The rain stopped abruptly.
When I woke up from my nap, the clouds outside the window had dispersed, and the sunlight slanted in, baking the water stains on the floor into faint, circular marks. The inn finally quieted down, and even that dust shadow beast was gone, probably back in its old nest under the eaves sleeping.
I was just about to wipe down the kitchen when I heard three knocks on the wooden door.
"Oh dear, I don't have a reservation," a soft voice said from outside the door, somewhat familiar, yet with a hint of something old and worn.
I went to open the door.
Standing outside was an old yokai—wearing a slightly outdated green robe, his hair so fluffy it looked like it would scatter in the wind. He smiled and nodded at me, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes crinkling deeply.
"You've grown taller," he said.
I paused, a little surprised. "...You are?"
He patted his head, a little embarrassed. "Right, back then you were just this small, always pulling on me asking, 'Are you a fox in disguise?'"
In an instant, I remembered—it was a long time ago, during the first few days after we moved to the inn. At that time, I was just a kid who didn't understand anything, only knowing that there were always strange "guests" here, some with feathers, some without shadows. And he was the only "adult" who would squat down and patiently answer my endless questions.
"Old Liu Bo?" I asked, a little surprised.
"Hmmph, I almost thought you'd forgotten me."
He walked into the house, his steps a little slow. Sunlight fell on his shoulders, making him look thinner and quieter than I remembered.
We sat in the kitchen, and I brewed two cups of matcha again, this time without sugar. Old Liu Bo drank slowly, sip by sip, as if recalling something.
"This place has become so clean," he said. "When I used to come, the roof would still drop dust."
"I'm the one cleaning now," I smiled. "You taught me how to recognize those guests who didn't like to talk much back then. You even said—'These yokai also get lonely, they just don't speak human language.'"
He didn't speak, just nodded.
I mustered my courage and asked, "Then you? This time you've come back, are you... looking for someone?"
A flicker passed through his eyes, like light behind clouds.
"I'm not quite sure either," he said softly. "I just suddenly felt... as if I had forgotten something important here."
A moment of silence passed between us, and then the wind picked up again outside, causing the curtains to flutter slightly.
I picked up my cup. "Then why don't you stay for now? Take your time to think. Whether it's something you've forgotten, or something you haven't remembered yet, there's still room for you here."
He looked at me, his eyes a little moist, but he still smiled.
"You've really grown up, little innkeeper."
I smiled too, unable to say why, but at that moment, my heart felt like it was covered by a warm blanket, quiet and warm.
ns216.73.216.103da2
and then Add to home screen.