches a herbal medicine book in his hand, a replica of the one Li Nian'an had back then.

“Mingshu, look what I brought!” Zhao Yan held up a cloth bag containing dried dandelions, their fluff still intact. “Great-grandfather said these were picked from beside the Sword Tomb. The one that Great-grandmother Wangshu planted herself has now grown into a patch.”

Ming Shu took the dandelion, carefully blew on it, and the white fluff flew away on the wind like countless tiny messengers: "Brother Zhao Yan, will they fly to Puhui Hall?"

“Yes,” Zhao Yan nodded firmly. “Great-grandfather said that the wind is the best postman, capable of carrying our messages anywhere.”

The two huddled together, blowing dandelion fluff everywhere, their laughter startling the swallows under the eaves. Nianhe and Zhao Cheng stood on the veranda watching, their eyes filled with smiles like melting spring water. Zhao Cheng held a letter in his hand, written by Steward Zhao before his death. The old man passed away peacefully, clutching a leaf of a 'Wanggui' herb in his hand, the leaf facing towards Qing Shi Town.

“Great-grandfather said that we should widen the ‘flower path’.” Zhao Cheng handed the letter to Nian He. The letter was already a little yellowed, but the handwriting was still strong. “He said that what Great-grandfather Wang Xiaohu and the others protected back then was never a certain mountain or a certain sect, but the people on this land and the concerns in their hearts.”

Nianhe touched the words on the letter and suddenly remembered what her mother, Nianhe, often said: "The most touching stories are not the dramatic ones, but the perseverance in the ordinary." Looking at the children playing in the herb garden, she suddenly had an idea: "Why don't we put up a stone tablet next to the 'Wanggui Grass' in both places?"

"What should we carve?" Zhao Cheng asked.

“Let’s carve ‘This grass connects our hearts’,” Nianhe said. “So that future generations will know that this grass is not just grass, but a symbol of our shared thoughts.”

Zhao Cheng nodded, his eyes lighting up: "Okay, I'll ask a stonemason to carve it after the autumn harvest."

After the autumn harvest, the stone tablets were indeed erected. The Guixin Hall tablet stood beside the old Wanggui grass, while the Puhui Hall tablet was among the Wanggui grass near the Sword Tomb. The four characters "This grass connects our hearts" on the tablets were written by Nianhe and Zhao Cheng together, their brushstrokes possessing both the gentleness of Guixin Hall and the strength of Xingchen Sword Sect. Mingshu and Zhao Yan, imitating the adults, placed a bunch of freshly picked golden-edged Ninghun flowers in front of the tablets, the golden edges of the petals shimmering in the sunlight.

“Great-grandfather, great-grandmother, look, even the grass and flowers remember.” Ming Shu said softly to the stone tablet, her little hand tightly clutching the jade pendant on her clothes.

Zhao Yan nodded in agreement and placed his herbal illustrations in front of the monument: "We will write down the story and teach it to our younger brothers and sisters."

A breeze swept through the herb garden, causing the leaves of the *Hope for Home* to sway gently, as if in response to their words. Watching this scene, Nianhe suddenly understood that the so-called continuation of a story is never about repeating the past, but about allowing new life, carrying old attachments, to grow in new forms. Like the Golden-edged Soul-Gathering Flower, which grew from a single plant into a vast sea; like the *Hope for Home*, which, from the Star Sword Sect to Green Stone Town, paved an ever-widening path of attachment.

That winter, Ming Shu had a dream. In her dream, she flew with the fluff of dandelions, over winding mountain paths, over a sea of ​​blooming Soul-Gathering Flowers, and landed in the herb garden of Pu Hui Tang. The Wang Gui Grass beside the Sword Tomb grew taller than a person, its leaves glistening with starlight. Wang Xiaohu, Su Qingwan, Wang Shu, Li Nian'an... those people she had only heard of in stories were sitting by the grass, drinking tea. Su Qingwan held a piece of peach blossom cake in her hand, smiling and waving at her.

"Child, come and have a taste." Su Qingwan's voice was warm, like the hearth fire in Guixintang.

Ming Shu ran over, about to take the peach blossom cake, when she was awakened by a burst of laughter. Outside the window, Zhao Yan and several young medicine boys were building a snowman. The snowman held a stalk of "Wang Gui Cao" (a type of herb) in its hand, its leaves facing north, like a little guardian.

"Ming Shu, come and see! We've put your jade pendant on the snowman!" Zhao Yan held up a jade pendant that sparkled in the snow.

Ming Shu put on her cotton-padded coat and ran outside. Suddenly, she noticed that the leaves of the *Gnaphalium affine* in the snow were covered with a thin layer of ice. The ice reflected the color of the sky, like countless tiny mirrors, capturing the scenery of both places. Remembering the scene in her dream, she suddenly pointed north and said to Zhao Yan, "Brother Zhao Yan, look, the grass is reflecting us in a mirror. Is it reflecting Puhui Hall?"

Zhao Yan looked in the direction she pointed, and the distant mountains were faintly visible in the snow and mist, like a light ink painting: "It was photographed, it must have been photographed. Great-Grandpa said that if hearts are connected, they can see even the farthest places."

The two held hands and left a trail of small footprints in the snow. At the end of the footprints was the eaves of Guixin Hall. The icicles hanging under the eaves were like strings of transparent beads, connecting the past and the present, and also connecting those endless concerns.

Nianhe stood by the window, watching the children's figures, her hand caressing the new tea Zhao Chenggang had brought, a single leaf of the *Hope for Home* floating in the tea. She knew this story would continue—Mingshu and Zhaoyan would grow up, learn to tend the medicinal garden, keep the stone tablet inscribed with "This Herb Connects Hearts" spotless, teach their children to distinguish between *Hope for Home* and *Heart-Gathering Flower*, and make the "flower path" connecting the two places grow ever more lush with the passing years.

Just like now, sunlight pierces through the clouds, shining on the wild grass in the snow, the ice reflecting a dazzling light, like countless beating hearts, warm and powerful. And this light, this grass, these children's laughter will continue to write this ordinary day into a long poem, year after year, until the end of time.

The wind swept through the herb garden, carrying the faint fragrance of the Soul-Gathering Flower from afar, and also the longing of Puhuitang, like a song that could never be finished, gently echoing across this land full of hope. (End of Chapter)