"That's fine."Margaret patted her shoulder, "You relax first, I'll go downstairs to heat up the pie, meet me in the kitchen in five minutes."
Shen Rihui nodded and watched her back as she slowly walked down the stairs until the piano resumed, and the piece of Moonlight seemed to flow back through the doorway and into her heart.
She sat on the edge of the bed, the branches and leaves of the oak tree outside the window gently swayed, a sparrow fluttered by and stopped at the edge of the window.She took off her coat, removed her scarf, and laid her painting kit on the rug.The sunlight poured in through the sash window and shone on the sketchbook in her hand, and she was suddenly tempted to draw something-not the laurel tree or the street scene, but Margaret, who had just stood in the doorway.
She had a hunch that this house, this town, this quiet day, would leave a long mark on her life.
Just like the section of the piano where the doorbell rings, not noisy, not rushed, but always there, waiting for you to come home.
Shen Rikui took out her pencil and sketchbook and ambled over to the desk by the window.She drew quickly, not in pursuit of any technical refinement, but a sudden state of mind, like being pulled by the aftermath of a doorbell, needing to leave some traces on the paper.
Margaret's silhouette was extraordinary.Her face had softened over the years, and there was no deliberate smile between her brows, but she always seemed to be listening to someone's heart.Shen Rikui gently swept out on the drawing paper the gray hair on her forehead, the round-framed glasses on the bridge of her nose, and the movement of her holding the doorknob and slightly bending down to greet her.
By the time she finished drawing a sketch, the sunset in the sky was fading a little.The only thing left in the room was the shadows of the trees swaying slightly on the wall, like time was slowing down as well.
"Ms. Shen, the pie is ready."Margaret's voice came from downstairs, like cotton candy gently landing in the air.
Shen Riqui answered and changed into a pair of soft slippers and went downstairs.The kitchen was in a corner of the house against the north, the warmest place in the whole Oak Court.The old-fashioned gas stove was still bubbling with a faint light, and there was a freshly cut pumpkin pie on the table, the aroma of which was mixed with cinnamon and honey permeating the entire room.The windows were open, and outside you could still hear the birds twittering in the trees.
Margaret poured her a cup of hot milk, and took out her home-made jam from the closet: "Try this, my daughter brought back blueberries from the mountains, I boiled it for two days before it was ready."
Shen Riqiu sat down, took the porcelain plate, bit down on a bite of pumpkin pie, the fragrant soft flavor immediately bloomed on her tongue.She suddenly felt like she hadn't had such a quiet and gentle flavor in a long time.
"Thank you, Margaret."She said softly.
"That's what everyone who comes says."Margaret smiled, "My house, ah, specializes in souls who are tired of walking."
"I am."Shen Rihui bowed her head and replied in a small voice, "A little tired."
"Then you came just in time."Margaret looked at her with eyes like the momentary tenderness in her painting, "You'll get better slowly.Slowly, like a flower that grows in wet soil after the rain stops."
Shen Rihui didn't say anything else, just silently took a sip of the hot milk and felt the warmth spreading along her throat, all the way to her heart.
That night, she slept extraordinarily deeply in her room.
The oak tree outside the window swayed gently in the night breeze, and there was moonlight spilling in, laying on the wooden floor like a silver stream.Her sketchbook was spread out on the table, and Margaret's portrait lay there quietly, like a gentle night watchman.
She wrote in her diary, "Once upon a time I wondered why my psychiatrist was always so calm, why her eyes were always as clear as pebbles polished with the clearest stream.Now I've come to her hometown to find the answer, where life is as beautiful as a dream or a painting.On the same day, reap two fortunes, the first a hot drink that needs no explanation, the first the life I most desired but could hardly touch."
In her dream, she was back at that door, the moonlight shining on her umbrella, and the doorbell rang with the familiar song "Moonlight".
The door opened and Margaret stood inside, smiling at her and saying, "Welcome back."
And at that moment, she knew that she had truly arrived at a place where she could safely stay for a long time.