Early Spring Journey

Years later. At Shu Garden. “Madam, the young master has disappeared again.” Chu Xia leaned against the silk-covered couch, lazily flipping through a book, not even lifting her head, “Have you looked everywhere?” “Only… only in the pond.” Chu Xia slightly furrowed her brows, “Follow me to check.” The garden was silent, the weather was just right, Chu Xia, in a lotus-colored, cinched waist pleated silk dress, her hair loosely tied, despite having been a mother for years, still looked youthful. A spring breeze ruffled the clear water of the pond, and she suddenly heard the familiar footsteps behind her, turned around, and chided, “Did you teach him some strange martial arts again?” Jun Yean, dressed in light robes, his hair bound with a jade pin, stood behind his wife, tall and elegant, smiling lightly, “Yun’er, show your mother the new skill you’ve learned.” Just then, a small head emerged from the mirror-like water surface, even with a few duckweeds sticking to it. The little boy wiped the water off his face and proudly said, “Mom, I’ve learned the Turtle Breathing Technique.” “Get up! It’s chilly today, be careful not to catch a cold.” Chu Xia extended her hand to help her son up. But the boy, full of pride, pushed off a fake rock and leaped out of the water, splashing water all over his mother. The child was led away by a maid to change clothes. Chu Xia turned to Jun Yean, frowning, “You always teach him such odd things.” “Yun’er has a natural talent in martial arts, surpassing even me—” Jun Yean carefully supported his wife’s waist, his voice full of pride, “Given time, he will be no less than me.” Chu Xia turned her head, looking at the swaying bamboo shadows, and said softly, “I don’t seek for him to excel in martial arts, I just hope he lives a peaceful and joyful life. Then… meet a good girl he loves with all his heart.” “Like me?” Jun Yean looked at his wife, laughing softly. Chu Xia gave a radiant smile, suddenly remembering the lines from the book she was reading, which were from Wang Wei’s “Early Spring”: I often dream of you, returning late, I doubt. Not like the swallows under the red eaves, they nest in the green grass. —The End—