第十五章 柳岸感沧桑翩鸿掉影 桐阴听夜雨落木惊寒 (Chapter 15: By the Willow Bank, Musing on Vicissitudes, a Fleeting Swan Casts Its Reflection; Under the Paulownia Shade, Listening to Night Rain, Falling Leaves Stir the Creeping Cold)

Now, Fan Jiashu had been feeling downcast ever since returning from the Guan family that day. Thinking of the plight of Guan Shoufeng and his daughter, he felt both pity and admiration. The next afternoon, with nothing to do, he strolled again toward Houmen. Upon reaching the Guan household, he saw Xiugu sitting under the eaves, needle and thread in hand, her head bowed as she mended clothes. In the courtyard, the old willow tree swayed in the wind, its branches trembling, and fallen leaves scattered on the ground, a scene of desolate autumn light. Fan Jiashu could not help but sigh, "Truly, by the willow bank one feels the vicissitudes, and a fleeting swan casts its reflection."

Xiugu looked up and saw it was Fan Jiashu, quickly rising with a smile, "Mr. Fan, you've come. Please, sit inside." So saying, she lifted the curtain to let Fan Jiashu in. Shoufeng was leaning on the kang, and upon seeing Fan Jiashu enter, he nodded and smiled, "Young brother, you are truly a man of your word, coming as promised." Fan Jiashu said, "Uncle, is your health better? I came specifically to see you." Shoufeng replied, "Thank you for your concern. Much better. But at my age, after this illness, I always feel my spirit isn't what it used to be." Fan Jiashu said, "Uncle, take it easy and recuperate. There are still long days ahead."

Xiugu brought tea, and Fan Jiashu took it, noticing she wore simple, everyday clothes, yet clean and neat, with no makeup on her face, possessing a natural, unadorned beauty. He thus asked, "What have you been doing at home these days, miss?" Xiugu said, "Nothing but some needlework chores, and occasionally reading books." Fan Jiashu asked, "What books?" Xiugu smiled slightly, "Still those few books Mr. Fan gave." Fan Jiashu recalled the previous occasion of giving books, and couldn't help but blush slightly. Shoufeng said, "My daughter, since meeting Mr. Fan, has taken a liking to reading. But in a family like ours, what good is reading?" Fan Jiashu said, "Reading is always good. It enlightens the mind and cultivates character, regardless of wealth or poverty." Xiugu interjected, "Father, here you go again. Mr. Fan's kind intentions, we should just accept them." Shoufeng laughed heartily and said no more.

Fan Jiashu sat for a while, and as dusk approached, he rose to take his leave. Xiugu saw him out, and when they reached the willow tree, Fan Jiashu said, "This willow must be decades old. Seeing it endure wind and rain, still standing firm, life is much the same." Xiugu said, "Mr. Fan always speaks wisely. I often think, to live, one must be resilient like this willow tree." Fan Jiashu nodded in agreement, exchanged a few more words, and then departed.

That evening, Fan Jiashu returned to the Tao family. After dinner, he sat alone in the study reading. Suddenly, the weather changed dramatically. A fierce wind arose, followed by rain. Raindrops pattered on the paulownia leaves in the courtyard, a continuous rustling sound. Fan Jiashu put down his book, listening to the rain, and his heart grew even more melancholy. Recalling the willow leaves falling at the Guan household during the day, and thinking of his own wanderings, the figures of Feng Xi and Lina surfaced in his mind one by one, leaving him uncertain of the future.

Lost in thought, he suddenly heard someone call outside the window, "Young master, are you asleep?" It was Liu Fu. Fan Jiashu replied, "Not yet. What is it?" Liu Fu said, "The young mistress says, with the heavy rain, you should rest early." Fan Jiashu said, "I know." After Liu Fu left, Fan Jiashu had no desire to sleep. The rain grew fiercer, the sound of paulownia leaves intertwining with the rain, as if countless sorrows poured forth in this night rain.

Fan Jiashu walked to the window, pushed open a panel, and saw only darkness in the courtyard, with lamplight under the eaves illuminating the rain like woven threads. A cool breeze blew in, carrying dampness, chilling his face. He recalled the line, "Under the paulownia shade, listening to the night rain, falling leaves stir the creeping cold," and softly murmured it. He thought to himself, the gatherings and partings of life, the vicissitudes of worldly affairs, are all as unpredictable as this wind and rain. Where will all that lies before him lead?

He stood there dazed for a long time until deep night, then closed the window and went to bed. That night, the rain continued unabated. In his dreams, Fan Jiashu was also vague and confused, unsure of where he was.