Bengtie: My death fueled their madness.

The back mountain.

A wide mountain path leads straight to the top of the mountain, with plum trees extending along both sides of the path.

Flat stones are embedded in the soil to form steps, allowing people to climb steadily.

Qi Zhimu took meticulous care of the plum grove without using any technological tools.

Fertilizing, pruning, pest control... he did everything himself.

This mountain area is often covered by heavy snow in winter, and most birds have already migrated south, leaving the surroundings desolate.

Only the faint sounds of labor add a touch of life to this tranquil back hill.

Time passed quietly, and just as Qi Zhimu was about to reach the summit, the weather suddenly changed.

The warm autumn sun was swallowed by thick gray clouds, and muffled thunder rumbled.

Thunderstorms are rare during this typically dry season.

Qi Zhimu looked up at the sky, but did not stop what he was doing.

Before long, a light drizzle began to fall.

The light rain moistened the dry air, gradually turning into a light drizzle that soaked through our clothes.

Raindrops fell on the stone steps, splashing up tiny droplets that tapped out a clear, rhythmic sound.

The autumn wind, carrying raindrops, brushes across the branches of the plum tree, helping the withered leaves return to the dust, quietly accumulating strength for the new life that is about to begin after enduring the bitter cold.

"Mr. Qi—"

The girl's voice came from afar.

Qi Zhimu turned around and saw Clarice holding an oil-paper umbrella, hurrying up the mountain.

The autumn wind urges the drizzle to fall, but an oil-paper umbrella does not provide all-around rain protection.

The girl didn't notice that her skirt was getting wet from the raindrops. She ran straight to Qi Zhimu's side and stretched out her arm to hold the umbrella over his head.

"Why did you come out without a coat?"

"Phew... I'll get wet." Clarice's face was flushed, and her breathing was a little rapid.

Qi Zhimu felt a warmth in his heart and revealed a helpless smile.

"Silly girl, curing a cold is much harder than drying soaking wet clothes. Don't hold an umbrella for me, go back now."

"No!"

Clarisse stubbornly shook her head.

It's not easy to do something within my power for Mr. Qi.

"Mr. Qi only cares about others, but even doctors need to care about themselves, at least..."

"Keep some of the kindness you show to the world for yourself."

Qi Zhimu was taken aback, his eyes curving into a gentle smile as he nodded slightly.

"Then I'll have to trouble you, little Clarice."

"I'm already 18, I'm not young anymore."

Regardless of whether it's your home planet or this planet, the legal age for marriage in any country...

"hehe……"

Hearing the girl's weak protest, Qi Zhimu couldn't help but chuckle.

Young is so good.

Thinking back to when he was eighteen... um?

My memory suddenly stalled; I couldn't recall any memorable good things that happened that year.

Maybe not.

Or perhaps it's been over a hundred years, and people have grown old and can no longer remember.

Two figures walked under the same umbrella, past plum trees, and finally through the plum grove on the mountaintop.

The rain continued to fall, enveloping them in a hazy, watery hue.

Clarice subtly tilted the umbrella towards Qi Zhimu, completely unaware that her left shoulder had become damp.

"Wait a moment, this plum tree needs its branches pruned."

Qi Zhimu stopped and deftly trimmed away the excess branches.

Clarice quickly raised the umbrella, and as they moved, Qi Zhimu's sleeve brushed against her forehead, bringing a faint fragrance.

Mr. Qi had a fragrance that smelled like herbs, yet also like an unknown flower; it was very pleasant.

The girl suddenly wished that time could be stretched out a little longer.

The rain intensified, and one oil-paper umbrella was no longer enough, so the two had to take shelter under an old plum tree.

Unfortunately, the sparse branches and leaves of the plum tree cannot intertwine to form a natural rain umbrella.

Raindrops leaked through the gaps in the branches, blooming into tiny water droplets on the oil-paper umbrella.

"Are you cold?" Qi Zhimu asked with concern as he took the oil-paper umbrella.

"It's not cold."

Despite saying that, Clarice still subconsciously moved a little closer to him.

The wind carrying Mr. Qi's scent wafted over, and her heart began to race. She tossed her long, light purple hair to hide her burning ears.

The sunset there might have tinged it with rosy hues...

Rainwater gathered into small puddles at their feet, reflecting the two figures side by side.

She secretly took another half step closer and inadvertently touched Qi Zhimu's arm.

Don't be reckless.

Qi Zhimu hesitated for a moment, then stood behind the girl, using his height advantage to block the cool breeze blowing from behind her.

At that moment, heaven knows how much Clarice wanted to lean against him.

"In two months, when the cold winter that Mr. Qi likes arrives, these plum trees will bloom. I will come and help Mr. Qi pick the plum blossoms then."

She blurted it out, then, fearing her meaning was too obvious, quickly added something else.

"And while I'm at it... I'll pick some plum blossoms for myself. I want to make a sachet with them for you, for my mother, and for myself..."

"That's very thoughtful."

Qi Zhimu did not reject the girl's feelings.

Clarice recalled a romantic saying:

If you share an umbrella with your loved one in the rain, the raindrops dripping from the edge of the umbrella will become seeds of memory, blossoming and bearing fruit in the years to come.

But the divination result...

Just as she was lost in thought, she suddenly heard something unexpected.

"Actually... I don't like winter."

"Huh? Why?"

"My vague childhood memories of winter are only of famine, war, rotting corpses, and the fear and nightmares of wandering on the edge of death..."

"So, Mr. Qi went to such lengths because he really loves plum blossoms?"

"I don't know how much he liked it, but I remember that the teacher really liked plum blossoms, and he especially liked drinking plum blossom wine and tasting pastries that were infused with the fragrance of plum blossoms."

"..."

It turns out it was because of that teacher...

Her understanding of the importance of Mr. Qi in her heart deepened considerably.

Feeling a pang of envy, I didn't continue the conversation.

The atmosphere fell silent.

As the rain subsided, the two continued walking through the woods until they reached the last few plum trees.

Qi Zhimu reached out and lifted the drooping branches to make it easier for her to pass.

Watch your step.

He gently reminded her, completely unaware of where the girl's gaze lingered.

Holding up an umbrella and supporting a branch to let someone pass... Mr. Qi's movements were incredibly natural, as if he had repeated them many times before.

Clarice suddenly wanted to ask if anyone had ever held an umbrella for him before.

The thought made her throat tighten; the answer was obvious.

Mostly not.

Despite Mr. Qi's youthful appearance, she always remembered that when she first learned of his existence, the source of the information had been there for over twenty years.

He had already settled here by then.

At the most conservative estimate, Mr. Qi is forty years old.

Who must have held an umbrella for so many years to develop such a natural and skillful subconscious action?

Perhaps... it's still that mysterious teacher whose name has never been mentioned.

He… no, it should be her—who exactly is she?

Based on the fragmented information, Clarice deduced that the teacher was most likely a woman.