Chapter 9: Tea Pavilion Dreams
The days after the second summer market passed softly, like wind through rice fields.
Lin Mu's small shop had begun receiving more regular customers — not a flood, but a steady trickle of people who had seen his booth, sipped his teas, or followed the handwritten QR code to his WeChat store.
Most were locals. A few came from nearby towns. Orders were still limited — Lin Mu had no interest in rushing or scaling up too fast — but there was a rhythm now.
And inside that rhythm, he found something precious.
A sense of place.
And someone to share it with.
---
Xu Qingling had stopped asking for permission to help. Now, she simply showed up — usually in the morning or just before dusk — with something new in her bag: label drafts, fabric samples, or just chilled chrysanthemum water.
Lin Mu never questioned it.
In truth, he found himself waiting for those footsteps.
This particular afternoon, she arrived with two folded sketches tucked under her arm.
"I was thinking about that pavilion idea," she said as they sat in the real-world garden. "If you ever do open a proper tearoom — not just the market table — it should feel like a retreat."
He leaned closer as she unrolled the pages.
One sketch showed a narrow wooden structure with wide eaves and sliding windows, surrounded by a bamboo fence. Inside: low tables, cushions, soft lamps. Outside: a path winding through herbs and flowering vines.
"It's peaceful," he said quietly.
"That's what you make people feel," she replied, glancing up at him. "So it should reflect that."
He didn't respond right away.
He just studied the sketch again. Then said softly, "Would you… want to design it together, someday?"
Xu Qingling smiled — not wide, just a slow curving of her lips that warmed everything around it.
"I'd like that."
---
That night, Lin Mu entered the portable world and stood before the newly built Rest House Pavilion.
It looked uncannily like her drawing — as if the system had anticipated his thoughts.
He set a table inside, added two cushions, and placed a soft-glowing lantern on the bamboo shelf nearby.
Then he opened the system menu and whispered:
"Decorate Pavilion."
---
[Select Theme:
• Simple Zen
• Peach Blossom Spring
• Evening Garden
• Warm Moonlight]
He chose Evening Garden.
The pavilion shimmered faintly as floral shadows appeared along the walls, and the scent of blooming gardenia filled the air.
Lin Mu brewed two cups of tea — one for himself, and one he placed gently across the table.
He sat quietly for a long while, sipping slowly, the second cup untouched.
Yet not forgotten.
---
The next morning brought something unexpected.
As Lin Mu stepped out to tend the physical garden, he noticed a new visitor.
A woman in her fifties, wearing a straw hat and carrying a cloth bag, stood by the gate. She looked both hesitant and curious.
"Are you Lin Mu?" she asked.
"I am."
"I heard from Auntie Chen you make herbal tea for health," she said. "My husband has trouble sleeping. I was wondering…"
Lin Mu listened carefully, then invited her in.
By the end of the visit, he had prepared a small custom blend — wild jujube, chrysanthemum, hint of dried longan.
She thanked him repeatedly before leaving.
Later that day, two more elderly visitors came.
One had trouble with digestion. Another simply wanted "something calming."
Word was spreading — not through ads or social media, but through mouths that spoke over fences, market stalls, and mahjong tables.
Lin Mu's little world was slowly touching others.
And he didn't mind.
---
That evening, Xu Qingling returned again.
They worked in silence for a while — she sketching new botanical label ideas, he sorting freshly dried orange peel — until finally, she set her pencil down.
"Lin Mu."
He looked up.
"If you could… live anywhere. Start fresh. Where would it be?"
He thought for a long time.
"I don't think I want to start fresh," he finally said. "I think I want to grow something here. Just slow enough that I can appreciate every season."
She looked at him — eyes deep and thoughtful.
"I think I understand," she said. "That's rare, you know."
"I don't want much," he said. "Just… a life that fits me. A garden. A quiet room. A few people who stay."
She smiled faintly. "And someone to share the tea with?"
His voice was very soft.
"Maybe that, too."
Their eyes lingered — again, not in dramatic tension, but in something deeper. A kind of stillness between hearts that no longer needed rushing.
Outside, the wind rustled the herb leaves. Somewhere in the next yard, a wind chime tinkled gently.
And in that moment, Lin Mu felt the stirrings of something new — not change, not conflict, but connection.
The kind that takes root quietly and grows without needing to bloom too soon.
---
End of Chapter 9