Chapter 875

Just as Professor Drake recorded, Mr. Roland the poet's experience occurred this year, in the spring of 1853.

It was a sunny day, and Mr. Roland, carrying his notebook and hiding a small knife for self-defense on his person, went to the wetland lake area west of Huntington City for an outing to collect inspiration.

Although his main profession was as a translator, Mr. Roland had a wide circle of friends. While passing by his good friend Mr. Cedric's apple orchard, he wandered through it casually, preparing to brew a short poem themed around the frost on the trees in winter.

And when he reached the depths of the orchard's woods, a human face suddenly appeared on a tree beside him—or more accurately, the grain and cracks on the tree trunk formed a human face:

"I know this is hard to believe, but I am certain that it was not a hallucination caused by being drunk."

Mr. Roland in the tavern defended himself with this sentence while holding his glass:

"I usually do not drink when I write poetry."

Just like the fisherman in Lower Lu Se Village who was frightened by a talking snake, Mr. Roland in the spring, even though he was more cultured than a village peasant, was still frightened by such a strange occurrence.

He described to Xia De his panicked state of mind at the time, and his desperate attempt to flee:

"I don't remember how long I ran, but I could not escape that woods no matter what. Yes, I feel that since the autumn of 1850, when I was chased for three blocks by a stray dog on the street, I had never engaged in such strenuous exercise."

Mr. Roland recalled, while Xia De nodded and recorded, feeling that these magical experiences were even more interesting than the goddess of the lake herself.

The human face on the tree could move across the trunk, so when Mr. Roland no longer had the strength to move forward, the face on the trunk spoke again.

"It sounded like it was singing at the time, just like in a fairy tale. I cannot describe the sound the tree made, but the song was roughly asking me: as spring is about to arrive and the winter snow is about to melt, wouldn't that snow look very pitiful?"

The poet said, taking a large gulp of his drink. The ale in this kind of small tavern did not have a high alcohol content, so there was no need to worry about getting drunk.

"Then how did you answer at the time?"

Xia De asked curiously, and Mr. Roland drew circles in the air with his right index finger, humming softly:

"Snow is the messenger of winter; when spring arrives, they should rightfully yield their place, allowing flowers and sunlight to come into the world."

This kind of phrasing was indeed very much in the tone of a poet.

"Then if it were you, Mr. Watson, how would you answer?"

The poet asked Xia De again, and Xia De thought for a moment:

"The snow has not disappeared, but has turned into water, moistening the earth in the spring. It will evaporate back into the sky in the coming summer, fall as rain in the autumn, and turn back into snow to cover the earth in the winter. This is a cycle; the snow has not died."

Mr. Roland smiled:

"Do you mind if I write down your words?"

After answering the question from the face on the tree, the face seemed very satisfied with the poet's response. Then the ground shook, and the trees that had trapped Mr. Roland cleared a small path toward the surroundings.

Mr. Roland, who had been trapped in the woods, walked in fear along that path to the end, where he saw a lake.

"I immediately thought of the legend of the goddess of the lake. Mr. Watson, I am a local; although I am just a commoner, my family has lived and spread in this area for five generations. I grew up listening to local stories, so it was easy for me to associate it with those wonderful rumors."

"Did you walk across the ice to the island in the center of the lake?"

Xia De asked, but the poet shook his head slightly:

"No, no, spring had already arrived at that time, and there was no ice on the lake. However, there was a small boat moored by the shore. When I sat in the boat, I didn't even need to row; it automatically carried me, gliding across the silk-like surface of the lake, toward the island in the center, which was full of vitality and life."

He squinted his eyes, enjoying his memories.

Xia De nodded and recorded this in his notebook again. It seemed that the season of that lake corresponded to the real world, rather than forever remaining in the winter state described by the one-eyed fisherman, Mr. Grayford:

"Next question: what did you encounter on the island in the center of the lake?"

"I encountered a middle-aged lady wearing a white robe and leaning on a white oak cane. Although she was dressed very simply, I feel that even the queen in the newspapers is not as beautiful as she was."

This point was different from the account of old Mr. Grayford in Lower Lu Se Village; the fisherman had encountered an old woman.

"You made a wish to her?"

"Yes, but before that, she asked me to compose a poem for her to praise her beauty, which was not difficult for me. Or rather, even if she hadn't asked me to do so, I would still have written a poem; her beauty is beyond compare."

The poet said nostalgically.

"After finishing the poem, she asked me if I had any wishes. My head was so dizzy with excitement at the time that I intended to say 'talent,' but then I felt that my talent was already very outstanding, and to ask for more talent would be unfair to other poets."

"Yes."

Xia De secretly held back a laugh.

"So, in the end, I made a wish to that lady for luck."

He pointed to the cards beside the wine glass on the table.

"And then you left?"

"Yes. Later, when I went to look for that lake again, I could never find it. But this extraordinary luck did indeed appear upon me."

Mr. Roland sighed, holding his wine glass with his intact left hand, and clinked it with Xia De's:

"A wonderful story, isn't it? But I don't want to share it with anyone because I don't want those greedy people to disturb that lady's peace."

Xia De frowned and took a sip of his wine, satisfied with the watered-down drink; it tasted somewhat like grape juice:

"I noticed that in your story, you didn't mention how your fingers became like this."

"Actually, in my memory, I cannot find the reason why I am missing these two fingers."

Mr. Roland shook his head, looking equally puzzled:

"It seems they have always been this way. In all my old photographs, my hands look like this, and my friends all say that when they met me, my hands were already like this. But I clearly remember that I was not born with this disability, so there must be something wrong with it, but I just can't remember."

"Is it related to the special experience this spring?"

Xia De asked, and the poet shook his head slightly:

"Perhaps it is related, I don't know."

"Then would it be convenient to tell me the address of that orchard?"

"Of course. I wish you success, Mr. Watson. But do not be greedy; yes, do not be greedy."

He took a fountain pen from his pocket, pulled over Xia De's notebook, and wrote the letters one by one in blue-black ink; this was the address of the orchard:

"What we can obtain is only what will eventually belong to us."

After finishing, he did not return Xia De's notebook immediately, but instead selected the Star 1 card, 【Karsinrick Horror Story: Jack the Headless Knight】, from his deck, and handed it to Xia De with the card tucked into the notebook:

"This belongs to you now."

"Why?"

Xia De asked curiously, picking up the Tarot card to examine it.

Mr. Roland shrugged:

"You did win against me. Since you don't want my money, then accept this card; you deserve to have it. Moreover, I believe you are the kind of person who, having received a favor from others, will definitely help others. So, please try your best to find the Lake of Cherub and let the goddess of the lake take back the luck upon me. Yes, take it back; I really cannot continue to bear this luck."

Xia De looked at the card face of the Headless Knight and smiled:

"I will; I promise you."

It was two o'clock in the afternoon when he left the tavern. This was probably the time of day with the highest temperature, but in the early winter season, the biting wind could still make one shiver.

The Cedric Orchard mentioned by Mr. Roland was a fairly large apple orchard in the western part of Huntington City. The owner of the orchard, Mr. Cedric, was not a local, but a wealthy merchant from Willendale; the orchard and bookstores were just some of his businesses.

Xia De did not want to encounter the kind of bad luck he had yesterday, so he did not take a detour to the east side of the city to find Mr. Bernhardt to write him a letter of introduction, but instead rode his horse directly to the west side of the city.

The area of the Cedric Orchard was very large, and it was impossible to enclose the entire woods with a fence. Furthermore, by winter, there were no fruits left on the branches, and even the orchard guards had no interest in patrolling, so when Xia De led his horse into the woods from the east side of the orchard, near the direction of Lake Ryan, he did not attract anyone's attention.

He still remembered what Professor Drake said—that one should not search with the goal of finding the goddess of the lake—but it was actually very difficult for him to control his thoughts. Last night he had encountered a pack of wolves and met with an accident while chasing the fleeing wolves, but there were no wild wolves in this woods that were blind enough to provoke Xia De.

Leading his horse as he strolled through the woods, with dry branches overhead and soft earth underfoot, Xia De knew that if he continued walking, he probably wouldn't find any clues. He simply found a sparse area of the woods to stop, tied the horse to a tree, and let it eat the remaining wild grass. Xia De sat down leaning against the tree trunk, then took out his notebook, intending to complete the outline of the mathematics paper he planned to write.

He had already started writing a part of it last night; if he could finish it today, he would have time to find Miss Sylvia to help him proofread it tomorrow or the day after.

The winter sun in the suburbs was just right, illuminating the notebook and the handsome young man in the black coat, who was fully immersed in the mathematical problem.

Beside him, the brown-red horse, saddled, was grazing docilely. Occasionally, it would lift its head to look into the distance, then impatiently stamp the ground with its iron shoes, as if curious about what Xia De was doing.

This was a very ordinary winter afternoon, and Xia De was looking forward to another encounter.

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