Rrakavasha returned to the bamboo house and opened an encrypted safe, retrieving a specialized medication. He swallowed one pill.
Soon, his appearance reverted to that of a young man.
This way his body felt considerably better, no different from any teenager, though it was only temporary...
"Meow~"
A soft, cotton-like call sounded at his feet, the drawn-out note gently tugging at his attention.
The sensation of smooth, fluffy fur brushed against his ankle. Rrakavasha looked down to find an orange tabby sitting beside his foot, gazing up at him.
Those pupils, usually so utterly lazy, now seemed to hold a trace of worry.
"I'm fine."
Returning the medication to the safe, Rrakavasha bent down and scooped up the cat, rubbing its head.
"Time to go on a diet, Little Orange."
"Meow~~"
Little Orange responded softly, as if saying, next time for sure.
"In a hundred days, I won't be able to take care of you like this anymore. Being overweight isn't good for your health, understood?"
Little Orange seemed to comprehend, or perhaps not entirely, nuzzling its head affectionately against Rrakavasha's palm.
Its fuzzy paws rested on his wrist, giving off a distinct air of reluctance.
Rrakavasha smiled faintly, carrying Little Orange to the window sill where he sat down.
He reached for the zhongruan hanging nearby, his slender fingers gently plucking the strings.
Gentle tones flowed forth, melding into the late autumn breeze.
Outside the window, green bamboo swayed gracefully, still holding its verdant color while occasional pale yellow leaves drifted down.
Far off on the mountainside, the plum grove had quietly begun gathering its delicate fragrance for winter's bloom.
Little Orange sprawled across Rrakavasha's lap. As the slightly cool wind passed through the window, the cat unconsciously curled into a ball.
Amid the melodious notes, Little Orange's breathing gradually became more rhythmic.
Evening bamboo's sparse leaves bid farewell to green shadows; autumn window's cold strings carry solitary sounds.
Wind passed through the bamboo tips, scattering the final lingering notes and stirring Rrakavasha's thoughts.
Ruan Mei loved the ruan, this particular instrument.
She'd never deliberately taught Rrakavasha to play it, yet through constant exposure, he'd taught himself.
Seeing this, Ruan Mei had given him a zhongruan of his own.
She also loved delicate, fragrant pastries, especially those made with plum blossom ingredients.
Again, she'd never deliberately taught him, but he'd still learned on his own, spending years perfecting his craft until he could make desserts that even she couldn't find fault with.
From that point until his graduation, he was responsible for their daily meals.
Most of what she taught him involved Biology.
Reflecting on these warm memories, Rrakavasha couldn't help feeling moved.
This life of his had been unfortunate, yet also fortunate.
At age six, he collapsed alongside several groups of refugees fleeing war, infected with a lethal virus.
The blurred face he saw before closing his eyes was Ruan Mei's.
The blurred face he saw upon opening them was also Ruan Mei's.
"Do you want to live?"
She'd asked this, her tone hollow and emotionless.
"...Yes..."
He'd answered simply, a single word containing nothing but the will to survive.
And so, Rrakavasha lived.
Ruan Mei made no promises, but spent several years successfully analyzing the virus and curing him, her experimental subject.
At eleven, he became Ruan Mei's student.
He learned quickly and absorbed much. His days were fulfilling.
At eighteen, she became angry for the first, and only, time, severely punishing Rrakavasha for his mistake.
The details escape him; he only remembers, that it had something to do with breaking protocol.
"Meow~"
Little Orange suddenly jumped to the floor.
Rrakavasha snapped out of his reverie and glanced at the sky, surprise flickering through his eyes.
Carefully hanging the zhongruan back in its place, he headed toward the door.
A young woman in a deep purple dress was approaching the bamboo house, leading a middle-aged woman wearing a veil whose gaze seemed somewhat vacant.
"Mr. Rrakavasha!"
Catching sight of that tall, slender figure, the young woman waved from a distance, her expression rather complicated.
Equal parts hopeful and uneasy.
Rrakavasha understood why the two had come. As they vame closer, he nodded with a smile.
"Follow me."
The young woman navigated the familiar path, leading her mother as they followed Rrakavasha into the bamboo house and through a hidden passage.
No one viewing it from outside would ever imagine that this ordinary bamboo house concealed a fully-equipped medical facility.
"Please lie down, Mrs. Durand."
The middle-aged woman met his eyes which radiated peace and kindness, the confusion on her face undiminished as she unconsciously turned to the young woman beside her.
"Mother, Mr.Rrakavasha is the doctor treating your condition. Don't worry, you'll remember soon."
"Ah, alright..." Mrs. Durand complied.
After a series of examinations, the diagnostic results showed slight variations from previous visits.
Fitting the treatment device onto Mrs. Durand's head, Rrakavasha pressed a button and closed the medical pod to begin treatment.
"This session will last seventeen hours. You should wait outside."
"...Three additional hours this time? That's..." Clarice looked anxious, worry flashing across her delicate features.
"Don't worry. Judging by your complexion, you haven't eaten yet. Have something first." He gently patted Clarice's pale purple hair.
The young woman's full name was Clarice Durand, a resident of a neighboring world.
After years of searching for a cure for her mother's amnesia, she'd finally tracked down, through various rumors, a reclusive hermit living in the remote mountains of a neighboring planet: Rrakavasha.
Mrs. Durand had been receiving treatment from Rrakavasha for five years now, with her condition steadily worsening.
From initially visiting once a year, she now came every two months.
The required treatment time had also been steadily increasing.
Living Room
The pastries that usually tasted exquisite held little flavor for Clarice now.
Most of her thoughts were occupied with her mother's illness.
At this rate, there would eventually come a day when her Mother would completely forget everyone, including herself, and never remember again.
Watching the young woman chew mechanically, Rrakavasha sighed inwardly and poured her a cup of plum blossom wine.
Less than two years aged.
Even his underaged self back then wouldn't have gotten drunk on this.
The clear, faintly yellow wine gave off a fresh, captivating fragrance.
Just from breathing in the scent, Clarice unconsciously drained half the cup, a faint flush rising to her pretty face.
The elegant plum blossom aroma lingered on her lips and teeth, somewhat easing the worry in her heart.
"Thank you, Mr.Rrakavasha..."
"Cough cough cough, "
Before Clarice could finish expressing her gratitude, Rrakavasha suddenly coughed violently, turning away to cover his mouth and suppress the discomfort.
"Mr.Rrakavasha, are you alright?!" Tension and concern flashed across Clarice's face.
Glancing at the crimson staining his palm, Rrakavasha shook his head imperceptibly, his tone unchanged.
"...It's nothing. Winter's approaching, probably caught a chill last night."