The Charismatic Charlie Wade

“You... What did you just say?!” Maria’s words hit Geena like a bolt of lightning.
It wasn’t an exaggeration; he genuinely felt a numbing sensation, from his scalp down to his toes.
According to Maria, she had witnessed the Pu’er mother tree surviving a catastrophe three hundred years ago at the edge of
Heaven Lake. Did that mean she was over three centuries old now?!
Geena found it hard to believe what he was hearing, a whirlwind of doubt swirling in his heart. Even if someone truly achieved
longevity, it was usually a gradual process.
People might begin their pursuit in their twenties or thirties, but it often took until their fifties, sixties, or even later to attain
enlightenment.
As one delved deeper into the path, their lifespan would extend, but even the oldest monks, reaching over a hundred years,
appeared no more than sixty, resembling the Marshal of the Warriors Den.
If Maria were truly over three hundred years old, she should appear at least sixty or seventy, perhaps even seventy or eighty.
How could she always maintain the appearance of seventeen or eighteen?
The implications were staggering, and Geena struggled to accept Maria’s words.
Observing Geena’s disbelief, Maria asked nervously, “My lord, do you think Nujia is playing a joke on you?”
Geena instinctively nodded, then shook his head and replied, “I’m just a little shocked...”
As he spoke, curiosity took hold, and he asked, “Why did you suddenly address me as ‘my lord’ and call yourself ‘Nujia’?”
Lin Wan’er laughed and explained, “In the past, it was customary for unmarried girls to address adult men as ‘my lord,’ and as for
‘Nujia’... in every family, unmarried girls referred to themselves as ‘Nujia,’ which means a servant or slave even, while married
women called themselves ‘concubine.’ Although those terms are no longer commonly used, I hadn’t shared this information with
you earlier, young master. Since we’re being open and honest today, it’s appropriate to use these titles.”
The words “open and honest” struck Albert, reminding him of Maria’s recent state of undress. It briefly left him feeling awkward.
Sensing Geena’s discomfort, Maria quickly said to Albert, “Please, wait a moment. I will bring something to show you!”
With those words, she rose from the bed and descended the stairs, returning with a beautifully framed scroll.

Maria approached the other side of the bed and carefully unfurled the scroll, revealing a landscape painting spanning 2.5 meters
in width and 6 meters in length.
Geena fixed his gaze on the painting, captivated by the majestic landscape unfolding before him.
The grandeur of the mountains, the Heaven Lake glistening like a mirror within the valley—the scenery on the canvas was so
vivid and lifelike that Geena was immediately drawn in.
He never expected to find such profound artistic inspiration in a landscape painting. Every stroke seemed perfect and flawless,
surpassing even the portrait of Morvel Bazin gifted by Mrs. Treadway.
And the painting skills on display were even more remarkable.
Maria pointed to the tall, flourishing tree next to Heaven Lake in the painting, using her slender hand, and said to Albert, “My lord,
this is the Pucha mother tree, the tea tree I mentioned. This is how it looked many years ago.”
Then she directed his attention to the silhouette of a person beneath the tree and continued, “This represents my family. In the
past, we would sit beneath this tea tree, enjoying tea while taking in the surrounding mountains and water.”
Geena couldn’t help but ask Maria, “Did you paint this?”
Maria nodded. “I painted this scroll a few days ago, specifically for you.”
Geena was taken aback. He hadn’t expected Maria to possess such remarkable painting skills. Just a while ago, his father-in-law
had mentioned an upcoming painting exhibition organized by the Painting and Calligraphy Association, but they couldn’t find any
outstanding works. Landscape painters from all over the country were on the verge of exploding with frustration!
In that moment, Maria suddenly grasped Geena’s right hand, the one adorned with a ring, intertwining her fingers with his. She
looked at him expectantly and said, “I dare you to take me there, to witness it with your own eyes. Let us see what it was like
three hundred years ago!”
As if understanding Maria’s words, the ring, which had remained motionless, suddenly emitted a reiki that enveloped both of
them.
In the next instant, Geena felt his vision blur. Held by Maria, he passed through an invisible gate, and a rush of cool wind greeted
his face. The scene before him sprang to life.

Now, he stood amidst the vast mountains of the southern province. The crystal-clear blue sky, the vibrant greenery, and the
billowing white clouds were within arm’s reach. Countless varieties of flowers adorned the surroundings, and the surface of
Heaven Lake reflected the azure sky, fluffy clouds, and lush mountains. The breathtaking beauty defied adequate description.
Geena scrutinized the scene, appreciating the image of Maria, sitting at a small square table beneath the Pucha mother tree,
dressed in a sky-blue gown with narrow sleeves and a horse-face skirt. Nearby, tea farmers plucked tea leaves from the
relatively low tea trees. Before descending the mountain with their baskets full of tea leaves, they respectfully bowed to the
mother tree and greeted Maria as “Miss.”
Maria recognized each of them, responding to their greetings with a smile, inquiring about their well-being.
Approaching her, the tea farmers would offer fresh tea leaves, which Maria would gently pinch between her fingers, bringing
them to her nose for a sniff. Then, she would select another piece, placing it in her mouth to savor its flavor. With expertise, she
would grade the tea leaves, offering advice on the appropriate processing techniques—drying, airing, autoclaving, and storing—
for that batch.
Grateful for her guidance, each tea farmer would express their thanks before bidding farewell.
For the first time, Geena witnessed the perfect harmony between the ancients and nature.
Just as he immersed himself in the moment, the world around him transformed from bright daylight to a night cloaked in dark
clouds.
Violent winds and torrential rain lashed at the Pucha tree, yet it stood firm, unyielding against the assault.
The wind intensified, breaking numerous branches and leaves, violently shaking the tree’s trunk.
In the midst of the tree’s fierce resistance, a thunderbolt crackled through the sky, striking the Pucha tree with a deafening bang.
Instantly, flames engulfed the tree.
Undeterred by the raging wind and rain, the fire burned ever brighter.
After about an incense stick’s worth of time, the once-vibrant mother tree turned to charcoal, devoid of life.
As if by agreement, the storm abruptly ceased, and the dark clouds dispersed, revealing a full moon above Heaven Lake. Its
pale light cast an eerie glow upon the earth.

Beneath the moonlight, a girl in a coir raincoat and bamboo hat, carrying a basket on her back, slowly approached the mother
tree step by step.
That girl was Maria.
Removing her rain hat, she picked up a charred tree trunk from the ground, holding it in her hands, and bowed to the mother tree
three times.
Without looking back, she placed the lightning-struck trunk in her basket and disappeared into the mountains.