[Remaining Lifespan: 7 days 1 hour 23 minutes 07 seconds]
Qi Zhimu glanced at the system interface. His expression didn't change. He smiled at the girl jogging toward him.
She always loved purple.
A fitted purple wool coat hung open, revealing a beige turtleneck sweater beneath.
Below the skirt, black stockings caught the winter morning light in a soft matte sheen.
Warm boots hugged her calves just right, tracing smooth, slender lines.
Her scarf looped twice around her neck, the loose end draping behind her waist.
From the front, her waist looked even slimmer—almost delicate enough to hold with one hand.
"Good morning, Mr. Qi~~!"
"Morning. That outfit suits you."
"Really? Is there anything you think I could improve?" Her eyes sparkled.
"I don't know much about fashion. But you look great as you are—very fitting for your temperament."
At his praise, her brows curved; a sweet smile bloomed.
"…Mr. Qi, you're wearing so little. Aren't you cold?"
Simple thermal clothes and a short windbreaker—ordinary to the point of vanishing into a crowd.
Yet his overly striking face somehow made even that look eye-catching.
People said clothes made the person, but to Clarisse, it was the opposite with him.
Even the plainest clothing looked special on him.
"Not cold. I'm used to it. Let's go." Qi Zhimu turned toward the back mountain.
Plum blossoms had begun blooming recently. After observing them, he'd concluded these few days were best for picking.
At the foot of the mountain, the steps were coated in fresh snow.
"It snowed hard last night. Of course it's like this."
Qi Zhimu took a snow broom from his folded space.
"Leave the heavy lifting to me. Mr. Qi, you focus on picking the blossoms." Clarisse took the broom.
"…Alright."
The snow wasn't too deep. Qi Zhimu didn't refuse her kindness.
The stone steps wound upward, snow-covered, with red and white plum blossoms interwoven on both sides.
White branches held ice crystals; red blossoms glowed a deep, dark crimson through the snow gaps.
When the wind passed, fine snow sifted down.
A few petals drifted in, brushing Clarisse's cheek and leaving a cold strand of fragrance.
She looked toward the peak. The ridge line rose and fell gently under snow—beautiful as a painting.
Everything wore a thin frost. The mountain was so quiet that only the soft rustle of Qi Zhimu's bamboo knife cutting blossoms could be heard.
Clarisse cleared snow faster than expected. After she moved twenty-odd steps ahead, her body warmed from exertion and she exhaled lightly.
Looking back, she saw Qi Zhimu focused intently—selecting the tenderest dozen blossoms from each tree, his movements meticulous.
When people are focused, time slips away unnoticed.
Before she realized it, Clarisse reached the summit first.
She brushed snow from her shoulders. The instant her view opened up, she couldn't help holding her breath.
The wind suddenly changed direction, sweeping through the plum forest.
Clusters of snow fell from branches with muted thuds, layered with the low friction of wood.
The air—its bitter coldness crushed and scattered by the wind—mixed with the scent of frozen soil.
Petals swirled on the current. Branches trembled, and red and white wove into a rolling sea of blossoms.
When Clarisse finally exhaled, she missed that bitter chill and instead caught a richer plum fragrance.
Her face fell into quiet intoxication.
"Mr. Qi, hurry up! The plum blossoms are so beautiful!"
Huh?
The moment she spoke, her expression stiffened.
Not far away stood an ancient plum tree, its roots bulging through the snow, biting tightly into a rock crevice.
And before it—
Two faint phantom figures stood.
One silhouette was intellectual and elegant; even from the back, she was clearly a graceful beauty.
Beside her stood a boy—not even reaching her shoulder.
So familiar…
It was Mr. Qi as a child.
Then this elegant woman must be his teacher.
At that moment, more phantom images appeared among nearby trees.
The young Qi Zhimu carried a bamboo basket, receiving blossoms his teacher picked and placing them carefully inside.
Later, the boy had grown a little taller.
With his left hand he held an oil-paper umbrella over his teacher; with his right he lifted a plum branch, letting her pass first.
Later still, the boy was taller than his teacher—
But her figure no longer stood beside him.
From his movements, it was clear: he was alone, bending over to plant new plum saplings.
So this plum forest… in the beginning, it had only been those few old trees…
"Girl? Girl?"
"…Ah?!" Clarisse jolted back to reality, and realized Qi Zhimu had already reached her side.
"Is there something wrong with those trees? Why are you staring so intently?" he asked warmly.
"…The scenery here is so beautiful. I got carried away."
She looked again—those phantoms were gone, as if they'd never existed.
But she knew it wasn't an illusion.
From Mr. Qi's reaction, it was obvious he couldn't see them.
Why could she see them when he couldn't? Clarisse couldn't understand.
"No need to clear snow here. I'll help pick blossoms too—and gather some for making a sachet."
"Making a sachet—do you know what kind of plum blossoms are best?" he asked.
"…Is it like brewing—different stages of blossoms matter?" Clarisse said.
"Exactly."
Her question told Qi Zhimu she hadn't studied sachet-making carefully.
Or rather, she didn't know how to use plum blossoms for it.
"For sachets, unopened buds are best. The fragrance is stronger and lasts longer."
"Half-open blossoms are also good. By then, the aromatic compounds have partly released, but the flower is still intact. Do you know why we came at dawn?"
"I don't," Clarisse admitted.
"Because before sunrise, humidity is higher. The blossoms are more hydrated and their fragrance is richest, preserving scent and quality as much as possible."
Qi Zhimu explained patiently.
"Choose flowers that are intact—no disease, no pests, no damage—to ensure the sachet's quality and aroma."
"Also avoid windy or rainy days. Wind and rain scatter the scent."
"Today isn't ideal, strictly speaking. The wind is a bit strong. But there haven't been any clear windless days lately, so we have to settle."
"After the Great Cold, we might see clear skies… but unfortunately…"
…He wouldn't live to see that day.
....
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