Chapter 83: The Wanderer's Path Home

Hai Lanjing’s words left Lin Shenlu feeling a bit awkward, but Hai Lanjing only smiled.

“That’s just it—you, I can’t quite see through you, and the more I try, the less I understand. So, I’ve decided not to overthink it… Today, I’m coming to you simply as a friend to talk about the inn. If it were you, how would you open an inn here—one that’s both soulful and unique?” Hai Lanjing gently swept her hair aside, gazing at Lin Shenlu with deep, searching eyes.

Lin Shenlu lowered his head slightly, tracing circles on his forefinger with his thumb.

He chose silence in response to Hai Lanjing’s words.

Perhaps he really was overthinking things.

If he could only think about this from a friend’s perspective...

Lin Shenlu did, in fact, have the most authority to speak on the matter.

He had deep feelings about the beauty of Lishui.

Whether as a photographer or a painter—though those were hobbies of the past—Lishui’s rich local culture and scenery had truly drawn him in.

If it were him...

If he had such an opportunity in Lishui, what would he do...?

In truth, Lin Shenlu felt conflicted.

He didn’t believe that someone like Hai Lanjing, who had run hotels for so many years, would be at a loss about where to open an inn in Lishui.

The reason for seeking him out could only be to spend more time together...

But now, judging from Hai Lanjing’s words, that didn’t seem to be the case.

Lin Shenlu lightly touched his forehead.

Forget it, he thought. No need to dwell on this. He’d treat it as a chance to leave a piece of himself here in Lishui.

“Give me one night,” he said, nodding. “I’ll think carefully about how to plan it, and tomorrow I’ll give you an answer.”

…

Night had deepened.

Lin Shenlu returned to his room.

Hai Lanjing was still sitting outside the window, as if she were in her dreamlike haven in Dali.

She liked to sit alone, quietly gazing at the sky and the stars.

The night sky in Lishui was stunning.

In a village without neon lights, with only tranquil evenings, the stars were always clear and pure.

The light in Lin Shenlu’s room was still on.

Looking through the window, Hai Lanjing could see him sitting by the computer, brow furrowed, fingers tapping out words on the keyboard.

Hai Lanjing smiled softly.

All I want is for you to be a part of this inn in Lishui.

That way, you’ll truly feel emotionally connected to it.

Only then will this place become your home.

I’ve always said, wherever you go, Lin Shenlu, I’ll open an inn.

So that you, who love to wander, will always know the way home, no matter where you are...

…

Lin Shenlu’s hands moved over the keyboard, tapping, deleting, and rewriting.

Soulfulness wasn’t so easily conjured. Inspiration couldn’t be forced.

At the very least, if his own heart wasn’t moved, he couldn’t write a single word that satisfied him.

He spent an hour in the study, then sighed and opened a blank document.

Since he had the time, he might as well start writing a blog post about Lishui.

He had been here for days already.

Next month, he still owed an article to Lonely Planet.

Just because his last piece on Dali had passed their review didn’t mean this one on Lishui would too.

Best to get the opening down first.

Perhaps, in the process, inspiration for Hai Lanjing’s inn would strike.

Memories of Lishui soon filled his mind, and on the screen, elegant lines of text began to appear:

“There’s a kind of journey…

That calls you to stroll through ancient villages.

Far from the troubles and clamor of daily life.

Just wandering at ease through the corridors of time.

So, many people flock to Xitang and Wuzhen, to Zhouzhuang and Nanxun...

But as the crowds grow, the ancient charm fades, replaced by noise.

Yet beyond the bustle...

Some places remain quietly steadfast.

In these poetic landscapes, the townsfolk live their lives.

And countless old stories are hidden here.

Guyan Huaxiang—that’s such a magical place.

It’s even more rustic than Nanxun, more tranquil than Wuzhen.

Like an otherworldly paradise…”

…

“The Ou River’s surface is broad, its current gentle.

It evokes the scene of ‘When the tide is flat, both banks are wide; the wind is right, a lone sail hangs straight.’

It is this body of water that divides Guyan Huaxiang in two.

Guyan is Yantou Village on the north bank; Huaxiang refers to Dagangtou Town on the south.

The two gaze at each other across the river, with no bridge—only painted boats ferrying passengers from shore to shore.”

…

“Wandering through Guyan Huaxiang,

You’ll find mountains and waters of rare beauty.

This is a homeland for artists and plein air painters.

By the riverside, under the trees, students and travelers sit side by side, sketching the landscape with passion.

Stroll slowly along the banks of the Ou River.

Watch the sunset’s last glow fall upon the water.

Feel the river breeze, see the sails dotting the surface—it’s as if you’re walking inside a painting.”

…

The more Lin Shenlu wrote, the more deeply moved he became.

Lishui’s beauty filled his mind with inspiration.

He wrote of the Painting Village and Guyan, of the river and ancient camphor trees.

From the streams at the village’s edge to the carved bricks of old houses.

The ancient riverside street festooned with red lanterns brimmed with life.

In the early morning, when the street was still quiet, one could hear the long, lingering footsteps of passersby.

To stroll such an old street was the best way to savor the spirit of a small town in peace.

The shops along the way were full of surprises.

Art studios and unique little boutiques on both sides offered endless memories.

The Barbizon Oil Painting Gallery found aesthetic value in ordinary scenes.

Through oil painting, it celebrated Lishui’s local customs—the best testament to the beauty of the region.

He recalled that morning, running past an old house at dawn.

A house with a skylight at its peak, letting sunlight, clouds, and the night’s stars pour in.

A small, two-story house hidden in the mountains, surrounded by breathtaking nature.

From afar, one could see white-sailed boats moored by the riverbank.

Up close, the Ou River’s surface was clean and calm.

And so on...

At this point, Lin Shenlu suddenly stopped typing.

That morning, he’d been jogging with Su Bao’er.

They’d stumbled upon an abandoned old house halfway up the mountain.

They’d walked along a path shaded by ancient camphor trees, then onto a cobblestone country road.

On one side, camphors of ever-changing shapes; on the other, moss-covered stone steps.

After passing through the poetic scenery of this southern water town, they’d found themselves before that two-story old house.

There was no daily bustle there, nor did any distracting thoughts intrude.

Only the joy that comes from being beside beautiful mountains and rivers, under lush tree canopies.

A place where one could simply daydream, gaze at the scenery—

And find a peace and composure rarely felt in ordinary life.

That place!

Lin Shenlu stood up, about to call for Hai Lanjing.

At last, he had found the spot for the inn that matched exactly what Hai Lanjing had in mind.