Chapter 9: Going Home (Part 1)

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After bidding farewell to Richie at the airport, Tang Mi took a taxi to her home in the countryside, while Richie was transferring flights to Hawaii for his two-month “woman-hunting trip.”

After over three hours of bumpy driving and listening to the taxi driver’s “brilliant” theories on weather, traffic, poetry, politics, grapevine genetic modification, and the measurements of the First Lady, Tang Mi finally arrived at her destination just as dusk was falling.

The car stopped in front of the large, ancient iron gate of “Black Truffle Manor.” Amidst the driver’s constant chatter, she paid the fare and tip, unloaded her luggage, and then stood among the piles of boxes to ring the doorbell.

The doorbell was shaped like a grapevine cluster, the bright brass having darkened over the years with wear, and as her finger pressed it, the breeze, carrying the twilight, swept through her hair like flowing time.

Tang Mi felt her body gradually shrinking, and everything around her softened to a warm, yellowish hue of memory. She couldn’t help but press her face against the railing, her hands placed parallel on it, creating the simplest of frames for a scene.

Through the small window, she could see the sandy-white driveway narrowing and extending between beech trees and oaks, eventually disappearing into a grove bathed in the early summer twilight. At the end, a small brick-red spire rose from the green shade, its triangular top reflecting the smoke-purple sky, like the last coordinate of a journey.

This was the first time Tang Mi had seen Black Truffle Manor, and she was only seven years old at the time. She had just been taken out of the orphanage by her foster father, Ma Jin, and suffered from moderate autism. She refused to speak to anyone except animals and would only communicate through drawings and writing when necessary. Standing outside the iron gate, Ma Jin asked her, “Do you like it here?” She lowered her head without answering. After dinner, she handed him a drawing.

The drawing depicted the driveway, the trees, and the roof she had seen earlier through the gate. But what was special about it was that she didn’t fill the entire page; instead, she…

In the drawing, she didn’t fill the entire page. Instead, she placed all the scenery inside a square frame, with the area outside the frame entirely shaded black.

“Have you studied sketching?” Ma Jin asked, somewhat surprised. Although the drawing was still quite childish, it displayed a strong sense of perspective.

Tang Mi shook her head.

“Do you like drawing?” Ma Jin asked again.

She nodded, her gaze calm.

“Do you like taking photos?”

Tang Mi raised her face, and a light sparkled in her dark eyes, like Christmas fireworks suddenly igniting, bright and joyful with an unexpected cheerfulness.

That night, she showed her first smile in two years.

In the following days, Tang Mi received her first camera, one that completely belonged to her—a vintage Leica M series, along with about ten rolls of soon-to-expire film. Ma Jin took her through the nearby valleys and vineyards, teaching her how to use the camera to capture the morning creek, the grapevines in the sunset, and the lavender swaying in the breeze, but more often, it was the animals in the woods—nimble and slightly shy—that captured her attention.

On days when she didn’t have to go to school, she spent all her time wandering and photographing the forest and fields. Her quiet and introverted nature meant that she rarely had peers her age, but she didn’t feel lonely. Wild boars, rabbits, foxes, and large groups of doves were her best friends. She could roll and play with them in the grass without a care, or quietly sit against a tree, pouring her heart out to the moonlight.

Whenever this happened, Ma Jin would always stand not far away, watching her with his light gray eyes that reflected a warm and loving smile. The scattered light filtered through the tree shadows, falling on his broad shoulders and casting a tall silhouette on the ground, giving off a sense of simple security, much like the oak tree in the forest.

“Ma Jin,” Tang Mi lifted her head, and the image of her adoptive father in her memory merged with the reality before her.

She smiled as she pushed open the iron gate and threw her arms around his slightly stooped but still broad shoulders.

“Tang, you’ve finally come back. How long has it been this time? A century, or two?

I remember when you left, Mrs. Melissa’s son had just gotten married. Now, her granddaughter is already going on dates with boys,” Ma Jin said, pulling her close, his gray brows furrowed as if in a bit of sorrow, but the corners of his mouth were raised in undisguised joy.

“No, Ma Jin, I actually only left for half a year. Did Mrs. Melissa’s granddaughter really go on dates with boys while sucking on a pacifier?” Tang Mi countered with a wry smile, noting that her adoptive father’s naïve nature hadn’t changed at all. His body was still strong, though there was a barely noticeable wrinkle at the corner of his eye.

“You really have no sense of humor. Men don’t like women who never smile. If this goes on, decades from now my daughter will turn into a stiff old maid, just like Sister Amanda,” Ma Jin rambled on as they walked, clearly worried that Tang Mi might never get married.

“Being an old maid wouldn’t be so bad. That way, I could be with you forever,” Tang Mi murmured softly, leaning against his arm, her voice carrying the same gentle tone she used as a child when she would playfully cling to the oak tree.

The sunset slanted across the driveway, casting the softest side light on the tall and short figures, while the brick-red roof stood proudly at the end of the path. A large group of night herons flew overhead, calling out with “eh, eh” sounds, signaling the return home.

After placing the last piece of black truffle on her plate, Tang Mi contentedly put down her fork, picked up her wine glass, took a sip, and sighed with satisfaction, “Mrs. Ronaldo’s cooking is always so amazing. Only here can you find the best food in the world!”

“She’s been the head chef at Black Truffle Manor for nearly twenty years and has never missed a beat. Even on the day Mr. Ronaldo passed away, the quality remained the same,”

“You came back just in time to taste the first batch of freshly picked black truffles from the manor,” Ma Jin said, looking at Tang Mi’s happy expression. He then lit the first cigar of the coffee session.

Tang Mi nodded eagerly in agreement. The manor earned its name mainly because of the large truffle forest growing behind it, but also because of the best black truffle chef in all of Country C, Mrs. Ronaldo, at least according to her.

Ma Jin’s ancestors had made a living by harvesting black truffles for generations. However, in his time, he had rented out the business to a specialized truffle company and only collected a commission, allowing him to fully dedicate himself to his passion for energy research.

Ma Jin was an outstanding energy scientist, dedicated to exploring high-temperature rock bodies for clean energy development. However, a major accident occurred ten years ago, deeply affecting him, and he stopped his research, retreating to his ancestral home in the countryside for a semi-retired life.

“How’s the work with the environmental organizations lately?” Tang Mi wiped her mouth. In recent years, Ma Jin had been invited by Greenpeace to serve as an honorary advisor. Although he didn’t have to work regularly at the city’s branch, his input and advice were still needed for geological energy issues.

“It’s okay, but the geothermal energy development project in Country Z is really troubling,” Ma Jin said, furrowing his brow. He took a deep drag from his cigar, and his face, obscured by the smoke, appeared weary.

“What’s wrong with that project? Isn’t geothermal development a good thing? Africa has long struggled with an energy shortage, which is one of the key reasons for its productivity lag. Their population is 15% of the world’s, but their electricity consumption is only 3%,” Tang Mi looked at him, puzzled.