Chapter 76: Peach Blossom Wine and the Mundane World

...
“Deerling... I smell something delicious...” Su Bao’er sniffed delicately.

Of course, Lin Shenlu smelled it too.

There were still many unique buildings in this village. Quite a few ancient structures from the Ming and Qing dynasties were scattered among the houses, giving the whole village an old-world charm.

The most striking were the chastity archway from the Qianlong era and the old, renowned distillery in the village.

The archway could be left aside for now—the distillery was famous far and wide for its peach blossom wine.

It was the fragrance of the peach blossom brew that Su Bao’er had caught.

Although they had tasted two gourds of peach blossom wine before, now that Lin Shenlu stood before the distillery, she found herself unable to take another step.

At the entrance, the courtyard held a lotus pond.

In the center of the pond stood a massive green ceramic jar, from which upright lotus leaves and tightly budded flowers stretched.

It was a scene of quiet elegance.

The threshold at the front door exuded a sense of age.

On either side stood animal stone carvings of indeterminate species, their forms both quaint and exquisite, adorable and ancient.

A pot of bamboo, its leaves mottled as if stained with tears, rested lightly on the flagstones at the entrance, while a few succulents had rooted themselves in tiny spaces made from broken shards of earthenware.

Weeds and moss grew wantonly on the stone steps at the door.

Such was the facade of the old distillery!

Taking two steps forward, Lin Shenlu saw the open wooden window.

Beside the weathered window sat two large rustic jars, their mouths stuffed with indigo-dyed cloth.

On each jar, a pink sheet of paper was pasted, with three bold brushstrokes: Peach Blossom Wine.

Looking through the window into the house, the entire wall was lined with black ceramic jars—nearly a hundred, all filled with peach blossom wine.

The aroma was already wafting through the air.

To walk this path and take a sip of long-brewed peach blossom wine—

Perhaps one could become a peach blossom immortal.

Boundless ease, a romantic sentiment.

Such was the unrestrained tranquility of Yantou Village.

...

Lin Shenlu led Su Bao’er along the village stream all the way to the bridgehead, which was none other than the Tongji Weir from the Southern Dynasties.

To the people here, Tongji Weir was a marvel.

Lin Shenlu knew that Yantou Village sat at an elevation of seventy-three meters, while the dam of Tongji Weir was placed at the highest point of the entire Bihu Plain.

This allowed the canal water to flow from high to low, irrigating the whole plain—every acre of fertile field was a granary that ensured harvests against both drought and flood!

...

After walking for a while, Lin Shenlu rubbed her slightly hungry stomach.

Of course, she was not alone—Su Bao’er had long been hungry.

“Deerling... is it time for meat?” Su Bao’er asked in a daze.

“I am indeed hungry. Let’s go—just up ahead I saw a small restaurant that looked quite nice.” Lin Shenlu smiled, ruffling Su Bao’er’s hair.

“Mmm... Deerling, don’t touch my head... you’re rubbing it silly...”

...

Not far from where the two stood was a small house with white walls and gray tiles.

A fresh red couplet was pasted on the door, and a wooden sign on one side read, “Honored Guests, Please Enter.”

Under a wooden rod jutting from the wall hung four planks, each bearing a large character: “Tea,” “Snacks,” “Diner,” “Pavilion.”

That seemed to be the name of the shop.

On the front white wall, three round bamboo plaques were displayed, each emblazoned with a bold character: Sauce, Noodles, Tea.

“Come, let’s go see what good things they have to eat!” Lin Shenlu said.

Inside, the decor was rustic. The two took a seat, eager to savor the flavors of country cooking.

“Boss, two bowls of board-sliced noodles and two servings of Jiangnan meat rice dumplings!” Lin Shenlu ordered from the menu.

These were the house specialties.

Although she had never tried board-sliced noodles before, Lin Shenlu seemed to recall the dish being mentioned in Water Margin.

In the thieves’ jargon, the choice was posed: “Will you have board-sliced noodles or wontons?”

To eat board-sliced noodles meant being hacked by bandits, your body left in pieces.

Wontons, on the other hand, implied throwing yourself into the river, but at least your body stayed whole.

Of course, the shop’s board-sliced noodles were famed for their taste.

Freshly made, generously seasoned.

The boss’s blade rose and fell—the noodles danced.

“Deerling... he’s so skillful with that knife... I want one too...”

Lin Shenlu was speechless.

“Bao’er, what do you want a knife for...?”

...

Soon the noodles and rice dumplings arrived.

The large bowls of noodles were fragrant with shredded pork, bright green leaves and tomatoes providing a colorful contrast. The noodles were chewy, the broth savory.

The brown rice dumplings were filled with salted egg yolk and succulent pork.

A single bite released a burst of aroma—a heartbeat on the tip of the tongue.

“Delicious... so delicious...” Su Bao’er ate the rice dumplings heartily, drinking the noodle broth.

Lin Shenlu also ate her fill, greatly enjoying the local rural cuisine.

...

By afternoon, having taken enough photos and explored to their hearts’ content, Lin Shenlu and Su Bao’er returned to where they had parked.

Once again, they headed back to the Painting Village.

As evening approached, the Painting Village was abuzz with activity.

Under a great ancient tree, villagers and visitors who had finished dinner gathered together, while not far off, an open-air film was playing.

At night, the roadsides of the Painting Village were still dotted with artists at work, splashing ink onto their canvases.

It seemed the influence of the Barbizon school had lingered here for many years, with its traditions alive and well.

The Barbizon school was composed of French landscape painters who were active in Barbizon near the Forest of Fontainebleau for fifty years after 1830.

They were the forerunners of Impressionism, the first in the world to paint directly from nature.

In Lishui, this community of artists who loved depicting nature became known as the Lishui Barbizon.

They excelled at capturing beauty from familiar scenes, simple landscapes, and everyday life, creating works that appealed to both refined and popular tastes.

Their style echoed that of the French Barbizon painters.

That was why there was a large Barbizon oil painting gallery in Lishui.

Lin Shenlu rubbed her hands together.

How long had it been since she last held a brush?

She wondered if her skills from those years had faded.

For Lin Shenlu, both photography and painting were passionate pursuits.

And in this Lishui, this Painting Village—a place where countless works had been created over the years—she believed she would surely find a painting that truly belonged to her soul.

That would be a portrait of her inner world.

...

Not far away, Su Bao’er was squatting beside a female oil painter, gazing in fascination.

She stared at the canvas, then turned to study the artist’s face, full of curiosity.

Lin Shenlu couldn’t help but laugh.

Was this one here just to amuse?

“Bao’er, come here!” Lin Shenlu called.

“Mmm... Deerling... come look at this painting...”

Su Bao’er, still squatting, waved at Lin Shenlu.

Helpless, Lin Shenlu walked over to the painter.

Closer now, she could see clearly—the canvas depicted the customs and people of the land.

It was the human warmth beneath the ancient tree.

Yes... she had painted it...

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