Unparalleled medical and martial arts skills, saving the CEO's fiancée at the start.

Aygul's cousin's letter arrived in early September.

This time, the envelope had even more stamps on it, making it bulge as if it were carrying a bag full of words.

Ye Chen opened the package and found a small packet wrapped in gauze inside, in addition to the letter. Inside were a few dried seeds, along with a small note that had a circle drawn on it and the words "They've survived."

The letter was written by Aygul's cousin and three other locals, pieced together from their own words.

The gist of the story is that the seeds sent in spring—astragalus and licorice—have sprouted, while angelica has grown the best, with leaves larger than the palm of a hand.

An elderly local pharmacist tasted the fresh leaves and said they tasted good, so he offered to help them sell them at the market.

The pharmacy's business gradually improved, and the tailor shop and blacksmith shop next door came to inquire, wanting to join in the planting.

They wanted to develop the open space behind the pharmacy into a small medicinal herb garden, which they named Baizhi Garden.

At the end of the letter, there was a drawing of that snow-covered grass, with an additional pattern commonly used by the locals next to it. The two flowers were squeezed together, crooked and twisted.

Ye Chen showed the letter to Ayiguli.

She sat on the stone steps in the courtyard, turning the letter over and over three times, finally stopping at the snowflake, a very slight smile curving her lips. She didn't speak, but simply handed the packet of seeds to Ye Chen, saying, "Take a look at this, Master Su. If it can be propagated, send another batch next spring."

Ye Chen took them and felt that the seeds were as light as dust, yet as heavy as a heartfelt sentiment from afar.

Ye Chen nodded in agreement.

Su Qinghan looked at the seeds, then at the letter.

She held a angelica seed up to the light and said, "This is the first batch. They did a good job saving the seeds. We can send more next year and let them try angelica and codonopsis. But I have to remind them not to be greedy and to figure out the soil and water conditions first."

Ye Chen wrote these words down and then asked Shen Jingqiu to write a reply.

Shen Jingqiu's handwriting was neat. After she finished writing, she specially drew a small hoe and a straw hat at the end of the letter, saying, "Don't forget to wear your hat when you're working."

Ye Chen looked at him and laughed, saying, "You draw better than me."

Shen Jingqiu said, "I grew up in Yaopu Lane. I'm not good at anything else, but I'm good at drawing these things."

On the day the letter was sent, Shen Bo'an sat under the eaves of Baizhi Valley, basking in the sun.

He can already walk a few steps on his own without anyone's help.

He heard that the angelica in Central Asia had sprouted, so he walked to the edge of the herb garden with his cane and squatted down to look at it for a long time.

Su Qinghan came out of the house and saw him squatting. She didn't help him up, but just said, "Don't squat for too long, your legs can't take it."

Shen Bo'an waved his hand: "I'm just taking a look. The leaves of your angelica here are even more lush than the ones I planted in Nancheng. It's not easy for them to survive over there."

He paused for a moment and slowly replied, "My grandfather always said that Angelica dahurica may look inconspicuous, but it can survive anywhere. It can thrive in dry or damp weather, and it can grow even in barren soil. If people could be like Angelica dahurica, there would be no obstacle they couldn't overcome."

Su Qinghan didn't reply, but simply placed a pot of freshly brewed herbal tea beside him and turned to go inside.

On the day of the Autumn Equinox, Ye Chen and Jiang Ruoxi returned to Medicine King Valley and stayed for a few days.

The medicinal herb fields in the valley have been mostly harvested, and the freshly turned soil gleams with a deep brown light under the sun.

Su Qinghan wiped the old plaque of Anhetang clean, and then had someone put the manuscript written by Shen Jingqiu into a newly made camphor wood box.

She said, "It's time to set off to open Anhetang back in the southern part of the city this fall."

Ye Chen asked, "Are you coming with us?"

Su Qinghan shook her head: "I'm not going. You young people can go by yourselves, hang up the plaque, take a picture and bring it back to me."

Knowing his master's temper, Ye Chen stopped trying to persuade him.

He asked Shen Jingqiu to go back to Nancheng first to make preparations, rent a shop, and then asked Han Song to help contact people.

Jiang Ruoxi funded the renovation of the old house and had the company's design department make a new signboard. The three characters "Anhetang" on it were copied from the old plaque, but the new wood and old font made it look both ancient and new.

The night before their departure, Ye Chen sat in the courtyard of Medicine King Valley, sharing a pot of tea with Su Qinghan.

Su Qinghan didn't say much, and Ye Chen didn't say much either.

The night in the mountains is very quiet, with only autumn insects chirping softly among the grass.

Su Qinghan suddenly said, "When your father came back from Anhetang, he told me something. He said that Old Master Shen of Anhetang told him that what a person can't pass down in their lifetime is what is truly lost, and what can be passed down can be found again even after decades."

Ye Chen held his teacup without saying a word.

He knew what his master was talking about.

What Medicine King Valley has passed down is not only prescriptions and kung fu, but also a way of life.

Remember what needs to be remembered, repay what needs to be repaid, and bring back those who need to be received.

The plaque of Anhetang has traveled a long way from the south of the city to the south of the river, and now it is going back.

But it didn't go back empty.

It carries the seeds of Medicine King Valley, Shen Jingqiu's craftsmanship, the imprint of Angelica Valley, and Ayiguli's snowflake from Central Asia.

Ye Chen suddenly realized that some paths are truly worth walking.

The next morning, Ye Chen and Jiang Ruoxi set off with Shen Bo'an and Shen Jingqiu.

Shen Bo'an sat in the back seat, a blanket covering his lap, holding the camphor wood box containing the manuscript in his arms.

The mountains and fields outside the car window receded one by one; the rice was yellow, the maple leaves were red, and the wind was filled with the scent of harvest.

Jiang Ruoxi drove, and Ye Chen sat in the passenger seat.

Shen Jingqiu was peeling oranges for her grandfather in the back row.

While eating an orange, Shen Bo'an suddenly said, "On the day Anhetang reopens, I want to put up a couplet on the door."

The first line reads, "A thousand-year-old herb in Medicine King Valley," and the second line reads, "A single fragrance lingers before Anhe Hall."

Shen Jingqiu said, "Grandpa, your couplet doesn't have the correct tones."

Shen Bo'an glared at her: "What do you know? As long as the meaning is right."

Ye Chen listened from the front row and couldn't help but laugh.

Jiang Ruoxi smiled too. The air in the car was warm and soft, like an orange just picked from a tree.

The car drove for most of the day and arrived in the southern part of the city in the evening. Yaopu Lane was still there, and the old locust tree was still there.

The wooden door, which had been empty for months, was ajar, the nail holes on the lintel still visible, as if waiting for something.

Shen Bo'an walked to the door with his cane and looked up at it for a long time.

Then he asked Ye Chen to bring over the plaque, and he personally hung up the three characters "Anhetang" on it.

His hand was very steady when he hammered the nail in.

After hanging it up, he stepped back a few paces, looked at it, and reached out to wipe the dust off the plaque.

The wind blew in from the alley entrance, rustling the leaves of the old locust tree.

Shen Bo'an suddenly said, "Grandpa, open the door."

The sound was soft, as if afraid of waking someone.

But Ye Chen heard it, and Jiang Ruoxi heard it too.

They didn't speak, but stood behind Shen Bo'an, watching the old plaque slowly light up in the twilight.

Like a lamp that has been blown by the wind for many years, it has finally been lit again.