booktalesy Chapter 38 Alfalfa
Chapter 38 Alfalfa
Alfalfa, also known as clover.
It's not a rare or precious variety; you can often see it growing among the roadside weeds.
It is not as graceful and noble as the peony, nor as passionate and affectionate as the rose, nor as pure and elegant as the lily...
It's actually just a small purple flower that grows in fields and along roadsides.
When you pass by, you won't even give it a second glance.
But Xiuqi's mother liked it very much.
Around this time of year, the area around the Shire estate is bathed in a vast expanse of purple—
That's the color of alfalfa blossoms.
Every day around the time when afternoon and evening meet, the woman would lean against the porch, a serene smile on her face, waiting quietly.
The early summer breeze gently caressed the tranquil manor, softly lifting the woman's long golden hair and rustling the purple petals and three leaves of the alfalfa, as if afraid to disturb the world.
This was also Xiuqi's happiest moment.
After school in the county town, he would ride his chestnut pony through the gradually bustling central street and past the towering city gate.
He walked through the fields, facing the golden waves of wheat that seemed to nod to him.
When they reached the estate, he would dismount and lead his chestnut horse slowly back home.
He was greeted by a serene figure in a white floral dress, and the smile on her face could instantly wash away the day's fatigue.
The chestnut horse would linger nearby, leisurely grazing on the purple clover until it was full before returning to the stable.
I forgot to mention that alfalfa is also an excellent forage crop, loved by warhorses, packhorses, and traveling horses alike.
He had heard the old butler mention that the manor was originally surrounded by purple roses, but ever since the family started keeping horses,
The mother then personally sowed the alfalfa seeds.
......
......
The wind blew through the woods, carrying a faint, distant song.
The melody at this moment carries a captivating sweetness, as if it were sung just for him.
Xiu Qi didn't look at the captain again. He was very careful with his strength. The other man was only knocked unconscious by the heavy blow to the head with the hilt of his sword.
He was neither a compassionate believer nor a benevolent law-abiding citizen.
His sword was originally intended to slice into a part of the opponent's body, such as the neck or heart...
In the end, Xiuqi changed his mind.
He himself didn't understand why.
Perhaps, in that split second, before his eyes, that misty, illusory figure—
A pale-faced, youthful figure.
He turned around and gazed quietly at that serene face with a smile.
Her smile remained gentle, her floral dress fluttered softly in the night breeze, and the golden tips of her hair shimmered with a soft glow under the moonlight.
It was as if he had unlocked a memory that had been sealed deep within his heart, and now everything was just as beautiful and intoxicating as he remembered.
Whether it was the swaying long dress or the fluttering golden hair, everything was exactly the same as in my memory, without the slightest difference.
call--
A wisp of gas shot out from his mouth, turning into a cloud of white mist the instant it touched the air, slowly dissipating in the silent night sky.
His eyes were like a clear, bottomless stream, yet they couldn't reflect the silhouette of the white floral dress in front of him.
He forced a smile, like the boy walking home from school years ago, and slowly...
Take it one step at a time...
She stretched out her hands, palms up, as if welcoming him back.
"Child," her voice was gentle, carrying the warmth of the afternoon sun at the Shire Manor, "come to my side."
Xiuqi slowly took a step forward.
The damp air from the forest filled my nostrils, carrying the scents of decaying leaves and earth, along with a faint, sweet aroma—
That's the scent of alfalfa blossoms.
His feet rustled softly as they stepped on the fallen leaves and weeds.
The hem of the gray robe gently brushed against the grass, causing glistening dewdrops to splash.
The "Bavarian Moonlight" sword was still sheathed at his waist, yet it seemed particularly restless under the moonlight, its cool glow seemingly reflecting the moonlight itself.
A faint glint of cold light emanated from the sword sheath, illuminating a short stretch of road in front of him.
A scorching heat emanated from the newly enhanced purple card on his chest, searing his chest.
Xiu Qi seemed oblivious, a pure smile on his face, as he walked forward step by step.
The melodious and gentle singing grew closer, then began to sound mournful and poignant, as if it were weeping, or perhaps expressing endless loneliness and waiting.
The surrounding gray fog was as thick as an unyielding ink, swallowing all the light and leaving only a viscous, chaotic flow.
Taking another step forward, the singing became even clearer.
It was a folk song he often heard in his childhood, about a brave knight in the far east who rescued a princess from a dragon's mouth by wielding a long sword that shimmered with light.
It's a clichéd, old story, but that doesn't stop this folk song from being widely sung.
Before Xiuqi grew taller than the porch railing, she often sang this old lullaby to lull him to sleep.
But at this moment, as the gray fog slowly dissipated, he finally saw the singer who had been chanting in the forest—
It's her.
The blonde woman sat quietly on a tree stump by the path, her arms hanging down in front of her knees, watching the long, serpentine procession of refugees, her slightly parted lips humming a moving song...
An ancient sage once said, how do we define the difference between illusion and reality?
It is not what the eyes see, nor what the ears hear, nor what the fingertips feel for temperature.
Because when you yearn for something, everything will weave a realistic lie just as you imagine it to be—
I'm deceiving you.
He walked up to her and stopped three steps away.
The gray mist flowed silently between him and her.
He recalled a sunny afternoon when the summer breeze was gentle and caressing; he was covered in sweat after practicing his longsword.
The woman was sitting on the short chair in front of the porch, holding a bowl of icy thorn pudding in her hands, quietly waiting for him.
The distance was very close, close enough to see the fine lines at the corners of her eyes and to smell the faint, sweet fragrance emanating from her.
Xiuqi remained silent.
He simply gazed at the woman before him, his eyes sweeping over her body inch by inch, from her gentle brows and eyes to her smiling lips, as if he wanted to etch this beautiful moment deep into his heart.
In reality, who can't distinguish between illusion and reality?
They just don't want to distinguish between them.
The answer is simple—
Things that are too beautiful are often illusions.
He mocked himself inwardly.
His steps did not falter; his expression was as devout as that of an ascetic, with no trace of impurity in his eyes.
The boy slowly walked up to her, bent down and took her hands, which were hanging down in front of her knees, gently lifting those tender palms, and then—
He buried his forehead deeply between her knees.
Just like that bright afternoon many years ago, sunlight streamed through the porch, and the sweet scent of alfalfa lingered in the air...
From a distance, however, the posture resembles that of a prisoner kneeling before the guillotine.
Neck bowed, silently waiting for the guillotine to fall.