Chapter 81: Wisteria Blossoms, Happy New Year's Eve

“Deer Kid… I’m hungry…” Su Bao’er finally admitted her hunger.

After walking all morning, Lin Shenlu was hungry as well.

Today’s harvest had been plentiful. They captured long stretches of video with the drone, many of the beautiful landscapes perfect for photographs.

“Come on, let’s go eat some meat!” Lin Shenlu said with a smile.

In Stone Village… well, there was no stone banquet. But there was plenty of other local cuisine.

As they passed through the village, Lin Shenlu noticed many doorways with bamboo poles hung with neatly sliced, boiled bamboo shoots drying in the sun.

Perhaps it was because the area around Yanxia Village was rich in bamboo groves, so dishes made with bamboo shoots were everywhere.

He brought Su Bao’er to a local homestay-restaurant. The moment they walked in, Lin Shenlu caught the fresh scent of bamboo shoots, and of course, the smoky aroma of cured meat.

“Boss, I’ll have the wisteria blossom scrambled eggs, dried bamboo shoot and pork trotter stew… cured meat stir-fried with bamboo shoots, and a free-range chicken soup with goji berries and red dates!” Lin Shenlu’s appetite grew just reading the menu.

If you’re going to eat, it must be something special.

He’d never even heard of wisteria blossom scrambled eggs before.

While wandering through the village earlier, he’d seen a house by Pujie Bridge with a tall wisteria tree in full bloom. The dangling clusters of purple flowers looked just like bunches of grapes hanging from the branches.

Who would have thought wisteria blossoms could be eaten?

Soon, the dish was brought to the table. The white diamond-shaped plate was filled with pale purple flowers and golden scrambled eggs. The colors matched well, though it looked a bit strange—how often does one eat purple food?

Lin Shenlu found the taste even more intriguing. It was his first time trying wisteria blossoms, and to his surprise, they were crisp. The eggs were soft and silky, the petals crunchy—a unique combination.

This dish was excellent in both texture and flavor. Only the purple color might give one pause.

But what he really looked forward to was the stir-fried bamboo shoots with cured meat. Lin Shenlu had always enjoyed cured meat. The fresh, clean taste of bamboo shoots, whether stir-fried or braised, was always brought out so well. Paired with the savory cured meat, it was a match made in heaven.

And the large bowl of free-range chicken soup was a village specialty, too. How could one visit the countryside and not have local chicken?

Farm-raised chicken, stewed slowly with goji berries and red dates, the meat was tender, the broth rich and fragrant…

Su Bao’er gnawed happily on a chicken drumstick, while Lin Shenlu savored the soup with contentment.

…

Meanwhile, Hailan Whale was walking through Dagangtou Town, a small backpack slung over one shoulder.

To say she was astonished today would be an understatement. She had never expected to see so many artists in a small town. It was no wonder this place was called the “homeland of painting.”

Men, women, children, and elders alike—anyone could sit in a corner with a brush and capture the scenery before them. Of course, the quality varied, as there is a difference between artists and hobbyists.

All morning, Hailan Whale had visited many houses and shops. Some were homes of the original villagers, some were former businesses now sublet. The styles and ambiance were wonderful, but they were all a bit too small.

For someone who ran a hotel in Dali Santorini, these little rooms and cramped layouts simply couldn’t meet her requirements.

In her mind, whether it was a hotel or a traditional inn, the courtyard had to be spacious, the rooms many, and the style paramount—especially after seeing how Lin Shenlu had transformed the Whale & Deer in Dali into something so soulful.

More than ever, Hailan Whale didn’t want to just open an inn; she wanted to do something meaningful and distinctive alongside it.

The inns here in the ancient painting town were all somewhat underwhelming. Yet, each one operating had its own charm.

She had just passed one called Reincarnation. Its small, brown wooden sign was affixed to a timeworn, bare wall. The overall style was a striking sight.

There was also the Waterside Residence, where the freshest fish could be tasted, right by the Ou River—open the window and the river view was yours. The style was lovely, but the rooms were too few.

Across the street, Pillow by the Water, Sleep with the Wind, was also unique. You could sip tea and stay the night; on the left side of the door hung a plant blooming with red flowers, and on the right, three ears of corn—one of them a decorative variety.

The name she liked best was an inn called Neither Home Nor Inn. It felt more like an art space than a guesthouse.

It seemed that shop names in this ancient town were chosen by artists from all over the country—perhaps wanderers who had drifted here and fallen in love with the place, settling down to live a life devoted to the spirit: painting, writing, photography, playing music, meeting friends…

Beside Hailan Whale was an oil painting studio. A poster hung on one side: a man in linen clothes playing a long, flute-like instrument. She didn’t know what kind of instrument it was, but the words on the poster caught her attention:

“When the lights fade, guests come from afar.
Tomorrow’s prosperity, let us strive together.
Artists of the painting town do not wander far.
Established in August 2008.”

…

Hailan Whale was enamored with the artistic atmosphere here. But what style, what approach, could make her own inn truly meaningful in this place?

At that moment, she realized that choosing a location was no longer the crucial issue. Discussing with Lin Shenlu how to open an inn with soul and significance—that was what really mattered.

She’d walked enough for the day, seen enough, and decided to return to the courtyard to wait for Lin Shenlu.

As for moving out to stay at an inn? Not a chance.

After living in inns in Dali for three or four years, she longed for the feeling of home. And for Lin Shenlu’s sake alone, she was determined to stay in the little courtyard—even if it meant sharing a room with Su Bao’er, listening to her grinding her teeth, snoring, and talking in her sleep at night…

…

Lin Shenlu’s phone rang—a Dali number, Hailan Whale.

“Hello?”

“How much longer until you’re back?” Hailan Whale asked from the other end.

“Soon, we’re just about finished here,” Lin Shenlu checked the time.

“Then hurry home, I’m hungry…”

“If you’re hungry, why don’t you eat? Why are you asking me… Did you not find a place to stay?”

“I tried… but everywhere’s full… I’ve got nowhere to go, so I’ll stay one more night!” Hailan Whale replied cheerfully.

“I don’t buy it—when are the inns in Lishui ever fully booked?” Lin Shenlu said, half exasperated.

“All right, enough, just come back soon. I have something important to discuss with you!” Hailan Whale cut him off before he could continue.