Chapter 467 Honeymoon Trip
Willow and Mitchell's honeymoon trip began with a flight to Frostpine, followed by a two-hour bus ride to their destination. The bus traversed layers of valleys and winding mountain roads before finally reaching their destination. Although the journey made them feel a bit tired, it all seemed worth it once they arrived.
This was an undeveloped small village, a niche tourist destination that retained its pristine folk customs and ancient architecture. The village was located in a national nature reserve, surrounded by rolling mountains and mist. Outside the village were endless terraced tea gardens, encircled by mountains and separated by rivers, protecting this quaint and tranquil village.
This unique ethnic village was also a famous cultural heritage site, and it was rare to find a small town that could so vividly depict the beauty of nature.
After entering the village, Willow and Mitchell found a homestay to settle in. There were only two homestays in the village, one at each end, both of similar size and owned by the same young man.
He was a college graduate who returned to the village to run the homestay and promote local tourism. Mitchell had found the travel guide written by the homestay owner online, but they only realized this after staying for two or three days.
Willow and Mitchell chose the homestay inside the village, as Willow felt it would be closer to the village and allow them to better experience the traditional ethnic culture.
Upon checking in, the owner brought them a plate of local specialty baked cakes. Willow tried one and was amazed by its unassuming yet delicious taste, something she had never experienced before. She fed a small piece to Mitchell. With sparkling eyes, she asked him with a smile, "Is it good?"
Mitchell chewed a few times, elegantly and gracefully, and nodded with a smile. He replied, "Yes, it's good."
Willow then grinned. She readily agreed, "I think it's really good too."
She had another piece while Mitchell packed their luggage, looking at her indulgently and smiled. After finishing the cakes, Willow joined him in packing their belongings. JK Group's wedding leave was a week, so they had packed quite a bit, filling two large suitcases.
After packing, it was still not dinner time. Willow eagerly pulled Mitchell to go out, rushing out without a coat. He stopped her, took a down jacket, put it on her, and wrapped a scarf around her before putting on his own coat and held her hand as they went out.
Walking hand in hand through the quiet village, they saw open doors of every household, with elderly people making handicrafts at their doorsteps and there were children occasionally running and playing. They also encountered tourists with cameras, some couples and some solo travelers.
They wandered aimlessly, slowly walking up the winding paths. They saw a wooden bridge, and Willow pulled Mitchell onto it. From the bridge, they could see most of the village, hidden in the mountains like a paradise. Mitchell had brought his camera and had taken countless photos of Willow along the way, mostly candid shots. In his lens, she was always smiling carefree, like a child.
On their way back to the homestay, Willow accidentally discovered a batik shop in the village. Inside, rows of blue-patterned batik fabrics were hanging, deeply distracting her. Under the skillful hands of the batik master, the fabric became a canvas, the wax knife as a brush, and the indigo was the paint. From youth to old age, the master created precious ethnic treasures with natural dyes, different from any artificial dyes, natural and beautiful.
When Willow and Mitchell entered, the batik master warmly welcomed them and asked if they were interested in experiencing batik. Willow's eyes lit up, and she looked at Mitchell for his opinion.
Mitchell affectionately squeezed her hand and smiled. He encouraged, "Let's try it."
Willow excitedly followed the master into the backyard, discovering that the small front display room was just a part of it, and the backyard was a hidden gem.
Rows of dyed fabrics hung neatly in the yard, creating a spectacular and impressive sight.
Willow sat down with the master and carefully followed each step: preparing the dye, choosing the wax knife, drawing with wax, dyeing, removing the wax, and fixing the color. The process was quite complex. While she was focused on her work, Mitchell stood behind her like a guardian knight, silently watching over her.
The batik master, seeing Mitchell standing there, smiled and said, "Is that your husband? He looks like a gentleman with a good temper. It's rare to see such patient young people nowadays. You are also very patient, and you two look very compatible."
Willow looked up at Mitchell, who was also looking at her. Their eyes met across several meters, and they smiled at each other. She nodded slightly and said to the master, "Yes, he's my husband. He's really wonderful."
It was the first time she called Mitchell her husband in front of others, and she felt a subtle feeling, softening her heart and filling her with pride. She couldn't help but look up at him again, thinking that this excellent man was her husband.
When it came time to draw the patterns, Willow was so focused and absorbed that she didn't realize it was already dark when they started fixing the color.
The batik master, knowing they were staying for a few days, told her to come back tomorrow to pick up the finished product, as the dyeing process would take two or three hours, and it was too late today. Willow ran to Mitchell with an apologetic look, not expecting it to take so long and forgetting they hadn't had dinner yet.
"Honey, I'm sorry, it seems I took too long," Willow said with her head down.
She had gotten used to calling Mitchell 'honey,' a habit Mitchell had thoroughly corrected. Now, every time she called him in her soft voice, Mitchell couldn't help but want to pull her into his arms and kiss her deeply.
So, every time they were outside and Willow called him affectionately, he had to control the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her.
It was like a sweet torment.
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