Just as Professor Drake records, the poet Mr. Rowland's experience occurred in the spring of this year, 1853.
It was a sunny day. Mr. Roland took his notebook and a small knife for self-defense and went to the wetland lake area west of Huntington for an outing.
Although his main occupation was a translator, Mr. Roland had many friends. When he passed by the apple orchard of his good friend Mr. Cedric, he wandered around the orchard and prepared to write a poem about the frost on the trees in winter.
When he came to the depths of the orchard woods, a human face suddenly appeared on the tree beside him. To be more precise, it was the lines and cracks on the tree trunk that formed a human face:
"I know it's hard to believe, but I'm sure it wasn't just me being drunk and hallucinating."
Mr. Roland in the tavern said this, holding his glass in defense:
“I usually don’t drink when I write poetry.”
Just like the fisherman in Lower Luther Village who was frightened by the talking snake, Mr. Roland in the spring, even though he was more educated than the villagers, was still frightened by this strange thing.
He described to Shade his panic and his desperate attempt to escape:
"I don't remember how long I ran, but I couldn't get out of the woods. Yes, I feel like I haven't had such strenuous exercise since the fall of 1850 when I was chased three blocks by wild dogs on the street."
Mr. Roland recalled, and Shad nodded and took notes, feeling that these magical experiences were more interesting than the Lady of the Lake herself.
The faces on the trees could move relative to each other on the trunks, so when Mr. Roland no longer had the strength to move forward, the faces on the trunks began to speak again.
"It was singing, like something out of a fairy tale. I can't describe the sound the trees made, but the song was basically asking me, when spring comes and the winter snow melts, won't it look pathetic?"
The poet said, taking a big gulp of wine. The ale in this tavern is not strong, so there is no need to worry about getting drunk.
"So what did you say?"
Xia De asked curiously. Mr. Roland drew a circle in the air with his right index finger and hummed softly:
"Snow is the messenger of winter. When spring comes, it should give way to flowers and sunshine."
This statement sounds very much like the tone of a poet.
"And 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 does not disappear, but turns into water, soaking the earth in the spring. They will evaporate back into the sky in the following summer, fall as rain in the autumn, and turn into snow again in the winter to cover the earth. This is a cycle, and the snow is not dead."
Mr. Roland smiled:
"Do you mind if I write down your words?"
After answering the question of the human face on the tree, the human face seemed to be satisfied with the poet's answer. Then the ground shook, and the trees that surrounded Mr. Roland made way for a path around him.
Mr. Roland, who was trapped in the woods, walked along the path in fear to the end and saw a lake at the end.
"I immediately thought of the legend of the Lady of the Lake. Mr. Watson, I am a local. Although I am just a commoner, my family has lived here for five generations. I grew up listening to local stories, so it is easy for me to associate with those wonderful rumors."
"Did you walk on the ice to the island in the middle of the lake?"
Shade asked, but the poet shook his head slightly:
"No, no, it was spring, and there was no ice on the lake. However, there was a small boat parked by the lake. When I sat on the boat, I didn't even need to row the boat. It automatically carried me across the silky surface of the lake and headed for the island in the middle of the lake where everything was thriving and full of life."
He squinted his eyes, enjoying his memories.
Shade nodded and wrote it down in his notebook again. It seemed that the seasons of the lake corresponded to the real world, rather than always maintaining the winter appearance described by the one-eyed fisherman Mr. Graves:
"Next question, what did you encounter on the island in the middle of the lake?"
"I met a middle-aged lady wearing a white robe and holding a white oak cane. Although she was dressed very simply, I felt that even the queen in the newspapers was not as beautiful as her."
This is different from what old Graves of Lower Luther Village said, that the fisherman met an old woman.
"Did you make a wish to her?"
"Yes, but before that, she asked me to write a poem for her to praise her beauty, which was not difficult for me. Or rather, even if she didn't let me do it, I would still write poems, her beauty is unmatched."
The poet said with nostalgia.
"After I finished writing the poem, she asked me if I had any wishes. I was so excited that my head was a little dazed. I was going to say 'talent', but then I felt that my talent was already very outstanding. It would be unfair to other poets to ask for talent."
"Yes."
Xia De secretly suppressed his laughter.
"So I finally asked the lady for some luck."
He pointed to the cards on the table next to the wine glass.
"And then you left?"
"Yes, I went to look for the lake later, but I couldn't find it anymore. But this extraordinary luck did happen to me."
Mr. Roland sighed, held the wine glass with his intact left hand, and clinked it with Xia De:
"It'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 the peace of that lady."
Xia De frowned and took a sip of his wine. He was very satisfied with this wine mixed with water. It tasted a bit like grape juice:
"I noticed that in your story, you didn't mention how your fingers became like this."
"In fact, I have no memory of why I am missing these two fingers."
Mr. Roland shook his head, also puzzled:
"It seems like they have always been like this. In all my old photos, my hands look like this, and my friends also say that my hands were like this when they met me. But I clearly remember that I was not born with this disability, so there must be something wrong, but I just can't remember what it is."
"Is it related to the special experience this spring?"
Shade asked, and the poet shook his head slightly:
"Maybe it's related, I don't know."
"Then would you mind telling me the address of that orchard?"
"Of course, I wish you success, Mr. Watson. But don't be greedy, yes, don't be greedy."
He took a pen from his pocket, pulled out Shad's notebook, and wrote letters in his notebook with blue-black ink. This was the address of the orchard:
"We can only get what will eventually belong to us."
After finishing writing, he did not return Shad's notebook immediately. Instead, he picked out Star 1's Carsonrick Horror Story: Headless Horseman Jack from his deck, put the card in the notebook and handed it to Shad:
"This one belongs to you."
"Why?"
Shade asked curiously, picking up the Rhodes card to examine it.
Mr. Roland shrugged:
"You have indeed won me. Since you don't want my money, then take this card. You deserve it. Moreover, I think you are the kind of person who will definitely help others after receiving benefits from others. So, please try your best to find the Lake of Cherubim and let the Lady of the Lake take back my luck. Yes, take it back. I really can't afford this luck any more."
Shade looked at the card of the Headless Horseman and smiled:
"I will. I promise."
It was two o'clock in the afternoon when we left the pub. This was probably the hottest time of the day, but in early winter, the biting wind could still make people shiver.
The Cedric Orchard mentioned by Mr. Roland is a large apple orchard in the western part of Huntington. The owner of the orchard, Mr. Cedric, is not a local, but a wealthy businessman in Willendal. The orchard and bookstore are just one of his businesses.
Xia De didn't want to encounter the bad luck that happened yesterday again, so he didn't take a detour to the east of the city to find Mr. Bernhardt and ask him to write a letter of introduction for him, but rode directly to the west of the city.
Cedric's orchard was very large, and it was impossible to fence the entire forest. In addition, in winter, the trees had long lost their fruits, and even the orchard guards had no interest in patrolling. So when Shad led his horse into the forest from the east side of the orchard, near Lake Ryan, he did not attract anyone's attention.
He still remembered what Professor Drake said, that he couldn't search for the Lady of the Lake for the purpose of finding her, but it was actually difficult for him to control his thoughts. He had encountered a pack of wolves last night, and encountered an accident when chasing the fleeing wolf, but there were no wolves in this forest that were so blind as to provoke Shade.
Walking in the woods with the horse, with dry branches above his head and soft soil under his feet, Xia De knew that if he continued walking, he would probably not find any clues, so he simply stopped at a sparse woodland, tied the horse to a tree, and let it eat the remaining weeds. Xia De sat down leaning against the tree trunk, then took out his notebook and planned to complete the outline of the mathematics paper he planned to write.
He started writing part of it last night. If he could finish it today, he would have time to ask Miss Sylvia for help with proofreading tomorrow or the day after tomorrow.
The winter sun was shining brightly in the suburbs, illuminating the notebook and the handsome young man in a black coat who was concentrating on math problems.
Beside him, a reddish-brown horse with a saddle on its back was eating grass docilely. It would occasionally look up into the distance, then impatiently stamp the ground with its horseshoe, as if it was curious about what Shade was doing.
It was an ordinary winter afternoon, and Xia De was looking forward to another encounter.