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The damp grass tickles Wei Ying’s bare feet. She lays on her back, enjoying the early morning sky. The shades of light blue and green above welcome birdsong and light.
I’m back here again.
She looks around. The familiar rock with the perennials growing around it sits to her left. On her right, the creek babbles its usual content rhythm.
Her skin isn’t wrinkled. Her eyesight is clear. Her back doesn’t ache.
“Ah,” she sighs. She sits up, stretching her limbs before walking down the hill. Sitting at the base is a small cottage, complete with sprawling gardens and chickens happily pecking at the ground. A small plume of smoke rises out of the chimney.
She walks through the small, white gate and steps onto the porch. The antique wood deck creaks under her feet. It’s a pleasant, welcoming sound. She walks through the screen door and is welcomed by the scent of fresh bread and the crackles of eggs frying.
She walks up and wraps her arms around the cook’s waist. She plays with the ribbons sewn onto the apron. “Morning, Lan Zhan.”
“Good morning, my love.” Lan Zhan turns, lightly kissing Wei Ying’s forehead. She smiles, flipping an egg over. “Enjoy your morning walk?”
Wei Ying nods. Yawning, she hops up onto the kitchen counter. She crosses her legs and perches her chin on her hand. She loves gazing at her wife like this. She’ll never get tired of it.
They enjoy breakfast out on the porch. They sit on two rocking chairs painted clementine and lime. Wei Ying had insisted on getting the green one, but only because she thinks orange is Lan Zhan’’s color. It suits your aura, she had said.
After breakfast, Wei Ying does the dishes quickly and joins Lan Zhan out in the garden. They plant all sorts of vegetables and flowers. Springtime has always been Wei Ying’s favorite time of year. Not only does it mean that they can expand their garden and restart the growing process, but it means more time spent watching Lan Zhan do what she loves.
Moving out to the countryside had been a mutual decision. There was so much love and peace in the solitude of the mountains. The clear sky at night is also a plus, seeing the way the moonlight plays along Lan Zhan’s hair as she dances under the stars.
After the morning chores are done and the chickens are happy and fed, Lan Zhan lifts Wei Ying up from behind. She spins her around in circles.
“Aiya, Lan Zhan! Put me down!” Wei Ying can’t help but giggle as she weightlessly spins around and around.
Lan Zhan stops spinning her around and turns Wei Ying to face her. She wipes a bit of fresh soil from her fingertips onto Wei Ying’s cheek. Smiling, she kisses her forehead. “How about a picnic?”
Wei Ying nods, still feeling giggly. “Sure!” She doesn’t wipe the soil off her face.
On their way out of the garden, Wei Ying picks up the sprinkler hose. “Over here!”
Lan Zhan turns around. Wei Ying points the hose and sprays it wildly at Lan Zhan, instantly soaking her purple romper. Wei Ying erupts in laughter, chasing her around the garden. Lan Zhan gets ahold of the hose and returns the favor.
They squeal and skip across the now muddy ground. It paints their soles with grass stains and leaves them tumbling into each other. They kiss and entangle their fingers in each other’s soaked hair. They don’t stop tasting one another until their rooster crows. Wei Ying chuckles, looking down at him. “What? You jealous?”
Lan Zhan presses a soft kiss to Wei Ying’s forehead. “He probably is.”
Wei Ying laughs and continues speaking to the rooster. “Well, Mr. Muffin…” She takes Lan Zhan’s hand in hers and holds it up, pointing to the rose gold ring on Lan Zhan’s finger. “She’s mine.”
Mr. Muffin crows once more, tilting his head. Lan Zhan points to Wei Ying’s ring, looking down at Mr. Muffin. “I know. I got lucky, didn’t I?”
Wei Ying blushes and playfully pushes Lan Zhan’s shoulder. “Stop! You’re embarrassing me!”
“Wei Ying, we’ve been married for five years.”
“And you still manage to make me flustered.” Wei Ying boops Lan Zhan’s nose and races toward the porch. She calls out behind her. “Last one inside has to carry the picnic basket up the hill!”
Lan Zhan lets Wei Ying win.
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“And here is yours.” Lan Zhan hands Wei Ying a wicker tray stacked with buttery biscuits and an array of jams and jellies. Wei Ying hums happily as she spreads a marmalade onto one of the biscuits. She kicks her feet up behind her, giddy from taking her first bite.
As they snack under the sun, Lan Zhan jots small poems and notes down in her journal. These journals are scattered around the cottage in perfect chaos. Everywhere you look there’s bound to be another one. Wei Ying leans over to rest her head in Lan Zhan’s lap. “What are you writing today?”
“A recipe.”
Wei Ying’s eyes light up. “A recipe for what?” She takes a strand of Lan Zhan’s hair and lazily starts braiding it. “Something sweet, I hope.”
“Of course. It’s for you.” Lan Zhan runs her free hand up and down Wei Ying’s thighs, tracing borderless shapes across her tan skin.
Wei Ying beams. “I can’t wait to try it!”
Lan Zhan finishes writing and sets down her pencil and notebook. She smiles down at Wei Ying, her eyes crinkling into the shape of the crescent moon. “Would you like to have it now?”
Wei Ying sits up and claps her hands together. “You brought the stuff to make it?”
Lan Zhan nods and takes two mason jars out of the picnic basket. She carefully lays out a few other jars. She hides the labels from Wei Ying as she makes them. Wei Ying tries sitting up to sneak a peak over Lan Zhan’s shoulder.
“No peeking.”
Wei Ying fakes a pout, slumping back down into the soft blanket. “Aw, no fair.”
The clinking sounds of a spoon stirring peak Wei Ying’s interest so much that she can’t handle waiting much longer. She could never understand how Lan Zhan was so patient. Wei Ying never has been. “I wanna see!”
“All right. It’s almost done.” Lan Zhan turns, holding the two mason jars in her hands. She sets them down and takes out one last container from the basket.
Wei Ying leans in and closes her eyes. “I know this smell!”
“Mn. It’s one of your favorites.” Lan Zhan takes a spoonful of caramel and stirs it into the drink. “There.” She hands one of the mason jars to Wei Ying. “Tell me what you think.”
Wei Ying takes a sip. It’s delightfully sweet with a delicate, salty aftertaste. It immediately comforts her.
Lan Zhan, with a satisfied grin on her face, takes a sip of her drink and leans back onto the blanket. “It’s called caramel milk. I added a bit of sea salt, too. I steamed the milk and did all of the prep while you were in the shower this morning. It needed to chill a bit before we got up here.”
“I know something smelled good when I got out! I thought it was one of those new candles you got from the farmers market last week.” Wei Ying takes another large sip, savoring the sweetness. “It’s so yummy.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
Wei Ying nods. “Well, if I didn’t like it I know you would tear out the page you wrote the recipe on from your notebook and throw it into our fireplace.” She sighs, falling back onto Lan Zhan’s stomach after taking her final sip of the caramel milk. “I still remember that blue cheese bread recipe you made that I hated.” She giggles. “You were so angry that you threw the whole loaf pan outside. Then we forgot about it and had a raccoon infestation for a month.”
Lan Zhan blushes, embarrassed. “I hated that you didn’t like it.”
Wei Ying perches herself up above Lan Zhan’s head and runs her fingers down her cheek. “I know. I’m sorry.” She smiles evilly. “But the raccoons enjoyed it!”
“Wei Ying!” Lan Zhan feigns anger and flips them over, trading their spots. She holds Wei Ying down beneath her. Wei Ying looks up at her and wiggles her eyebrows. Lan Zhan sighs. “You’re hopeless.”
Wei Ying smirks. “Hopelessly in love with you.”
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The sunset paints the sky in a warm array of colors. Wei Ying and Lan Zhan cuddle up on the blanket and watch as the birds flock to the faraway trees for the night.
Wei Ying taps aimlessly on Lan Zhan’s thigh. “Hey. Can I ask you something?”
A crisp, cool wind blows through the grass. Lan Zhan nods, tangling her fingers in the soft tulle of Wei Ying’s sleeve. “Of course.”
“Do you have any regrets?”
“Not meeting you sooner.” The answer is quick and matter-of-fact. Lan Zhan’s eyes remain trained on the sky above.
The silence between them after that is comfortable. The breeze whistles through the blooming flowers and the grass. Wei Ying shivers slightly.
“Are you cold, my love?”
Wei Ying shakes her head, cuddling closer to Lan Zhan. “No. I’m alright.”
Lan Zhan gets out an extra blanket, anyway. She drapes it over the two of them.
Had it always been this cold inside of her? No, the ice of loneliness had melted long ago. She still feels it. The warmth in her heart.
Wei Ying watches as the stars start to come out. They twinkle in the sky, bright and free. She burrows in the crook of Lan Zhan’s neck. “Life is easy…” Her words fall into nothing. She sniffles. Lan Zhan starts stroking her hair.
Wei Ying tries again. She speaks through soft sobs. “What I mean is… life is easy with you here and when you leave, it will be hard again.”
No answer comes. Lan Zhan’s eyes are closed. Her expression is one of pure bliss. Her fingers continue to comb through the frizzy tangles of Wei Ying’s hair.
Salty tears fall down Wei Ying’s face. She wrinkles the space between them, getting as close as she can. Lan Zhan’s body is warm and comforting. “I can’t live without you, Lan Zhan. I can’t… I won’t. I refuse.”
“I’ll still be here.” Lan Zhan’s voice is misty. Her fingers stop moving.
Wei Ying’s sobs become uncontrollable. “I-I can’t have you just in my heart. I need you to hold… I want to listen to your voice. I want to hear you sing more and play your kalimba… I want you to keep sewing me beautiful lace dresses that I don’t deserve. I’ll eat your gross blue cheese bread. I…”
Lan Zhan holds onto Wei Ying’s waist and sits them both up. Her expression is one of pure adoration. Her eyes glisten with the reflection of the starlight and the dimples on her face are deep as she smiles. “You had me for as long as I could give. I’m sorry that it wasn’t enough. I wanted to stay longer, too.”
Wei Ying breaks. Her heart shatters as she pulls Lan Zhan into an embrace. She grips her shoulders as tightly as she can, digging her fingers into the back of Lan Zhan’s top. “P-please don’t leave me again. I love you… I love you…”
Lan Zhan rubs Wei Ying’s back. She manages to put just enough space between them to rest her forehead onto Wei Ying’s. She hums quietly. It does little to comfort Wei Ying’s anguish. She starts to whisper something.
The melodies of the songbirds in the distance get louder, drowning out Lan Zhan’s final words.
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When Wei Ying wakes up, the sky is light again… but this time she has trouble sitting up. Her bones creak and ache. She picks up the walking stick next to her and uses it to get up onto her feet.
The familiar creek flows nearby and the birds continue their songs like always. The rock with the blooming perennials has a name etched into it now. Bouquets both fresh and faded rest around it.
It takes her almost an hour to safely descend the hill and get back to the cottage. Mr. Muffin does not call out to her to say hello. The garden has since grown over, reclaimed by the land around it.
No one is on the porch sitting in the clementine chair. It’s lonely, but Wei Ying is content. She had, after all, spent so many years in this exact spot laughing and skipping through the sunlight that would stream in through the tired beams.
She steps inside and sets the walking stick down just inside the door. She takes off her coat and hangs it up on a hook dotted with patina.
A small picture sits on a shelf by the coat rack, faded with age. Wei Ying slowly lifts it and kisses the frame. She smiles, running her shaking thumb over the face she still adores.
“I’m back from my morning walk, love.”
She sets the photograph back down onto the shelf, accidentally knocking down a small box that had been sitting next to it. She groans in pain as she bends down. Her long gray hair drapes over her shoulders.
She lifts up the box and a small piece of paper falls out. She stands, box and paper in hand. Smiling softly at the words caramel milk, she places the paper back inside.
She returns the box to its resting place on the shelf. The handwritten label on it reads recipes for my blossom.
She makes her way to the living room and sinks into the yellow loveseat. Dust made visible by the morning sun cascading through the large windows dances in the air.
Wei Ying closes her eyes and sighs. “What recipe should I dream of next?”