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

When Zhaohe's grandson Yanqiu first presided over the exchange of flower seeds among the three regions, Guixintang's "Continuation of Spring Picture" had already reached its thirty-second volume.

The last page of the scroll is a stroke added by Zhao He before his death: On the icy plains of the far north, the sea of ​​Soul-Gathering Flowers and Edelweiss bloom intertwined, and the leaves of the Returning Grass stretch in the wind, half facing Qing Shi Town, half connecting to the Star Sword Sect. Yan Qiu is twenty years old this year, with the heroic spirit of Zhao Yan in his brows and eyes. He always clutches a three-colored jade pendant in his hand—it was recarved by Zhao He from fragments of the Sealing Spirit Jade, with purple, green and white interwoven, like a key that can unlock all the memories of longing.

"Brother Yanqiu, the envoy from the far north has arrived!" The young apprentice ran in holding a letter. The envelope was sealed with wax bearing the wolf totem of the Ice Clan, and the edges were covered with snowflakes, clearly indicating that the messenger had arrived at breakneck speed.

Yanqiu was sorting through the newly harvested seeds of the Soul-Gathering Flower. The seeds in the bamboo basket were black, shiny, and plump—the finest "gold-edged seeds" of the year. He took the letter, his fingertips touching the coolness of the snowflakes. He suddenly remembered what his great-grandmother Zhaohe had said: letters from the far north always carried ice crystals, like a warm key that could open the door to spring.

The letter was written by A-Lin's grandson, A-Shuang, with neat handwriting and the chill of the icy plains: "The herb garden beside the Sealed Spirit Jade is ready. The Hope Returning Grass is growing well, its leaves pointing straight to the Returning Heart Hall. The children in the clan have composed a new song, singing 'Flowers from three places, fragrance from one lineage, the wind is the rope, tied into a net,' hoping that the flower seeds will come as promised."

Yanqiu smiled as she folded the letter and put it into her close-fitting cloth bag—the bag was sewn from blue cloth left by Wangshu's great-grandmother, and although the dandelion pattern on it had faded, the stitches from years ago were still visible. "Tell Messenger Ashuang that the flower seeds are ready and we will set off first thing tomorrow morning."

He turned and walked towards the herb garden, where the *Gynostemma pentaphyllum* had grown to waist height, its leaves shimmering faintly in the twilight, like countless eyes gazing northward. The four characters on the stone tablet, "The wind carries the flower's message," had been worn smooth by time, yet remained clear and powerful. Yanqiu knelt down and gently stroked the grass, suddenly understanding that true inheritance was not about preserving the past, but about allowing longing to sprout new veins in new soil, like the grass itself.

The next morning, Yanqiu set off with his disciples. The carriage carried three bags of flower seeds: Golden-edged Soul-Gathering Flower seeds from Guixintang, Wanggui Grass seeds from Puhuitang, and newly harvested Snowdrop Flower seeds—these were exchanged from the far north last year and were blooming perfectly in Guixintang's greenhouse, their white petals edged with a faint gold, as if they had absorbed the sunlight from both places.

Accompanying him was Zhao Yan's great-grandson, Zhao Heng, a young man carrying a sword with a tassel woven from the stems of the Soul-Gathering Flower and the leaves of the Returning-to-Home Grass, swaying gently in the wind. "Great-grandfather said that this time he wants to erect a new monument in Puhui Hall, inscribed with 'One Lineage'," Zhao Heng said, patting the scabbard, the two characters "Returning Heart" on it gleaming from being rubbed. "He said that Great-Grandma Wangshu inscribed 'Continuing Spring' to let spring continue; we inscribed 'One Lineage' to let the roots be connected forever."

Yanqiu nodded, his gaze fixed on the distant mountains. He recalled Zhaohe's great-grandmother's "Continuation of Spring Picture," the latest page of which depicted three interconnected medicinal gardens, Guixintang, Puhuitang, and the far north medicinal garden, intertwined within the circle like an unbreakable rope.

Upon arriving at Puhui Hall, Zhao's descendants were busy beside the Sword Tomb. The new stele had been erected, the four characters "One Lineage" just finished being carved, the ink still wet, forming a triangle with the adjacent "This Grass Connects Hearts" and "Continuing Spring," like three old men watching over each other. The seven illusory shadows on the Demon-Suppressing Sword flowed in the sunlight, softer than in my memory, as if gently enveloping these stone tablets.

“Look,” Zhao Heng pointed to the Soul-Gathering Flowers next to the Sword Tomb, “these were planted from seeds sent from the far north last year. The golden edges of the petals are brighter than those of Guixintang, like they’ve been sprinkled with gold dust.”

Yanqiu crouched down, watching the golden edges on the petals flow in the sunlight, and suddenly felt her eyes well up with tears. These flowers weren't just blooming; they were embroidering the stories of the three places, bit by bit, onto their petals—the warmth of Guixintang, the resilience of Puhuitang, and the purity of the far north, all transformed into this moving touch of gold.

After staying at Puhui Hall for three days, the two led their disciples northward. The further north they went, the stronger the wind and snow became, but they could always see the silhouettes of the "Wanggui Grass" by the roadside, its leaves pointing south, as if guiding their way. Ashuang waited in the snow with the children of the Ice Tribe. The children all wore three-colored jade pendants around their necks, and when they saw them, they cheered and rushed over, stuffing their little hands, which were red from the cold, into theirs to warm them.

"Brother Yanqiu, look at our herb garden!" Ashuang pulled him towards Fengling Jade Lake. In the herb garden by the lake, the Soul-Gathering Flowers were in full bloom in the snow, the purple sea of ​​flowers reflecting the golden light of Fengling Jade, like a flowing painting. The Edelweiss beside the stone tablet had also bloomed, its white petals adorned with ice crystals, complementing the Soul-Gathering Flowers.

At night, a campfire burned in the Ice Tribe's tent. Yanqiu distributed the flower seeds she had brought to the children, teaching them how to plant them in the snow. Zhao Heng told Ashuang the story of the Sword Tomb, saying that the seven phantoms of the Demon-Suppressing Sword were actually the spirits of seven ancestors, guarding the attachments of this land.

“We also have something to protect.” Ashuang held up a fragment of the Spirit Sealing Jade, in which the shadow of the Soul-Gathering Flower was reflected. “The witch doctor said that this jade holds the spring of Guixin Hall. As long as we protect it, the flower will never wither.”

Looking at the children by the campfire, Yanqiu suddenly remembered a sentence from Wangshu's great-grandmother's notes: "The so-called Jianghu is nothing more than a group of people guarding a flower, planting their longing into eternity." He took out the letter wrapped in blue cloth, wrote down Ashuang's new ballad at the end, and added a few more entries about the new things at Guixin Hall. He planned to take it back to the three places and have this sentence engraved next to the stone tablet in each herb garden.

On the day of parting, Zhaohe's "Continuing Spring Picture" was updated with a new stroke. Yanqiu painted a scene of three children exchanging flower seeds in the snow: the children of Guixintang held Ninghun flower seeds, the children of Puhuitang held Wanggui grass seeds, and the children of the Bingzu held snow velvet flowers in their hands. Under their feet, the leaves of Wanggui grass intertwined, like a golden road.

“This painting must continue.” Yanqiu handed the brush to Ashuang. “Next year you will paint the flowers of the far north, and the year after that Zhao Heng will paint the sword of Puhuitang. We will take turns adding to it, so that it grows longer than the years.”

Ashuang took the paintbrush and added a small clover in the corner of the painting, its leaves pointing in three directions, as if to say, "We are all here."

As the sleds departed the ice field on their return journey, the snowstorm suddenly stopped. Sunlight pierced through the clouds, shining on the frozen surface of Fengling Jade Lake, refracting into a rainbow of colors, like countless vibrant springs. Yanqiu looked back and saw the Ice Tribe children standing in a sea of ​​flowers, waving. Their figures blended with the Soul-Gathering Flowers, the Homecoming Grass, and the Snowflakes, like a painting that could never be finished.

He suddenly realized that continuing this story never required deliberate effort. Just as the grass that longs for home always grows in the direction of longing, and the flower that gathers the soul always blooms when it is time, generation after generation of people will always unconsciously bring their hearts together, letting longing fall like flower seeds in every place that needs warmth.

The carriage moved slowly along the mountain road. Zhao Heng suddenly began to hum a new ballad of the Ice Tribe: "Flowers from three places, fragrance from one line, the wind is the rope, tied into a net..." Yan Qiu hummed along. The song traveled through the wind and snow, through the sea of ​​flowers, and through the years, like an invisible thread that tightly bound together the warmth of Guixintang, the resilience of Puhuitang, and the purity of the far north.

And this song, like the flowers in the "Continuing Spring Picture," will bloom and grow year after year, gently singing this unfinished story to everyone willing to listen. Just like now, outside the car window, the grasses sway gently in the wind, their leaves pointing in three different directions, yet tightly connected at their roots, continuing the spring of three places into a never-ending warmth. This story will continue, until the end of time, until every seed finds its own connection.

When Yanqiu's granddaughter, Wangyao, recited the folk songs of the three regions in their entirety for the first time, the "Continuation of Spring Picture" in Guixin Hall had already been mounted as a twelve-volume long scroll, hanging in the most conspicuous position in the hall. Every year during the flower seed exchange season, the envoys from the three regions would add a stroke to the long scroll. Now, the picture is so indistinguishable that it is impossible to tell where the beginning is or where the continuation is. All that can be seen are purple Soul-Gathering Flowers, green Returning Grass, and white Edelweiss intertwined, connecting Qing Shi Town, Xingchen Sword Sect, and the Arctic Ice Plain into a boundless sea of ​​flowers.

Wang Yao is ten years old this year. She wears her hair in two buns, with a small tricolor jade pendant tucked into her hair. It was carved from a fragment of the Sealing Jade treasured by Grandpa Yanqiu. Where the purple, green and white colors blend together, you can vaguely see the shadow of a dandelion—that was the pattern that Great-Grandma Wangshu loved the most. At this moment, she is standing on tiptoe, pointing to the newly added part on the long scroll and explaining to her disciples: "This is the far northern ice plain painted by Grandpa Ashuang. The little footprint next to the snowflake is the footprint his grandson made when he first learned to walk; this is the Puhui Hall Sword Tomb added by Grandpa Zhao Heng. There are three flowers hidden in the phantom of the Demon-Suppressing Sword, each representing one of the three places."

"Miss Wangyao, the envoy from the far north has arrived with new flower seeds!" A disciple's voice came from outside the door, filled with barely suppressed excitement.

Wang Yao's eyes lit up, and she turned and ran outside. Her skirt swept across the medicine basket under the eaves, carrying a few petals of the Soul-Gathering Flower, like a fluttering purple butterfly. The envoy from the far north was Ashuang's granddaughter, Asue, who was two years older than Wang Yao. She wore a modified white deerskin coat with the cuffs embroidered with the "Returning Home" herb, and carried a heavy wooden box in her arms.

"Look what I brought!" Ah Xue opened the wooden box, inside were some crystal-clear seeds, plumper than ordinary Edelweiss seeds, gleaming with a faint silver light in the sunlight. "These are the 'Star-Reflecting Seeds' newly cultivated by the tribe. The shaman said that if planted next to the Spirit-Sealing Jade, they will glow at night, like picking stars and planting them in the soil."

Wang Yao carefully took the seed, her fingertips touching the cool outer shell. She suddenly remembered what Grandpa Yanqiu had said: seeds from the far north always carry the crispness of the icy plains, yet they can bloom into the most vibrant flowers in warm places. "Golden-edged Soul-Condensing Flower from Guixintang has also grown into a new variety," she said, picking a flower from the herb garden. The golden edges of the petals were wider, like they were inlaid with gold foil. "Grandpa Zhao Heng said that it absorbed the spiritual energy of the sword tassel from Puhuitang, and its flowering period is a month longer than in previous years."

The two huddled together beside the stone tablet at the edge of the herb garden, burying the new seeds under the inscription "Wind Delivers Flower Messages." Ah Xue suddenly pointed to the leaves of the *Gnaphalium affine*: "Look, their veins are clearer now, like a map of the three places has been carved on them."

Looking closely, she saw that the main vein of the grass blades led north, while one side vein connected to the Star Sword Sect in the west, and the other meandered southeast, directly towards Qing Shi Town. She suddenly understood that what Great-Grandma Zhao He had said about "one lineage" was never just empty words. These plants were more honest than people, writing all their concerns on their leaves and hiding them in their roots, year after year, without ever changing.

Three days later, Wang Yao and A Xue followed Zhao Heng's great-grandson, Zhao Yanzhi, to Puhui Hall. Zhao Yanzhi carried a sword on his back; the two characters "Gui Xin" (Returning to One's Heart) on the scabbard were newly carved, yet the handwriting was identical to that on the wooden sword of Li Nian'an's great-grandfather. "Great-grandfather said that this time he would carve 'Xin Huo Xiang Chuan' (Passing on the Torch) on the new stele at Puhui Hall," he pointed to the stone on the carriage, "forming a circle with 'Yi Mai Xiang Cheng' (Inherited from the Same Lineage), 'Xu Chun' (Continuing Spring), 'Ci Cao Lian Xin' (This Grass Connects Hearts), and 'Feng Di Hua Xin' (The Wind Delivers the Flower's Message), like an ever-turning ring of a tree."

The carriage traveled along the familiar mountain road, where the flower-lined paths were even more lush than in previous years. The Soul-Gathering Flowers of Guixin Hall and the Longing-for-Return Grass of Puhui Hall grew alternately along the path, their purple and green hues intertwined like a flowing ribbon. Suddenly, Ah Xue pointed to a mountain hollow: "There's a patch of newly grown Longing-for-Return Grass over there, its leaves pointing in three directions!"

Wang Yao looked in the direction she pointed. The grass in the valley swayed in the wind, its main vein pointing north and its side veins pointing to Qing Shi Town and Xing Chen Sword Sect respectively, like a small coordinate, marking the connection between the three places. "These are the seeds we sowed last year," Zhao Yanzhi said with a smile. "Great-grandfather said to let them serve as 'road signs' here, to tell passersby that there is a story about flowers and grass here."

Upon arriving at Puhuitang, the new stele beside the Sword Tomb had already been erected. The four characters "Passing on the Torch" had just been carved, and Zhao Yanzhi, dipping his brush in cinnabar, added a small flower to the strokes of each character: the character "薪" (xin, firewood) contained a soul-gathering flower, the character "火" (huo, fire) contained an edelweiss, the character "相" (xiang, mutual) contained a grass that longs for home, and the character "传" (chuan, pass on) contained a dandelion, as if he had carved all his longings into time.

The seven illusory figures on the Demon-Suppressing Sword swirled in the sunlight, creating a wondrous echo with the five stone tablets. Wang Yao suddenly noticed that within the halo of the illusory figures, he could see the outlines of three medicinal gardens: the sea of ​​flowers at Guixin Hall, the sword mound at Puhui Hall, and the Fengling Jade Lake in the far north, like three stars connected together, slowly rotating within the halo.

“Great-grandmother Zhaohe said that this sword has a spirit and can remember all those who protect it.” Wang Yao touched the Soul-Gathering Flower Stem on the sword tassel, which trembled gently in the wind, as if responding to her words.

At night, the three sat in the old house of Puhuitang. Zhao Yanzhi took out the handwritten notes left by his ancestors, which contained some yellowed flower seeds, dried grass leaves, and faded letter paper. "Look at this one," he pointed to a letter made of animal skin from the Ice Tribe. It had a drawing of a little girl blowing dandelions, and next to it was written, "Great-Grandma Wangshu said that the wind will carry longing to where it should go." "This was drawn by Grandpa Ashuang's grandmother. She said that when she received this letter, the Soul-Gathering Flower in Guixintang had just bloomed its first flower."

Ah Xue also took out a small cloth doll from the wooden box. It was a little rabbit made of edelweiss stems, wearing a blue cloth jacket, almost exactly the same as the one that Great-Grandma Wang Shu had received. "This was made by the clan's shaman. He said that it was filled with flower seeds from three different places, which can protect the safety of those we care about."

Wang Yao placed the doll on the journal and suddenly felt that these old objects were like a string of pearls, strung together by the thread of time, each one shining with a warm light. She remembered what Grandpa Yanqiu often said: the continuation of a story is not about repeating the past over and over again, but about letting each new moment carry the warmth of the old times and grow into a new form.

The day before their departure, the three added a new painting at the end of the twelfth volume of "Continuing Spring Picture". Wang Yao painted three children exchanging tokens in front of five stone tablets: Wang Yao handed over the seeds of Soul-Gathering Flower, A Xue presented the seeds of Edelweiss, and Zhao Yanzhi offered the leaves of Hope-Returning Grass. At their feet, the five stone tablets formed a circle, and a peculiar plant grew in the circle - its roots were Hope-Returning Grass, its stem was Soul-Gathering Flower, and its flower was Edelweiss, swaying gently in the wind, as if singing the ballad of the three places.

“When we get old, let the children continue painting.” Zhao Yanzhi inscribed beside the painting, “Let this long scroll be longer than the medicinal garden of Guixin Hall, longer than the ginkgo of Xingchen Sword Sect, and more eternal than the ice plains of the far north.”

Ah Xue and Wang Yao nodded emphatically, their fingertips lightly touching the grass and trees on the drawing paper, as if they could feel the power of them taking root in the soil.

On the return journey in the carriage, Wang Yao carefully placed the "Reflecting Star Seed" given to her by Ah Xue into a brocade box. Inside, there lay "Golden-edged Soul-Gathering" seeds from Guixin Hall, Wanggui Grass seeds from Puhui Hall, and Soul-Gathering petals that Zhao Yanzhi had just picked from beside the Sword Tomb. The moment the box lid closed, she suddenly felt that she was like the seed in that box, carrying the ties of three places, destined to take deeper roots in the story. (End of Chapter)