Chapter 12: Good Clouds Do Not Change the Pine's Nature; Parting Brings the Deepest Sorrow

Page 1/3

Guan Yin was again staring absentmindedly at the inkstone. Ever since the day she realized she could only be a hindrance and not offer any help, she hadn’t proactively mentioned wanting to accompany Liu Jiao’an to the tea garden. Naturally, the latter never insisted.

Once things quieted down, Guan Yin began sifting through the writings left behind by her original self, hoping to find letters or something that might shed light on her true background—to avoid the daily anxiety of fearing her identity might be exposed.

“San Heng, hasn’t Madam returned yet?” Rubbing her sore neck, Guan Yin looked up just in time to see San Heng entering.

“Is your husband awake?”

Hearing San Heng ask this, Guan Yin found it only natural. After all, she had been sleeping late these past few days—sometimes past noon, even taking short naps afterward. Since waking up, San Heng had never entered the room, so it made sense he didn’t know she was awake. Guan Yin nodded. “Yes, I got up a bit earlier today.”

When the social relationships recorded in history books become reality around you, it’s impossible to accept them so straightforwardly. Fortunately, San Heng didn’t seem to wear a submissive, servile mask, which made it easier for Guan Yin to pretend without feeling so uncomfortable.

Yet... having sensed the genuine emotions of those around her, Guan Yin found it difficult to maintain the detached coldness she had at first.

“Madam went out earlier. There’s no need to worry, Sir. Madam always knows how to take good care of herself.”

“Mm, you should also rest well.” San Heng was quite young—likely only the age of a high school student—and Guan Yin’s gaze carried the tenderness of an elder looking at a younger one.

San Heng sensed that her master’s mood was unusual but couldn’t quite pinpoint what was different. While answering, he also pondered whether to ask if there was anything he could do for his master.

Coming back to herself, Guan Yin realized she was no longer San Heng’s intern history teacher. Casting a hesitant, guilty glance back at the large stack of papers before her, she said, “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“Squeak… squeak!”

“Clatter clatter… thud!”

Outside the door, the sound of San Heng chopping firewood resumed, and Guan Yin finally snapped back to reality—just moments before, she had briefly drifted back to the classroom. She hoped San Heng hadn’t noticed her distraction.

There were many mischievous students at school, some taking advantage of parents hiring tutors but not paying attention in class, and others clever but uninterested in studying.

Page 2/3

When Guan Yin first arrived at the class, she was driven to tears once. A group of students wrote apology letters, slipped her small candies, and tried various ways to coax her back... only to cause trouble again soon after.

So, not long into her internship, Guan Yin went straight to the hospital. The doctor prescribed several boxes of remedies—chest-opening and spirit-soothing pills—yet Guan Yin still couldn’t bring herself to heed the online advice to “respect others’ fate.”

“Teaching is easy; nurturing is hard... They say it takes ten years to grow trees, but a hundred years to cultivate people. To pull someone out from their family environment, only the teacher and society can do so.”

“So no matter how bitter or difficult, you have to give it a try.”

Her mentor’s words, her family’s expectations—Guan Yin persevered. But who could have imagined that dawn had already broken upon her, yet she inexplicably found herself in a small courtyard at the foot of Huangshan Mountain?

Her brow twitched again, along with the outer edge of her right eyebrow, twitching incessantly.

Guan Yin tore a small corner off the rice paper in front of her, dipped it in some tea, and placed it on the twitching eyelid. After a while, it seemed to ease somewhat. “I’ve clearly been sleeping plenty these past few days.”

“Ah, twitching left eye means disaster, twitching right eye means wealth.”

As if deliberately opposing her, the left eyelid began twitching as well.

This time, Guan Yin gave up on the paper, wiping it off her right eyelid. “No superstitions! Now, go to sleep!”

Folding her arms, she rested her head on the desk as if trying to nap in class. It used to be the easiest position to fall asleep in... Yet no trace of drowsiness came.

She rested first on her left arm, then switched to her right, then propped her chin up to stare out the window, but no matter what, she couldn’t fall asleep.

The clear sky outside was too alluring, and since she wasn’t actually lacking sleep, forcing it wouldn’t work. She decided to go outside to find some distraction—to disturb the busy San Heng.

“I’ll help…”

Before Guan Yin could finish, San Heng slightly turned aside, blocking the axe in his hand. “Be careful, Sir. This axe is very sharp. San Heng just sharpened it.”

San Heng seemed to know that her help might be more trouble than aid. Guan Yin felt a little weary.

The mountain was draped in mist, smoke from cooking curled into the clouds, and the scent of wood and rice drifted in from unknown homes. San Heng ignored Guan Yin standing alone, continuing to chop firewood.

Page 3/3

Passing by the still vacant Guan Yin, San Heng carried a large bundle of firewood into the kitchen, kindled the fire, and smoke spiraled upward.

From the various plumes of smoke—some visible at their source, others fading into the distance—one could roughly gauge how many people lived in each household.

“San Heng... you think…”

As Guan Yin pondered and stretched out her words, before she could call to the busy San Heng, a stranger suddenly hurried up from outside the fence, panting heavily, shouting at her.

“Bad news! Your family—your Madam—is in trouble at the market, at the market!”

“Hey, where’s San Heng? You…”

“Let me in! I need to find San Heng.” The stranger seemed to know San Heng better and looked unfamiliar with Guan Yin. Before she could react, the stranger pushed past her, yelling, “San Heng? San Heng!”

“San Heng! Your Madam is surrounded by a group at the market... I think they know her; it doesn’t look like they want to harm her, just take her away. You need to go check!”

Hearing the calls, San Heng rushed out and, in the blink of an eye, was pulling the stranger along toward the main road. “Don’t rush. Tell me what happened.”

“I’ll follow you!” Guan Yin’s clothes were snagged on the fence, but she still did her best to keep up with the two running ahead. Anyone who came looking for Liu Jiao’an would most likely be from the Liu family.

Whether to clarify her original self’s identity or to rescue Liu Jiao’an, she clearly had to deal with the Liu family. Or perhaps, without her original self around, Liu Jiao’an might as well return early to the Liu household with Guan Yin in tow—a lone young woman would find at least some support there.

“Sir, if you go, things will only get more chaotic.”

Fearing that Guan Yin might make matters worse or unknowingly do something foolish, San Heng stopped and returned to the door. “Don’t worry, Sir. I will definitely bring Madam back.”

The smoke from cooking rose like white silk, the pines remained evergreen. Guan Yin stood in the courtyard, a face full of worry, yet unable to help. Mountains piled on mountains, each one more difficult to cross than the last.