I quietly browsed through pictures of hydrangeas, still unable to determine where Basil Bertram had gone. The letter that special fan sent to Leah King contained nothing extra—just encouragement for Leah to keep working hard, with a promise to support her no matter what challenges she might face in the future.
Leah once said she had never met that special fan in person. From the time she first entered this industry, participating in small singing competitions in little towns, that fan supported her. The very first bouquet she ever received in her life was from this fan, and Leah was happy for days.
Later, when Leah gained some fame and began holding small, private concerts in bars, it was that fan who bought up the empty tickets, bringing in people who didn't even like Leah just to hear her sing. After all, there was free music and drinks.
Leah had once written back to the fan, hoping to meet and talk, but the fan always refused. After that, every letter arrived by courier, with no specific address—just a white envelope with a few simple words and a beautiful name. Leah always thought the fan was a girl and longed to meet her, but later discovered he was a man.
Although Leah repeatedly asked to meet, she was always turned down. Over the years, Leah and this fan became more like friends, so she eventually stopped bringing it up.
But I know Leah and Basil Bertram did eventually meet—except now, that memory of their meeting is gone. My only clue is the hydrangeas I saw in the prophetic dream, and that strange, gnarled old tree atop the little hill.
"What's wrong, Rachel Lan? Do you really like hydrangeas?"
We had just finished lunch. Leah King placed a cup of tea in front of me. I thanked her, and she sat beside me, smiling happily.
"Is my mysterious fan in some kind of trouble? Can you tell me?"
"I'm sorry, Miss Leah King, I can't say. It's not a small matter, but what it touches is a big problem—something like that. Someone saw him on a little hill surrounded by hydrangeas, so I want to check if that place can be found."
At that moment, Leah King seemed deep in thought beside me. After a while, she spoke.
"I feel like I've seen the place you're talking about before."
I blinked and looked at Leah King. She nodded, pressing her forehead as if she couldn't remember for the moment.
"Try to think carefully. Where did you see it?"
As I spoke, I grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, quickly sketching the scene from my dream and showing it to Leah King. She studied it for a while and then nodded in confirmation.
"I really have seen it, and it was when I was very young. I think someone took me there, but I can't remember who. I'll call the director of Willow Orphanage and ask."
With that, Leah King started searching all over for her address book. Back when cell phones weren't common, she kept important numbers there. Watching her rummage everywhere, I sighed and told her not to make such a mess—better to think first about where she put it.
"I remember seeing it once when I moved."
Leah King began searching the bedroom cabinet. I could only quietly watch the computer. After a while, Leah finally found it, hurriedly flipping through the old address book filled with numbers. After some searching, she found the right one and made a call.
"It's Willow Orphanage."
Leah King spoke excitedly, having confirmed with the former director. There really was a small hill behind Willow Orphanage, tended by the director and several volunteers, with an old tree and surrounded by hydrangeas—right there in H City. I breathed a sigh of relief.
"Why don't we head out now and go there?"
Leah King said, and I looked at her in surprise. After she got ready, putting on a mask and hat, she dragged me out the door.
We drove there in an off-road vehicle—Leah King's car. She told me that after she became famous, when the orphanage was about to be demolished by developers, she donated a million yuan to keep it running. Over the years, Leah would occasionally donate more.
Three years ago, during a low point in her career, Leah went back to visit. The old director was still there, warmly welcoming her and offering comfort.
Willow Orphanage was where Leah King grew up. When she was a teenager, she left to attend middle school in a far-off place.
After so long, Leah King seemed genuinely happy to return. The orphanage had grown to four stories, housing many children. Leah didn't visit the hillside last time, since she rarely went there as a child.
"I hated those flowers as a child. They were beautiful, but so glaring. I despised anything beautiful because I was born with nothing. After a kind stranger donated to me, I left the orphanage and never wanted to go back. That place had nothing for me—no pretty clothes, no toys, no TV. Just volunteers looking after the kids, but those volunteers were only kind for a while or wanted a bit of good reputation."
I smiled at Leah King. For some reason, after that night, our relationship improved. Maybe it was because our childhoods were somewhat similar.
"The director once told me hydrangeas stood for hope, but I've never known what hope is."
"I also grew up alone. I have parents, but because of their work, my mother was never around from the day I was born, and my father was always away for days at a time. It wasn't until a few years ago that I finally met my mother, and only recently have we enjoyed some peaceful days together as a family."
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Leah King looked at me in surprise. Her orphanage was located in the northern part of the city, near the urban area, and it would take three or four hours to get there. Before leaving, I had already told Ouyang Meng—they should have arrived ahead of us.
"Thinking about it now, maybe I was a little afraid of that tree on the hill."
I looked at Leah King—she seemed to remember a lot, her face full of joy.
As dusk approached, our car stopped at the parking lot of a gated residential area. In the distance, we could see the hill; the orphanage was on the outskirts here. Leah King and I hurried forward.
Around six o'clock, I saw a grand orphanage ahead. Laughter and the smell of dinner drifted out. As we arrived, a plainly dressed woman in her sixties, with white hair and glasses, walked over.
"Leah, long time no see! Is work keeping you busy?"
Leah King took off her sunglasses, hat, and mask, letting out a sigh of relief.
"Director, why hasn't that area in the back been cleared yet?"
A woman named Lynn Yuan, wearing a work badge, pulled Leah King aside and glanced at me. Leah immediately introduced me.
"This is my friend, Rachel Lan."
After we entered, many staff recognized Leah King and gathered around, surprised. Lynn Yuan had them take the children to dinner, then led us around the four-story, U-shaped building. As we rounded the corner, I saw it.
On the small hill ahead, there were masses of hydrangeas, though they hadn't bloomed yet this season. On both sides were vegetable gardens and play facilities for the children.
The moment I climbed the hill, I was stunned—it was exactly as I saw in my dream. That old tree, covered in knobby lumps, stood only three meters tall. According to Lynn Yuan, the tree suddenly collapsed four years ago, so they cleared away the thick branches and left the dead trunk as a decorative root carving.
I hurried over and stared at the completely withered tree, feeling a bit sad. This was just as I saw before Ouyang Meng led me into his dream—Basil Bertram leaning against the tree.
"Could Basil Bertram really be dead?"
I looked at Leah King, who followed closely behind. I could still feel Basil Bertram's power inside me, so he shouldn't be gone—but he had vanished. Where did he go? I couldn't sense anything here.
In the distance, I saw a black van approaching. In my confusion, I spotted Yvonne May in uniform and Vivian Ouyang in a pale blue work suit. After explaining to the staff, they came straight up.
I told Leah King and Lynn Yuan that these two were my colleagues, here to pick me up.
"Did my fan really come here?"
Leah King still looked puzzled and asked again. I hummed in response, not sure what to say. Vivian Ouyang and Yvonne May began investigating near the old tree.
Afterward, Lynn Yuan invited us to dinner, so we went downstairs.
After dinner, while Leah King and Lynn Yuan chatted, we went out and returned to the hillside. By then, dusk had fallen.
"About ten days ago, Basil Bertram's power completely vanished from here."
During dinner, I learned the orphanage's history. It was built thanks to a donor, and Leah King was one of its first children. When it was founded, the donor brought in a large tree, saying the land was about to be redeveloped. Though the tree was odd, a centuries-old tree is rare, so they hoped to create a patch of land for it on the hillside.
Later, Lynn Yuan began planting hydrangeas before Leah King left.