(End of Volume)
The morning breeze stole a moment of summer coolness.
Li Zhuiyuan stood by the water vat on the second floor, brushing his teeth, when he happened to see Tan Wenbin, wearing a vest and sports shorts, jogging with high knees down the dam, beginning his morning run.
This habit had been kept up by Tan Wenbin for half a year now.
Humans are indeed creatures of infinite potential.
Just a year ago, Tan Wenbin was a "wild youth," stealing money from his mother to buy gaming consoles, hiding adult comics in his textbooks, stashing explicit magazines under his covers, and pretending to be mature with a cigarette tucked behind his ear.
Now, he studied diligently during the day and trained assiduously at night, treating his daily forty-minute morning run as a form of relaxation and enjoyment—a disciplined young man.
Due to his illness, Li Zhuiyuan sometimes felt a sense of disorientation and unreality when looking at himself in the mirror.
If Tan Wenbin could see his former self from a year ago in the mirror, he might insist it was his father’s illegitimate son from a youthful indiscretion, adding, "Look at this misshapen mess—no wonder the bloodline isn’t pure."
After washing his face, Li returned to his room.
A’Li was standing at the drawing desk, painting.
The girl was painting landscapes, featuring not only grand vistas but also a dam.
The wall on this side was covered with paintings, including four or five versions of the bridge spanning the river from Nantong to Shanghai.
One version showed a bustling bridge above the river, while below, Bai Family Town was eerie and ghostly—a perfect fusion of reality and the surreal.
At the other end of the room was the boy’s desk, cluttered with professional books and stacked paper boxes below containing materials, plans, and design drawings.
These were just the ones at hand; many completed and studied items had already been sent to the east room to enrich A’Li’s collection box.
For the past six months, Xue Liangliang had essentially been Luo Gong's assistant.
Luo Gong had been on the road managing projects, often attending conferences and report meetings across the region.
Whenever they were near Nantong, Xue would find an excuse to take a day or half-day off to deliver study materials to his junior.
Tan Wenbin’s pager was reserved for messages from two people—his father, Tan Yunlong, and Xue Liangliang.
Every time Liangliang called Tan Wenbin, he would leave the materials by the Yangtze River.
Runsheng had to pedal a tricycle a long distance to retrieve the documents and design drawings, while also delivering a set of clean clothes to Tan Wenbin.
As Xue’s visits to Nantong increased, so did the materials in Li Zhuiyuan’s possession.
Besides, Luo Gong would occasionally mail journals and higher-standard non-confidential documents to Li, along with assignments requiring multiple designs to be submitted at once for review and feedback.
It was as if they were competing: one desperately absorbing knowledge, the other relentlessly fostering growth.
Li Zhuiyuan suspected that the “college-level professional courses” he was pre-studying were already somewhat beyond the curriculum.
Even the brightest genius cannot achieve mastery in any field without deeply cultivating their knowledge.
Over the past six months, Li Zhuiyuan had devoted much of his time and energy to studying—a necessity.
The elder beneath the peach forest remained alive, and as long as he did, Li had nothing else to occupy him in the village.
Even ordinary drowning cases would see Runsheng, Tan Wenbin, and Yin Meng eagerly volunteering to retrieve the bodies, leaving the old man as a hands-off overseer.
As for those “deadfalls” capable of walking ashore, they had not appeared for a long time.
If he hadn’t personally experienced them, he might have doubted whether they were delusions from his past mental instability.
When tired of drawing blueprints, Li Zhuiyuan would get up and move to A’Li’s drawing desk.
A’Li would then leave her desk and approach the boy’s study table.
Li would pick up the brush to relax through painting, while A’Li would browse through design blueprints.
The girl could understand them; otherwise, she couldn’t have painted what she did.
Moreover, she seemed to possess a unique sensitivity, capable of transforming cold, calculated blueprints into dynamic landscapes within her paintings.
Li Zhuiyuan even created a painting inspired by A’Li, though he could only depict her back as he had yet to paint her face.
In the painting, the girl stood atop a mountain peak, before her a roaring river, and below her, ancient townsfolk.
This composition would be fitting for a mural about water burials.
It served as Li Zhuiyuan’s way of entertaining himself amid his intense studies.
The next morning, the painting of the girl’s back had a boy added to her side, their hands clasped.
The artistic tone turned into something resembling children’s wall art in a kindergarten.
After all, they were still children, fundamentally no different from their peers playing with mud in the village—except that their "mud" was slightly more sophisticated.
“Qi Clan Spring and Autumn” had been entirely deciphered by Li Zhuiyuan.
As the text progressed, the difficulty of decryption increased, requiring more time and effort.
He later discovered that the book likely required a cipher to decode.
Without it, even with his exceptional reasoning and computational abilities, the effort was enormous.
For ordinary members of the Qi family, learning the text would require decades of dedication, making it improbable without the cipher.
The cipher must have been a foundational inheritance within the Qi family, akin to the Liu family's "Liu Clan Qi-Watching Technique."
Without it, Li Zhuiyuan had to resort to the most laborious method—brute-force decryption.
The book itself was a kaleidoscope of mechanisms.
Once deciphered, it detailed the Qi family's ancestral skills in mechanisms and spatial techniques, their source of livelihood.
Even within the clan, it was tightly guarded and passed down in small, controlled circles, as it contained secrets tied to countless tombs.
If leaked, it would have drawn the wrath of ancient authorities.
Though invaluable, the book held little relevance for Li Zhuiyuan now.
His expertise lay in hydraulic engineering, not security or theft prevention.
Modern large-scale hydraulic projects were typically secured by military presence.
Unlike ancient fears of grave robbers, today’s threats might come from aerial missiles.
However, while currently impractical, the text might prove useful in the future.
Family compound professors had helped decipher the bamboo slips, revealing coordinates—three still ambiguous, but their general locations were known.
The geographical spread was astonishing, spanning from the northeast to Yunnan-Guizhou, the grasslands to the Gobi Desert, the Ten Thousand Mountains to the Thousand Island Lakes, the basins to the plateaus, and even rivers, lakes, and seas.
The breadth of these locations left Li Zhuiyuan in awe as he gazed at the map.
A masked man from the Spring and Autumn period had carried these bamboo slips even in death—surely they harbored secrets.
One of the coordinates aligned closely with the "Ji'an 572 Civil Defense Project Investigation Report," suggesting a likely overlap.
It raised suspicions that Luo Gong’s long-desired ambition might be one of the nine coordinates recorded on the bamboo slips.
This led Li Zhuiyuan to wonder if the three files Li Lan had thrown at him in the capital half a year ago—pertaining to the sea, Ji'an, and Fengdu—also carried some hidden significance.
Li Lan, now fully overtaken by her affliction and considering herself stripped of humanity, still pursued her work.
What was she seeking? Li Zhuiyuan found it hard to fathom her motives or dare to align his thinking with hers.
But it was evident that deeper forces drew her forward.
As always, Liu Ayi’s voice broke the morning:
“Time for breakfast!”
Li Zhuiyuan took A’Li’s hand and descended the stairs.
A small blackboard hung on the side of the living room door, originally used for recording orders—tables and chairs for one household, paper effigies for another.
Most of the time, it lay idle.
Three months ago, Li Sanjiang had solemnly cleaned the board, picked up a piece of chalk, and written meticulously: "壶百天" (Hundred Days).
After being told he had written "one" wrong, he erased it and replaced it with "100 days," continuing to decrement in Arabic numerals thereafter.
The board wasn’t for his great-grandson; the boy had already been admitted early, with the relevant documents enshrined in a small compartment under the portrait of Confucius.
No, the countdown was for Zhuangzhuang.
Today’s board showed a fresh "3."
Tan Wenbin returned from his morning run, washed off at the well, and changed into clean clothes.
Though his training in corpse-retrieval techniques only enhanced his physical fitness—a stark contrast to freakish talents like Runsheng—Tan Wenbin, coming from a police lineage with robust genetics, had worked hard and eaten well.
Shirtless, he no longer looked like a scrawny "white-cut chicken" but had developed visibly strong muscles.
Yin Meng’s coffin craftsmanship was impeccable.
Sleeping in one truly brought warmth in winter and coolness in summer.
Every night, Tan Wenbin and Runsheng slept in coffins—one crafted by Li Sanjiang, the other by Shan Da Ye.
The latter’s coffin remained here because Li Sanjiang feared that sending it home might lead to Shan Pao pawning it after gambling losses.
Whenever Shan Pao passed away, Runsheng could deliver the coffin then; it wouldn’t be too late.
Runsheng wholeheartedly agreed.
“Why is tomorrow a holiday?” Li Sanjiang asked, puzzled, while smoking. “The college entrance exam is just around the corner.”
Tan Wenbin replied, “Grandpa, our school isn’t an exam center. We’ll need to go to the test site, so they’re giving us two days to prepare and move in. We’ll stay in the site’s dormitories.”
“Can we deliver food there?”
“Yes, if we don’t stay in the dormitories, we can even return home.”
“That’s good.” Li Sanjiang flicked his ash. “I’ll have Tinghou prepare sticky rice cakes and dumplings to deliver on the morning of the exams.”
“Hehe,” Tan Wenbin didn’t refuse, only smiled.
“Do your best!” Li Sanjiang patted Zhuangzhuang’s shoulder. “Studying is good, truly good!”
“Don’t worry, Grandpa. I’ll do fine. I’ve already filled in your address for the admission letter. After you’ve seen it, I’ll take it home to show my parents.”
“Ha!” Li Sanjiang burst out laughing. “Zhuangzhuang, well done. My food wasn’t wasted on you!”
After breakfast, Runsheng brought out the tricycle.
Li Zhuiyuan and A’Li climbed aboard to head to the school’s final pep rally before the exams.
The school gate and teaching buildings still displayed banners congratulating Li Zhuiyuan on winning the national mathematics competition.
Older banners for city and provincial awards also looked fresh, as the school regularly replaced them.
“小远, A’Li and I will wait nearby,” Runsheng gestured toward a small alley in the distance.
“Mm.” Li Zhuiyuan nodded, then turned to A’Li still seated on the tricycle, “Later, we’ll go shopping and then grab some fried skewers.”
The girl nodded.
Though officially on break the next day, after the morning rally, students could go straight home to prepare.
Tan Wenbin would also be released.
Holding a book, Li Zhuiyuan walked into the school.
Last semester, he had occasionally returned for exams, but this term, this was his first visit to campus.
The school didn’t press him to attend classes or exams, only occasionally inquired about his intentions through Tan Wenbin.
Straightaway, Li headed to the principal’s office.
Along the way, he attracted many teachers’ attention.
If they saw him daily, it would become mundane, but this was his first appearance since winning the national mathematics award.
Sun Qing had prepared for this moment, waiting in the office instead of her classroom.
Seeing Li arrive, she immediately took his hand, smiling, “Let me have a look. Oh, it’s been so long! Our dear student Zhuiyuan has grown taller!”
Calling herself "class teacher" already felt odd.
That "long time no see" to her own student was even more peculiar.
However, the surrounding teachers envied her and didn’t nitpick her phrasing.
In their shoes, anyone would lose composure for a chance to claim a future top scorer as their class student.
Such credentials would elevate their resume regardless of how infrequent the student attended.
Sun Qing led Li to the office, where other subject teachers awaited.
The room even had a camera set up.
Li Zhuiyuan stood at the center, maintaining a smile as his position shifted through countless group photo combinations.
Afterwards, even he found his face sore despite his great composure.
Then, Wu Xinhang led him to the auditorium.
Facing the audience, Li was seated at the central table flanked by the principal and vice-principal.
The hall filled with senior students, many wearing bright yellow talismans from the "Zhuiyuan Secret Manuscript" for luck.
The front two rows of boys went further, sticking the talismans to their foreheads, hoping to absorb the genius’s fortune.
It looked as though two neat rows of “deadfalls” sat there.
In moments tied to personal stakes, young people could be more superstitious than the elderly.
Li Zhuiyuan noticed Tan Wenbin in the crowd pulling faces at him.
Soon, Zhou Yun Yun approached, and a boy beside Tan made room for her.
The principal and other teachers gave speeches.
Unlike the motivational rally a hundred days prior, this gathering aimed to ease students’ nerves, emphasizing that the college entrance exam wasn’t the only path in life.
Teachers also offered practical test-taking tips.
Wu Xinhang whispered to Li, “Would you like to say a few words?”
Making the final address, Li delivered a concise joke:
“Remember to start answer questions with the word ‘Solution.’”
At first, the students were puzzled.
Then came laughter, applause, and the waving of talismans and secret manuscripts.
Afterwards, surrounded by the principal, teachers, and staff, Li Zhuiyuan was accompanied to the school gate.
The surrounding sentiment was somber, as everyone understood that this departure marked the end of his time in this small school.
Grateful for the school’s care, Li paused near the flowerbed by the gate.
Ignoring the "Keep Out" sign, he stepped into the flowerbed, bent under the ginkgo tree, and picked a few leaves to press into his book.
This was why he had brought the book in the first place.
Wu Xinhang removed his glasses, crying.
The teachers also wiped their eyes.
The younger ones, seeing the principal cry, followed suit.
Though not deeply attached, their tears weren’t insincere.
Sometimes, tears fall simply to leave a moist imprint in the book of life for later reflection.
Meanwhile, chaos erupted in the senior classrooms.
Students tore their papers and notes, tossing them down the stairs.
Downstairs, and in the middle school across the way, younger students peered over balconies, watching their seniors act out, feeling both envy and anticipation.
Teachers refrained from intervening, and the janitors cheerfully began collecting the scraps for recycling.
Tan Wenbin lounged back, feet on his desk, watching the commotion.
If not for meeting Xiaoyuan-ge and experiencing the events of half a year ago, he would have been the loudest troublemaker leading the chaos.
While others maintained some composure amidst the mayhem, he might have torn every textbook, leaving himself unprepared in the final two days.
Now, he found his classmates endearing but felt no urge to join.
Thanks to Xiaoyuan-ge’s guidance, his mock exam results were consistently high, ranking among the class’s best.
To him, the college entrance exam two days away was just a procedural step, nothing to fret over.
Zhou Yun Yun, seated in Li Zhuiyuan’s former spot, hesitated before mustering the courage to lean close to Tan Wenbin and softly confess:
“Tan Wenbin, I like you.”
Tan Wenbin heard her clearly.
His first instinct was to pretend not to have heard.
But thinking that would be inappropriate, he turned to face her.
Zhou Yun Yun showed no shyness or retreat, looking at him boldly.
Instinctively, Tan Wenbin felt like teasing her with a smirk, lifting her chin, and mimicking a villainous voice, “Come, lass, give me a smile.”
Instead, he extended an arm, lightly patting her back in a half-embrace.
Many classmates witnessed this but didn’t tease; the moment was too pure, more akin to a farewell between friends.
“Let’s both work hard and get into good universities!”
Without a promise or rejection, it felt more like a blessing.
Zhou Yun Yun returned the embrace without hesitation, and for a brief moment, their scents mingled.
Youth—when expressed—leaves no regrets.
Tan Wenbin then grabbed his bag, casually leaping over desks to retrieve a potted plant.
Afterward, he dashed through the crowd, shouting.
After the revelry, there was inevitable melancholy.
When they finally sat down to eat fried skewers after shopping, Tan Wenbin fiddled with a toothpick, slowly shredding the last two pieces of fried tofu on his plate.
Li Zhuiyuan handed a napkin to A’Li, wiping the sauce from her mouth, then turned to Tan Wenbin, teasing: “Rejected by the class monitor after confessing?”
Tan Wenbin: “Mhm.”
Runsheng glanced at Wenbin without commenting, taking another bite of his chicken skewer.
The corner stall they chose was quiet, allowing A’Li to eat in peace.
Li Zhuiyuan said, “If it’s your choice, don’t regret it.”
“No regrets.” Tan Wenbin gulped his soda, letting out a belch. “Xiaoyuan-ge, our future is to be deadfalls in the vast seas—only then can my biceps training be justified!”
Li Zhuiyuan’s gaze shifted to Tan Wenbin’s overstuffed bag, bulging from the potted plant once adorning Zheng Haiyang’s desk.
Wenbin hadn’t forgotten some things, which was what Li Zhuiyuan admired most about him.
After all, Li himself could even sever ties with his own mother.
Just then, a few ruffians whistling nearby grabbed two younger students at the adjacent table, demanding money.
Tan Wenbin grabbed his sauce-covered plate and slammed it over one thug’s head.
As the thug turned, Wenbin kicked him squarely in the chest, sending him sprawling.
A follow-up kick sent the thug rolling away.
The techniques meant for deadfalls were devastating on the living.
The thug’s two companions grabbed makeshift weapons—a bottle of citric acid and a skewer.
Runsheng glanced at Li Zhuiyuan, who nodded while biting into a sausage A’Li handed him.
Runsheng stood and approached.
Tan Wenbin, cursing, retreated behind Runsheng—not out of fear but because he couldn’t risk injuring his hands before the exams.
In no time, the ruffians were lying on the ground, spitting blood and wailing for the police.
Runsheng calmly used his toe to count the teeth scattered on the ground.
Finding the count insufficient, he stomped on the mouth of the thug with the most intact teeth.
“Spit, spit!”
Once the thug spat out more teeth, Runsheng finally seemed satisfied.
At that moment, a police car approached, likely passing by on unrelated business, noticing the commotion.
Tan Wenbin slung his bag over his shoulder and gave a whistle.
Nudging Runsheng with his elbow, he said, “Time to go; the cops are here.”
Runsheng glanced at the approaching car and replied, “That’s your dad.”
The car door opened, and Tan Yunlong stepped out, removing his cap as he approached.
Without a word, he delivered several swift kicks to Tan Wenbin.
Having just pointed out the car, Wenbin had inadvertently mouthed "cops" through the window—something his father clearly noticed.
“Hey! Hey! Ow!”
Wenbin dodged as best he could, knowing his father controlled his kicks to target only the shins—painful but harmless.
After venting, Tan Yunlong asked, “What happened?”
“Thugs demanding protection money.”
“You beat them like this?”
“It was righteous heroism—for a harmonious society.”
The two extorted students had initially fled but returned to testify upon seeing the police intervening, afraid of a misunderstanding.
Tan Yunlong said, “Tonight, your mom and I are delivering sticky rice cakes to Grandpa Li’s. Your mom even dug out her old cheongsam.”
“Can she still fit into that cheongsam?”
“I secretly had it altered by a tailor.”
“Well done, Captain Tan.”
“Any more lip?”
“No, sir! Just marveling at your foresight—without which, I wouldn’t exist!”
“Good luck on your exams.”
“Yes, sir!”
…
The exam site was at Pingchao High School.
Tan Wenbin joined his classmates on the bus arranged by their school and stayed in the dormitory vacated by lower-grade students.
Early the next morning, he waited at the gate, where parents gathered, bringing breakfast.
Eating sticky rice cakes, Tan muttered, “Grandpa, you made Runsheng pedal all this way early in the morning? This is far.”
“No, Principal Wu drove Xiaoyuan to the test site, and I hitched a ride.”
“What about Xiaoyuan? Did he eat? Oh wait, he doesn’t need this.”
“Of course he ate; it’s an exam, after all. Principal Wu brought some, too.”
“Alright, I’m done eating, Grandpa.”
“Good luck, Zhuangzhuang. Skip the tough questions and focus on what you know—just do your best…”
Patiently, Tan listened to Li Sanjiang’s nagging.
When the elder finally paused, Tan embraced him and said, “I understand, Grandpa.”
Li Sanjiang smiled.
Though Xiaoyuan was his favorite, Zhuangzhuang’s lively temperament suited him perfectly.
As Zhuangzhuang walked away, the old man waved, calling out, “Do your best, child.”
While other teachers managed their students' admission tickets, Li Zhuiyuan’s were personally handled by Principal Wu.
Upon disembarking, Wu handed Li his pencil case and exam ticket.
The first subject, Chinese, took longer than usual as Li Zhuiyuan made an effort to write beautifully.
For the second subject, math, Li quickly finished the paper.
Before submitting it early, he reviewed it from the perspective of his own question-setting logic.
His eyes narrowed.
From Tan Wenbin’s standpoint, this math paper was exceedingly difficult.
In fact, it seemed exceptionally challenging for any student in this year’s cohort.
Whoever set this paper must harbor a grudge, Li mused.
Though everyone faced the same difficulty, less resilient students might break down after math, their mindset unraveling.
After submitting his paper, Li returned to Principal Wu’s car, where the latter handed him a meal from a thermos.
“Principal, this math paper was tough,” Li remarked.
“Huh?” Wu was startled.
If the national mathematics competition winner found it difficult, how bad could it be for everyone else?
“For ordinary students.”
“Oh, I see.” Wu relaxed but quickly grew concerned. “I’ll look into it.”
While Li ate and napped in the car, he awoke to the sound of crying outside.
Looking out, he saw many students sobbing after the math exam.
Even more unnerving were the few students laughing hysterically, as though enlightened in their despair.
Wu Xinhang returned to the car, wiping his sweat and grumbling, “Turns out a student tried to leak the original test paper and got caught. They used the backup paper instead—insanely difficult. I’ve already asked teachers to console the students.”
“Principal, who prepared the backup paper?”
“Don’t know yet, but I bet they’ll be cursed by students for decades.”
After the final afternoon exam, Li requested to wait for Tan Wenbin.
“Dorm beds can’t compare to coffins at home,” Wenbin joked.
Principal Wu chuckled, assuming it was a playful exaggeration.
“Other subjects were fine, but this math exam was brutal. A few big questions stumped me completely, so I just followed your advice—write ‘Solution’ first, then cram in all the relevant formulas.”
“They’ll award partial credit.”
“Really?” Wenbin asked, blinking skeptically. “This is math, not language or politics.”
Wu perked up, eager to hear more.
“The exam is for ranking. When grading such a tough paper, they’ll balance the score distribution. Even writing ‘Solution’ might earn you extra points.”
Wenbin smirked. “Then our school’s strategy this year might pay off. Before the exam, most of us followed your advice to write ‘Solution’ first on all the problems.”
Principal Wu honked the car horn cheerfully: “Beep beep beep!”
…
After the exams, there was nothing to do but await results since preferences had already been filled.
Li Zhuiyuan began preparing for college life, starting by bringing out the dozen or so boxes of books stored in his great-grandfather’s basement to air them out.
His recent influx of books, files, and blueprints had left the basement untouched for months.
But now that he was heading to Jinling, he had to select a few sets to take along.
Runsheng, Yin Meng, and Tan Wenbin busied themselves carrying the boxes upstairs to the second floor, unpacking and spreading the contents for Li’s selection.
Though the dam offered more space, Granny Liu was there drinking tea, and Li didn’t want to embarrass himself by accidentally exposing any Qin or Liu clan techniques in front of her.
However, he stumbled upon something even more embarrassing.
The “Qi Clan General Guide.”
Flipping through it, Li froze in place for a long time.
After painstakingly decrypting the other text, he realized the cipher book had been in his basement all along?
Fortunately, there was no textual version of the "Qi Clan Spring and Autumn" down there.
Otherwise, he might have lost it completely.
He reassured himself that brute-forcing the decryption was itself a form of learning, deepening his understanding and enabling quicker mastery of the Qi clan’s mechanical and spatial techniques.
Most of the books in the basement were theoretical, concerning philosophy, health, energy cultivation, and various esoteric practices.
While valuable, they weren’t immediately relevant to a teenager, so he set them aside.
Instead, he focused on practical texts, choosing three sets: The Classics of Miasma, The Outline of Qi Forms, and The Earth Store Sutra.
While Wei Zhengdao’s books discussed dispelling miasma and the Qin and Liu clans provided qi-watching techniques, they lacked practical examples.
These first two books offered concrete case studies for solidifying his foundation.
The third text, The Earth Store Sutra, covered advanced techniques for traversing the underworld.
His foundational training in the Twelve Yin Techniques provided the basics; this book promised to elevate his skills.
The title page read:
“One who masters this method may tread the Yellow Springs and hear the Buddha’s teachings at his seat.”
Though hyperbolic, it hinted at the book’s value.
Everything in the basement had proven reliable thus far.
Li Zhuiyuan was disappointed not to find more of Wei Zhengdao’s works or anything from the Qin or Liu clans.
Moreover, he sensed that simply “reading” to improve had reached its limits.
True inheritance relied on mentors.
Even in today’s industrialized world, skilled technicians were essential to prevent knowledge from being lost.
For instance, the materials Luo Gong sent were beyond textbooks; each dataset and design represented countless contributions from contemporary experts.
Runsheng and the others re-packed the categorized books and returned them to the basement.
These books were treasures.
Though valuable now, they’d fetch even higher prices as antiques in the future, especially those written on Buddhist parchment, a favorite of Wei Zhengdao’s.
In a way, Great-Grandpa had been living atop a gold mine.
But Li Sanjiang seemed unconcerned about wealth.
Even if his fortune increased tenfold, his lifestyle wouldn’t change.
When Li returned from washing his hands at the well, he found his great-grandfather seated in a corner of the dam, jotting something down.
“Great-Grandpa, what are you calculating?”
“Budgeting your tuition.”
“My tuition is waived.”
“What about dorm and book fees?”
“Also waived.”
“Living expenses…”
“Covered by scholarships.”
“So you’re going to college without costing the family a cent?”
“I might even make money.”
“Hmph!”
Li Sanjiang threw down his pen, crossing his arms.
Sending his great-grandson to college was a financial burden, but also a source of pride.
Now, that joy was taken from him.
He had imagined a routine of visiting the post office each month to send money, proudly showing off the receipt while lamenting, “Ah, just sending some money to our little prodigy.”
If the child called for emergency funds, he would gladly scrape together more to send immediately.
Now, that dream was shattered.
Li Zhuiyuan hugged his great-grandfather’s neck.
“Great-Grandpa, I’ll need money for books, supplies, new clothes, and even competing with classmates. You still have to send me money every month.”
Sanjiang’s frown lifted.
“I can’t let city kids look down on me. So, Great-Grandpa, you’ll still need to support me.”
Sanjiang nodded emphatically. “Right! That’s the spirit!”
In the distance, Granny Liu nearly spat out her tea, dabbing her mouth with a handkerchief.
“That rascal has mastered the art of coaxing his great-grandfather,” she remarked to Liu Ayi.
“Here he comes,” Liu replied softly.
Li Zhuiyuan approached, noticing the tea had cooled.
He brewed a fresh pot.
“Granny Liu, will you stay here after I leave for college?”
“What does your college have to do with me?”
“But—”
“Don’t ‘but’ me. What, do you think you’re some big deal?”
“You’re absolutely right.”
“Remember, don’t overestimate yourself. It leads to hard falls.”
“Thank you for the advice; I’ll keep it in mind.”
“Now go away and stop bothering me.”
“Got it!”
He ran off.
Granny Liu sipped her tea, muttering, “That brat…”
She turned to Liu Ayi. “We have a house in Jinling, right?”
“Yes, but it’s a bit far from Haihe University.”
“Then buy one nearby.”
“Understood.”
“It’s for A’Li’s sake. Over the past year, her condition has improved significantly. While her reserved nature is understandable given her upbringing, why can’t she speak yet? At the very least, that boy needs to help her recover her speech.”
“Will you take him as a formal disciple, then? That’d mean leaving here.”
“No rush. We’re the ones seeking his help now. Offering discipleship outright would complicate matters. Once we’re in Jinling, place the ‘Liu Clan Qi-Watching Manual’ on his desk. When he struggles to understand it, he’ll come asking for help, and we’ll go from there.”
“Wise as always.”
“Kids, no matter how smart, are still kids.”
Liu chuckled.
She could tell that the boy had deliberately sought Granny Liu’s scolding for reassurance.
While the old woman mocked Li Sanjiang for being played, she was just as deftly handled.
That evening, the postman arrived by bicycle, shouting across the fields:
“He’s in! He’s in!”
Back then, even vocational school acceptance warranted a banquet, let alone a prestigious university.
Tan Wenbin immediately dropped his chopsticks and rushed out, but Li Sanjiang stopped him, pulling out two packs of cigarettes and tossing one unopened pack to Tan.
“Go!”
“Yes, sir!”
Tan returned with his acceptance letter—he had made it into Haihe University.
Though unsurprised, given his stable performance despite the challenging math exam, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement.
Crossing the field, he held the letter aloft, shouting, “I got in! I got in!”
The evening meal ended in laughter, and the festivities continued late into the night.
Finally, everyone retired—some to beds, others to coffins.
After showering, Li Zhuiyuan visited his great-grandfather’s room.
Sanjiang was on the bed, counting money.
“Great-Grandpa.”
“Hmm?” He nodded. “This is for Zhuangzhuang’s congratulatory gift.”
“Got it.”
“Runsheng and Yin Meng are joining you in Jinling?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll set aside rent money. No problem.”
“Liangliang-ge already has a place near the university. I’ll stay on campus while they live there. Besides, he’s rarely home.”
“But staying in someone else’s place can be inconvenient.”
“Tan’s father is renting Wenbin’s place—that was his pre-exam condition.”
“Alright, Zhuangzhuang isn’t an outsider.”
“Great-Grandpa, will you feel lonely after we leave?”
“You’re just going to college; it’s not like you won’t visit during breaks. Don’t worry about me. In my youth, I was always out and about, rarely home.”
“What about the household?”
“I’ve arranged for your grandparents to move in. Your grandpa’s still capable of farming, and your grandma can handle cooking.”
“You know Liu Ayi’s leaving?”
“She’s already pickled several vats of vegetables and stockpiled paper effigies—her intentions are clear. I’ll look for a replacement soon.”
“Great-Grandpa, as long as you’ve got it sorted.”
“Kid, don’t worry about me. If I fall ill or pass, I won’t hide it from you.”
“Understood.”
“Oh, one more thing. I’ve made a will for the property, but the house and peach forest weren’t included. I’ll hold another gathering with the village chief to include those.”
Li Zhuiyuan knew that Ding Dalin’s family had been gone for nearly a year.
Sanjiang exhaled smoke, clicking his tongue. “It might seem unsavory, but we must avoid disputes. If I pass, the arrangements must be clear.”
Two days later, Sanjiang hosted a small banquet, finalizing the updated will with witnesses.
That evening, slightly drunk, he was carried home by Runsheng, who then set up offerings at the peach forest.
While Wei Zhengdao’s friend had sinister motives, his actions undeniably benefited the area.
Despite internal complaints, his presence ensured a year of peace.
Li Zhuiyuan performed a minor consecration ritual—not truly a consecration, more akin to villagers offering sacrifices to river gods.
Burning incense, reciting sutras, and pouring wine, Li’s gestures were symbolic.
When he poured his wine, the soil beneath absorbed it entirely, leaving no trace.
“Before you, I encountered deadfalls frequently. Now, I’m leaving for college, where I’ll undoubtedly face many. I’ll use the techniques you taught. But I won’t end up like you. I’m smarter, luckier, and more talented. We’ll see in a few years. If all’s well here, I won’t return.”
The once-black soil turned blood-red before fading again.
Afterwards, Tan mimicked Li’s snapping gesture, though his lacked supernatural intent.
Li intended his words as a challenge: Keep the village safe, and I’ll stay away, sparing us both.
For all intents, his great-grandfather was his only family here, and even he didn’t need the elder’s protection.
Ultimately, it was the arrangement’s ambiguity that provided mutual security.
The group stopped by Zhang’s shop to call Liangliang.
After confirming arrangements, Liangliang offered to drive a truck to fetch them.
A few days after their departure, Liu formally resigned, and the family held a modest farewell dinner.
Sanjiang handed her two extra envelopes—one for her and one for A’Li.
After their move, Li’s grandparents settled in, ensuring a smooth transition.
Soon, a woman named Xiao Yingying arrived seeking work, proving adept at paper crafts.
Thus concluded the volume.