Li Yuan walked down the hill with a different stride than when he had climbed it this morning. It wasn't faster or slower, but there was something in the way he moved that had changed—like someone who had found the answer to a question he hadn't realized he was asking.
The sun had risen higher, warming the morning air with a gentleness that made the dew on the grass blades sparkle like tiny diamonds that would soon disappear. In the distance, Millbrook village was beginning to show more bustling activity—more smoke curled from the chimneys, the faint sounds of conversations and daily chores began to be carried on the wind.
When Li Yuan reached the main village road, he saw several residents who had already started their day. A middle-aged man was feeding chickens in his yard. A young woman was hanging out wet laundry. Children were running around with the cheerfulness possessed only by those not yet burdened by the complexities of the adult world.
A simple life, Li Yuan reflected. Yet in that simplicity, there is a fullness often lacking in those who pursue complicated things.
"Yuan!"
A familiar voice called his name. Li Yuan turned and saw Lila running toward him with a wide smile on her face. The little girl was wearing a simple light blue dress, her blond hair neatly braided, and in her hand, she carried a small basket filled with wild flowers.
"Good morning, Lila," Li Yuan greeted her with a genuine smile. "You're up so early."
"Mama says the most beautiful flowers are picked when there's still dew on them," Lila answered with the small pride of a child who remembers her mother's advice. "Where were you? I went to the Miller Inn just now, but Sarah said you had gone out early."
"I went to see the old tree on the southern hill," Li Yuan replied.
Lila's eyes immediately lit up. "That big tree! I love going there! It feels so peaceful and... and it's like the tree listens to everything I'm thinking without me even having to say anything."
The innocence in how Lila described her experience made something in Li Yuan's Zhenjing tremble with tenderness. This little girl, without any understanding of cultivation or spiritual resonance, had captured the essence of what he had felt under that oak tree.
"That's exactly what I felt too," Li Yuan said sincerely.
"Really?" Lila seemed so happy to hear that an adult shared the same feeling. "Mama sometimes says I'm too imaginative when I talk about that tree."
Li Yuan knelt down so his eyes were level with Lila's. "Imaginative doesn't always mean it's not real, Lila. Sometimes, children can feel things that adults have forgotten how to feel."
Lila's face lit up with that validation. "Do you want to see the flowers I picked? I want to take them to Mama to put in a vase on the dining table."
"Of course," Li Yuan answered.
Lila carefully opened her basket, showing off a collection of wild flowers chosen with a child's eye—not perfect by adult standards, but full of cheerfulness and color. There were small white daisies, some yellow flowers whose names Li Yuan didn't know, and a fragile little blue flower.
"The blue one was the hardest to find," Lila said proudly. "But I thought Mama would like it because it's the same color as my eyes."
Li Yuan looked at the flowers—simple, wild, imperfect, yet chosen with love and pride. There was something about this moment that reminded him of the essence of what was truly important in life.
"Your mother will be very happy," Li Yuan said. "Flowers chosen with love are always more beautiful than those chosen with only the eyes."
"Do you want to come to our house? Mama is baking bread for lunch," Lila offered with the innocence of a child who hasn't learned that not everyone always has time.
Li Yuan considered the offer. He could return to the inn, or wander around the village to get to know more residents, or even go back to the tree for further meditation. But there was something about a child's simple invitation that made all other options feel... insignificant.
"I would love to," Li Yuan replied.
They walked together toward the small house where Li Yuan had first experienced hospitality in this village. Lila chattered happily about the small things that mattered in a child's world—about the cat that liked to sleep in the sun, about the birds that nested on the barn roof, about her plan to make a small garden behind the house.
Li Yuan listened with full attention, not because the topics were objectively interesting, but because there was beauty in a child's way of seeing the world—with wonder, with cheerfulness, with the belief that every day holds the possibility of a small adventure.
When they arrived at the house, Anna was in the kitchen with a flour-dusted apron, her face slightly flushed from the heat of the oven. The aroma of freshly baked bread wafted throughout the house, creating a warmth not only in the nose but also in the heart.
"Mama, look! Yuan wants to have some bread with us!" Lila exclaimed, showing off her basket of flowers.
Anna turned with a smile that immediately bloomed when she saw Li Yuan. "Yuan! I'm so glad you decided to visit again. And Lila, your flowers are beautiful, sweetie."
"I chose this blue one especially for you, Mama," Lila said proudly.
Anna took the basket with the gentleness of a mother who understands that the most valuable gifts are those given with love, not with price. "Perfect. I'll put them in the crystal vase we use for special days."
"Is today special?" Lila asked.
"Of course," Anna replied, glancing at Li Yuan with sparkling eyes. "We have a kind guest."
Li Yuan felt the warmth of this simple interaction—the way Anna valued her daughter's small effort, the way she made an ordinary moment special, the way love flowed in small actions that didn't need big words.
"Is there anything I can help with?" Li Yuan asked.
"Oh, no need," Anna answered, taking the bread out of the oven. "But if you don't mind, could you help Lila arrange the flowers in the vase? I have to finish this bread before it burns."
Li Yuan and Lila worked together arranging the wild flowers in the small crystal vase—Li Yuan gave advice on color composition while Lila decided the final placement with the authority of a small artist. There was nothing complicated about the activity, yet there was peace in the simple collaboration between an adult and a child.
"It's perfect," Anna said when they showed her their work. "Our dining table is beautiful."
They sat together at the table, now decorated with wild flowers, sharing warm bread with butter and honey. The conversation flowed naturally—Anna asked about Li Yuan's impressions of the village, Lila talked about her plans to play with her friends in the afternoon, and Li Yuan contributed small observations about the beauty he had found in the daily life of Millbrook.
There was nothing philosophically profound, no discussion about cosmic understanding or spiritual resonance. Just a simple human warmth, yet in that simplicity, Li Yuan found something he had long forgotten.
Happiness that does not require achievement.
Happiness born not from mastering or understanding something complex, but from sharing simple moments with people who care. From listening to a child's laughter, from feeling the warmth of freshly baked bread, from seeing a mother's smile when her daughter is happy.
Perhaps, Li Yuan said to himself while listening to Lila talk about her dream of becoming a florist when she grows up, this is also a form of understanding. An understanding of what it means to be human in the simplest and purest way.