Haicheng — Bihui Study by the Water.
A corridor lined with flowers, and the soft murmuring of flowing water.
Accompanied by the gentle chime of wind bells, Jiang Li lifted the curtain and stepped into the tea room.
"Apologies for the wait, Mr. Xie."
Just moments ago, she had been in the backyard, boiling herbs used in the restoration of ancient books.
When Xie Huaichu had arrived, she'd asked him to wait in the tea room.
"No matter," Xie Huaichu replied in a low voice, placing a kraft paper envelope in front of her.
Jiang Li opened the envelope and carefully pulled out the contents.
It was an ancient text — more precisely, an old medical manuscript.
Time had left its mark: the pages yellowed and brittle with age. Poor storage had caused the pages to stick together, many torn and damaged.
As a professional restorer of ancient books, her task was to bring it back to life.
After studying it for a while, Jiang Li looked up at the man across from her, lips lifting in a soft smile.
"It's not too bad. Leave it to me."
"Though restoring a book like this can't be rushed — I hope Mr. Xie understands."
"Mm." Xie Huaichu nodded. "If there's nothing else, I'll take my leave."
With that, he rose, nodded politely to her once more, and left the tea room.
Jiang Li spaced out for a moment before hurriedly getting up to follow him. "Mr. Xie, please wait a moment."
Hearing her, Xie Huaichu paused mid-step, turning his head to look at her, silently waiting for what she had to say.
Jiang Li caught her breath, then pulled out her phone from her pocket, speaking tentatively.
"Would it be alright… if I took a photo?"
"Hm?" Xie Huaichu didn't quite understand her request.
First meeting and already asking to take a picture with a stranger? Was this girl always this bold?
"It's just that I—" Jiang Li began to explain, when a ringtone interrupted.
"Excuse me, I need to take this call," Xie Huaichu said.
"Of course."
He took out his phone and answered.
Jiang Li's gaze never left his hand.
Dear god, who could possibly resist those hands?
Long, slender fingers, well-defined joints, pale pink fingertips.
To a top-tier hand enthusiast like her, this was pure, fatal temptation.
She had noticed his "manga-perfect" hands back in the tea room — that was what compelled her to follow him out and ask for a photo as a keepsake.
Xie Huaichu didn't speak much during the call. When he hung up and glanced up, he caught Jiang Li staring straight at him.
Her gaze — intense, undisguised — made him visibly uncomfortable.
"Miss Jiang, have you seen enough?"
His voice was cool as he pushed up the silver-rimmed glasses on his nose.
A chill glinted in his eyes, the atmosphere around him clearly dropping a few degrees.
"…Not yet," Jiang Li blurted out before she could stop herself, utterly bewitched by his hands.
By the time she realized what she'd said, she wanted to vanish into thin air. "Mr. Xie, please don't misunderstand, I didn't mean it like that—"
"Miss Jiang, it's hard not to misunderstand, given your behavior," Xie Huaichu said coldly, his expression distant and sharp.
"No, really, let me explain, I—"
"Miss Jiang, it's better for a young lady to show some restraint."
"I still have matters to attend to. Goodbye."
Without giving her another chance to speak, Xie Huaichu turned and left without looking back.
Jiang Li sighed in frustration as she watched his figure disappear past the courtyard gate.
"Seriously? I was being restrained…"
"He didn't even let me finish talking — how rude."
But those hands... they really did slay her.
She cast one last longing glance at the now-empty gate before turning and heading back into the tea room, thoroughly deflated.
Later that afternoon, a light rain fell. After the rain passed, a rainbow appeared in the sky.
The air was filled with the fresh, sweet scent unique to after-rain moments.
Inside the studio.
Jiang Li had changed into a pale yellow cheongsam.
A simple, traditional cut that made her look all the more gentle and serene.
Her long black hair was loosely tied up, secured with a plum blossom hairpin.
A few stray wisps framed her face, adding a playful charm.
In front of her on the desk sat the ancient book Xie Huaichu had brought earlier.
It had already been steamed to soften the pages; the next step was to carefully separate them one by one.
She sat in an old-fashioned nanmu armchair, ready to begin.
Her slender hands lifted the medical text from the sealed pouch.
She then picked up a thin bamboo spatula and began separating the pages, one careful inch at a time.
The book had undergone severe acidification and bore many tears and damages.
So during the separation process, Jiang Li exercised the utmost caution — more careful than careful.
Even her breathing had become tense and shallow.
At last, she managed to peel off a single page.
She exhaled slowly and placed the sheet on the clean paper she had prepared nearby.
Then, picking up a soft brush, she dabbed on a thin layer of alkaline water to neutralize the acidity of the paper.
Next, she rolled a damp towel — like a miniature rolling pin — gently across the page.
This not only rinsed off the alkaline solution but also helped flatten the sheet even further.
Then came the restoration of the damaged sections.
She first soaked the base paper beneath.
Then, she carefully pressed the removed page onto it, allowing it to adhere naturally.
Next, using a small bamboo tool, she shaved down the ragged edges of the tears and removed loose fibers.
With a calligraphy brush, she dabbed a specially diluted starch paste over the damaged areas.
The paste, made with alum, was both gentle and durable.
Once the paste was applied, she placed the matching repair paper over it.
She trimmed and adjusted the patch, slowly and meticulously, to follow the contour of each tear.
For areas with creases, she reinforced them with an additional paper layer.
Then came the coloring — using pigments brewed from medicinal herbs, she gently toned the restored parts to blend with the original.
If any text was missing, she would use a fine brush to replicate each stroke, restoring the script character by character.
This was only the first page — and it had taken over an hour to complete.
Satisfied with the result, Jiang Li curved her lips into a gentle smile.
She placed the finished page on a second desk to let it air-dry naturally.
Then she returned to begin the delicate separation of the second sheet.
Restoring ancient books required immense patience and perseverance.
Back when she chose this career, it hadn't been for the money.
She had wanted something that could temper her heart.
After all, the person she used to be…
Jiang Li shook her head, as if to cast those old, unpleasant memories aside, and threw herself once more into her work.
An entire afternoon passed, and she had only managed to restore a few pages.
The golden light of the setting sun spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows,
Coating the pale, cool flooring with a warm, golden veil.
Jiang Li carefully stored away the ancient book, setting it beside the desk, then began tidying up her tools, one by one.
Only then did she raise her hand to rub her aching shoulder and stand to head toward the backyard kitchen.
Bihui Study by the Water was a small, standalone courtyard home.
The front yard housed the tea room and her studio. The rear contained the kitchen, living room, and bedrooms.
There were two bedrooms — one for her, one for her grandmother.
She had purchased the place for its unique layout.
More importantly, the area was peaceful and removed from the city's noise.
It was ideal — a haven for restoring ancient books, and a tranquil place for her grandmother's retirement.
The neighbors nearby were warm and kind.
Each evening, they would light a small lantern and hang it outside their doors —
As if to light the way home for loved ones still journeying — a comforting touch of life and warmth.
Jiang Li stepped into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and sighed as she saw the lone cup of instant noodles inside.
She pressed her fingers to her temple in resignation.
Lately, she had been so focused on her restoration work, she had completely neglected her own meals.
It was clear: a grocery run was now absolutely necessary.
Otherwise, even the landlord's house would run out of food.
Fortunately, her grandmother was away for a few days on a senior tour group trip.
If she'd been home, she would've given her an earful already.
Jiang Li threw on a light jacket and headed to the garage, where her little mini Jeep waited.
Just as she was about to drive out through the gate, she called out toward a corner of the courtyard:
"Mango, come on."