*Ten-year age gap
Not pseudo-incest: the older woman wasn't adopted. She was simply acknowledged as a granddaughter, and the girl was already eighteen when they met.
Blurb:
The first time Xiang Zhinian crossed the threshold of the old teahouse, her grandmother took her hand and pointed to a graceful woman in a dark green dress, washing tea leaves in the distance. "Call her big sister."
The woman was her grandmother's god-granddaughter. At twenty-four, she was already as composed as the well-steeped tea in the teahouse.
Under the locust tree outside, Xiang Zhinian linked little fingers with her and promised to get into a high school in Xinan for next year's entrance exams.
Her big sister smiled and agreed.
The seasons turned, but they couldn't hide the young girl's growing feelings.
Xiang Zhinian thought she was the one chasing after love.
She didn't know that, with the passage of time,
she had long since become the unspeakable spring in Xiao Suiyu's heart.
Xiao Suiyu let herself give in, fully aware of it, finding happiness even in the pain.
Xiang Zhinian pressed forward, step by step,
leaving a scorching mark on the festering wound in her heart,
and bringing one spring after another to her frozen, lifeless days.
Spring has come. The locust blossoms in the courtyard are blooming again.
Interlude:
In the old teahouse, the storyteller was speaking passionately onstage. He struck the block on the table and declared, "The mountain has trees, and the trees have branches. My heart delights in you, but do you know? All else in this world is but a passing cloud. Only deep affection never fades."
"When a woman loves someone so deeply and has set her heart on her, they should share a bed in life and a grave in death. Even if it's the underworld, I'll go with you!"
In the dim stairwell, the damp, rotting wooden post pressed against Xiang Zhinian's back, leaving it red. She rested against Xiao Suiyu's shoulder, panting softly.
"Big sister, let's go to the underworld together."
Theme: The locust blossom symbolizes secret love.
