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It seemed that whatever natural cycles were roiling in your body, recently they were never in harmony. If you were feeling mentally alert, your physical body was sluggish, stiff or in pain. Conversely, on the days you felt physically energetic, your mind was foggy and you lacked motivation or focus. And some days you woke up more tired than when you went to bed the night before, if such a thing was even possible. Where had your life gone wrong that simply getting out bed, having a shower and brushing your hair were events worthy of self-congratulation?
It hadn’t always been like this, not when you used to be healthy. Overall, it was starting to wear down your morale. You didn’t want to feel like this, but it was more complicated than simply picking yourself up or pushing yourself through it like a ‘normal’ person, who were always so quick to dismiss or trivialise your experiences or give unsolicited medical advice as though you didn’t already live with the best doctor in Liyue who had exhaustively researched your condition.
“Oh, everybody feels tired and achy. We’re just getting old.”
“Of course you don’t feel motivated. Do you think people actually like going to work or doing chores? That’s just life.”
“But you look so well! And you’re so young!”
“Oh, I have trouble sleeping all the time.”
“Have you tried yoga, mindfulness and turmeric? What about keto or ashwagandha?”
“Everyone has trouble concentrating on things. That’s just modern life for you.”
“My sister-in-law has your condition and she’s doing great.”
“You’re tired? You don’t know the meaning of tired until you’ve had kids!”
But it wasn’t the same.
It wasn’t the same fatigue.
And people who had never experienced it just didn’t get it.
At first, you would try to explain all the ways in which it was just different for you. But that in itself became so exhausting to repeat ad nauseam to every stranger you encountered that you just gave up. Instead, you found yourself placidly nodding in compliant agreement when inside you wanted to scream at them to shut up and bang their ignorant head into a wall.
However, Baizhu truly understood. And even if he wasn’t already sick himself, you were convinced that he would understand all the same.
What was it about this man that he was a walking sanctuary? He exuded a refreshing aura of calm wherever he went. No matter how hard your day had been, something as simple as just sitting with him in comfortable silence was a balm to your weary soul. He was always able to soothe your heart, leaving you in a state of blissful peace, as though the weight of the world had been lifted from your shoulders. What made it all the more astonishing was that he carried his own burdens, and yet he always had time, energy and compassion for you. But thinking about it, so did you for him and the two of you took care of one another, acting on an almost unspoken wavelength; instinctively knowing when the other was under the weather or exhausted and showing a little extra kindness. Running a bath, making a cup of tea unprompted, rubbing each other’s temples or scalp to relieve the tension, brushing one another’s hair… It was like a perfect symbiosis. And no matter how worn out you felt, it didn’t feel like an effort to spoil him with these little gestures.
The spring had started to settle in Liyue Harbour, with the first glaze lily shoots of the year starting to breach the soil. The light had changed and become brighter, the days starting to lengthen. But a sharp breeze still blew across the sea, making the air crisp in spite of the sun breaking through the clouds. Dressing for it was difficult – the temperature was erratic and even the seemingly warm days could suddenly be interspersed with a cold snap, as much a shock to the burgeoning flower bulbs as to the citizens of the harbour.
And with the season came the latest round of sniffles, for which everybody sought remedies at the pharmacy. Although it was busy, it was nothing especially complicated; most of the remedies could be bought over the counter; vitamin supplements, tinctures for coughs or sore throats, anti-pyretics, eucalyptus or menthol ointments for nasal decongestion, and so on. During a break in the afternoon, Baizhu sat in the pharmacy kitchen enjoying a cup of tea and a piece of candied fruit after his medication. Resting his cup back on its saucer, he sighed gently with satisfaction as he stared at the sunlight streaming through the window, as if resetting himself. He idly wondered how you were doing this afternoon; though you did not complain about your ailment he could read the more subtle signs that your subconscious body language communicated to him. He wished that you would be a little more open with him, instead of him having to drag it out of you only when things had hit rock bottom. But equally he understood that you didn’t want to be someone who complained all the time – your condition was not going anywhere. Every day it was the same problems, or a variation thereof. Therefore vocalising your complaints about it only served to wear you down in a mire of negativity rather than relieve you. It was easier to just say ‘I’m fine’, even if he specifically asked. He laughed softly to himself – he was just as guilty of the same offence. Though, in his own case, he felt he had no right to complain of a burden he had freely chosen. But this morning you hadn’t seemed on form and his brows furrowed at the recollection of you getting ready for work earlier. Draining the last mouthful of tea from his cup, he rose with a sense of purpose and went back to his consultation room to work on a new formula.
When you trudged up the many stairs back home to the Pharmacy, it was an effort to put each heavy step in front of the other. With an aching heave, you picked up a crate of fresh produce that had been left at the front door after the Pharmacy had closed – no doubt a gift from a grateful patient. While it was generous of them, it felt ungrateful to admit that it did somewhat interfere with the menus that you and Baizhu planned. Suddenly you would find yourselves with an unexpected surfeit of ingredients that all needed to be used up within a couple of days else they would spoil, forcing you both to eat the same thing every day for consecutive days. There were only so many variations on radishes or spinach or melons that could be found. Sometimes you would have to give away whatever you couldn’t finish to Herbalist Gui or donate it to a local shelter.
As you walked past the counter into the living quarters, the familiar scent of antiseptic mist flowers and medicinal herbs gave way to that of dinner being prepared, causing all the tension in your shoulders to flood out like afternoon tide in the marshlands. While you did not mind cooking for Baizhu – both of you needed to eat healthy and freshly prepared meals after all – you had been dreading having to expend what little remaining energy you had this evening. Tonight it had simply felt like a chore. The sounds of earthenware bowls clinking and pots bubbling on the stove enveloped you in their cosy familiarity. There was something strangely soothing in their banality. Their backs to you as you entered the kitchen, Baizhu and Qiqi busied themselves preparing side dishes and laying the table. You couldn’t help but smile at the sound of Baizhu’s soft voice telling Qiqi how to cut radishes for the salad, as she looked up at him with wide-eyed fascination, absorbing every word as though he was imparting sacred secrets of the adepti to her. He must have told her how to do it a hundred times, but never once lost his patience; each occasion was as if he was teaching her for the first time. A warmth enveloped your heart at the paternal scene. With a small nod and a look of quiet determination, she set about her task and as Baizhu turned to reach for something, he looked at you with an expression of happy surprise.
“Oh! Hello, little finch! I didn’t hear you come in!” he exclaimed cheerfully.
“I only just got in.” you replied, going over to kiss his cheek in greeting before setting the crate down on the counter.
Baizhu smiled benevolently as you rubbed Changsheng’s head softly with your fingertip. As much as she liked to pontificate that only ‘primitive animals’ - in whose number she naturally did not include herself for she was a being of higher intellect and ability – were partial to baser things as headpats and treats, she nevertheless enjoyed it immensely. But she would rather die than ever confess such a thing out loud, to Baizhu’s amusement.
“Did you have a good day?” you asked, as you unpacked some fresh rice cakes and packets of sweet bean paste from the crate and handed the enclosed note to Baizhu.
“Busy. But nothing too strenuous.” he replied with a soft chuckle as he inspected the note to see which patient had sent it, “The bath is ready, and dinner will be soon.”
Your expression was one of relief as you thanked him before making your way to the bathroom, sinking into the hot scented water and allowing it to divest you of the day’s troubles.
After a simple but satisfying meal with Baizhu and Qiqi, you enjoyed some leisure time with Baizhu before getting ready for bed. As you pulled the covers up and rested your head on the pillow, you let out an involuntary long sigh, content to be in your bed once more. You were met with soft laughter from Baizhu, who was sitting on his side of the bed, combing out his hair. He was not about to chastise you for not doing your stretches this evening.
“One of those days?”
“I guess…” you replied with a gentle sigh.
He raised his eyebrows in teasing expectation, for you to continue. You couldn’t help but laugh softly in defeat as you decided to open up a little.
“It’s like…I just can’t get myself into sync at the moment.”
“Have you not seen the weather this week? Even the earth is struggling to find her rhythm. The plants don’t know if they’re coming or going. It’s a season of transitions after all. She’s been resting for a long while and now suddenly has so much to do with so many people relying on her. You can hardly expect her to be able to just spring out of bed like that.” he said, snapping his fingers softly for emphasis.
You smiled at his analogy as he clambered into bed and, propping himself up on his hands, peered down at you with amber eyes. His bangs hung forward and brushed your cheeks and forehead as he bent down to plant a tender kiss on your lips.
“Maybe the earth should be a little more forgiving with herself, don’t you think?” he said coaxingly, as he rubbed your cheek with the pad of this thumb.
You gave him a soft nod and said meekly, “Maybe.”
It always pained Baizhu to see you impose such strict expectations on yourself. Whenever he was exhausted from overwork or bedridden with one of his periodic flare-ups, you were always so kind and compassionate to him, both in your deeds and your sympathetic and encouraging words. Similarly, you thrived on his acceptance of your condition and his unconditional love in spite of it, and yet you could not find it in your heart to accept it yourself. Why was such kindness always a privilege you reserved for others?
With a mischievous smile, his fingertips teasingly danced across your forehead and cheeks, before brushing your lips. You quickly caught his wrist with a laugh and then peppered his slender fingers and hand with light kisses; a prelude to some slow and cosy affection before sleep.
The weather remained somewhat erratic over the course of the week, so it was with some apprehension that you and Baizhu tentatively arranged a picnic for the weekend, to view the cherry blossoms. As the day approached, you suspected that you’d have to postpone it – it had been very cold and windy, with periodic rain. At this rate, there’d be no blossoms left to view; either they’d have been shaken from the branches prematurely, or the bad weather would go on for so long that you’d end up missing out on seeing them altogether. But by some miracle, on Sunday afternoon it got a little brighter after lunch, so you both quickly gathered your provisions and made your way up the mountain path just outside the city, where there was a small grove of cherry blossom trees overlooking the city.
Baizhu shook out a blanket for you both to sit on and you unpacked the picnic you’d prepared for the occasion. Under the dappled sunlight, you both grazed on small savoury dishes, enjoying a relaxed conversation and spotting the first butterflies of the season and returning migratory birds.
“Ah, that reminds me. I have a little something for you.” Baizhu said casually, as if something had slipped his mind.
“Huh?”
He smiled and handed you a small package wrapped in paper, which you tentatively accepted. When had he had time to buy a gift? You smiled with wry amusement as you recognised the fibrous undyed natural wrapping paper and raffia cord, usually used in the Pharmacy for packaging prescriptions. Whatever he had got you he had wrapped himself.
Setting the box on your knee, you tugged on the cord to loosen it and then carefully unfurled the paper so as not to tear it. Your careful movements did not escape Baizhu’s gentle gaze, and he could not help but feel a little warmth at how much you cherished his gift even without knowing what it was. The paper unfolded to reveal a wooden box, which you then opened with a sense of anticipation, as though it were a mysterious treasure. Your eyes widened in surprised to find a jumble of dried herbs and flower petals inside. Baizhu chuckled at your confused expression.
“A personalised herbal tea blend, just for you.”
A small gasp escaped your lips as your heart clenched; you were so moved by his gift.
“For me?”
He nodded as he smiled, watching with quiet pride as you lifted the box and inhaled deeply, closing your eyes and smiling with bliss at its floral and perfectly balanced scent.
“It smells lovely! So delicate and fragrant.”
“Let’s not be hasty – you’ve yet to taste it.”
“Even if it tastes bad, just the fact that you took time to make it for me means it will still be precious to me.”
He chuckled, “Well I wouldn’t go that far! It isn’t purely medicinal you know. There is still some room for some more hedonistic enjoyment too. It’s nice to enjoy tea for the sake of tea from time to time.”
He gestured to you to hand him the box and said conspiratorially, “Shall we make some now?”
You nodded enthusiastically and knelt next to him as you watched him unpack a small earthenware teapot and some cups, as well as a thermos of hot water. An excited tingle rippled along your neck and spine at the sound of the dry herbs and petals being scooped into the teapot, the water being poured and the tinkle of the lid as he talked you through the optimum preparation process, the temperature of the water and the brewing time.
When the tea was ready he poured it into the tasting cups and handed one to you, looking at you with an expectant smile as he waited for you to take a sip once it had cooled a little.
Your heart fluttered with anticipation and you inhaled the gentle fragrance which had bloomed a bit more after steeping. You could not be sure, but thought that perhaps you could identify the scent of chrysanthemum, rose, lavender…or was that limeflower or passionflower…Or chamomile or lemon balm…? The flavours were familiar but also ethereal as the breeze, present but then escaping you as another took its place in their harmonised dance.
You took a sip and close your eyes as you savoured its delicate and sophisticated flavour. It was warm and floral and calming. And most of all, it was full of Baizhu’s love. It felt like you had been elevated to a soft cloud of repose and safety. It was impossible to suppress the wide smile on your face.
“Well, little finch…?”
“It’s wonderful. I can’t describe it in a way that would do it justice. I…I love it. It’s like a warm and comforting blanket.”
He smiled with delight at your words. That feeling of comfort was more than anything he could have hoped for.
“Well, I prepared it with you in mind.” he said, with a gentle smile, “There are some things to alleviate fatigue, and some with anti-inflammatory properties, and also some additional ingredients for general relaxation, to relieve anxiety, and to promote sleep. Let me know if any of the flavours don’t work for you though. I can adjust the blend.”
He had no way of knowing how precious this box of herbs was to you. It was a gift that had truly come from his heart. He had taken time to research your ailment and its symptoms and balance both therapeutic benefits and flavours. Even if he couldn’t cure you, it was a perfect aid to make your troubles a little lighter.
“You have no idea how much it means to me. Truly.”
“I’m very happy you like it.” he replied softly, before offering you some pastries to have with it.
After a while enjoying one another’s company on the petal-strewn grass, a yawn involuntary escaped your lips. It had been a long week and it had finally caught up with you. Baizhu gently wrapped an arm around you and drew you down to lie with him on the blanket, hugging you close as you both looked up at the canopy of petals against a sea of blue.
“Do you know what the cherry blossom symbolises, little finch?”
“Mortality…? Transience…? Impermanence...?”
“Yes, all of those things. But also renewal, rebirth…hope.”
“Hope? What do you mean?”
“The cherry blossom is one of the first flowers of the year, braving the cold. The flowers appear even before their leaves. Such courageous little flowers. And their courage is on show for all to see and admire. No matter how harsh the winter is, they will always be there at the end of it.”
You laughed bitterly.
“But the petals all fall off in the wind. They barely last a week.” you replied with uncharacteristic scorn, despite how much you loved the cherry blossoms.
“Oh but everything is temporary,” he replied, rubbing your back rhythmically, “Whether it is the short blossom season, or the months that the trees are stripped of their petals, with nothing but stark bare twigs piercing the winter sky. Isn’t that what makes the flowers more precious?”
Seeing the sceptical look on your face at his attempt to encourage you and lift your despondent spirits, he continued.
“If you see a cherry blossom tree without its flowers, is it ugly to you?” He petted your head, “Even if it’s bare, it’s still a cherry blossom tree, after all. It is just resting a while, waiting to fulfil its potential once more. It can’t possibly bloom all year round. That would be unsustainable. But it still has value even without its flowers; its leaves provide shade in the summer, and its branches make beautifully haunting shapes on the horizon in the winter.”
He kissed the top of your head tenderly.
“And you, my little cherry blossom, you have bloomed through the darkest of times. And while you may feel as though the wind has shaken off all your petals, you will blossom again. And when you do, you will take the world’s breath away. You just need a little rest. And patience. You can’t bloom every day. Nor should you. Nobody expects you to.”
His words of praise, so demonstrative of his unshakeable faith in you, made your eyes well up with tears. Sometimes you felt as if you did not deserve him, or that you would be quite lost without him. Baizhu smiled sympathetically at the sight and pulled your head to his chest, petting your head soothingly, with no pressure to talk or explain.
For a while, the two of you lay there in comfortable silence, taking in the sounds of the wind in the branches and birdsong, the refreshing scent of the blossoms on the mountain air, and the dappled light that created an almost magical and ethereal moment.
As your lids grew heavier, it dawned on you that the tea had had a soporific effect.
“Wait, didn’t you say that that tea is to help me sleep?”
“Well, it is true that it is probably better drunk before bed,” he replied mischievously, feigning innocence, “But I daresay it’s probably on account of the fresh air and exercise walking up the mountain. And the general tranquillity of nature.”
You laughed softly in defeat as his arm slid down your back to your waist, wrapping you securely in his grasp. It was said that if you didn’t take time to rest then your body would force you. But Baizhu would never let you overextend yourself to that degree, instead taking matters into his own hands, forcing you to stop and look at the scenery instead of unrealistically pushing yourself to be all things to all people. It was hard to reconcile yourself with the fact that the person you once were didn’t exist anymore, so you couldn’t hold yourself to their standards. You had to adapt and adjust. And accept.
You felt guilty at falling asleep during the only free time Baizhu had had this week. Falling asleep in his company always felt like time wasted as you couldn’t actually do anything meaningful with him. That said, from his perspective, watching you get some proper rest was very satisfactory, just as it was for you whenever you saw him sleep soundly. Your head still on his chest, the sounds of nature faded as his gentle heartbeat drummed in your ear, soothing you into a restful slumber.