Chapter 37.3: The Dreamlike Encounter

After that phone call, he had stopped thinking of her as "Mom."

He didn’t want to keep wondering whether that night had been Li Lan’s final outburst or a last flicker of twisted affection brought on by her illness. He was tired.

She had said he wasn’t the son she wanted—but when had she ever been the mother he needed?

Two mentally ill people, each desperate to wring love and support from the other, always end up inflicting pain.

The boy had made up his mind to shed the mask he wore in front of Li Lan.

When you truly have nothing, you instinctively cling to whatever scraps you can grab. But now, he was ready to let go.

The girl looked at him and opened her right hand.

In her palm were five clear marks from fingernails digging into flesh, the wounds now scabbed over.

It meant that after clawing at him that night, she’d clawed herself too.

Li Zhuiyuan lowered his gaze and took her hand, his voice low and firm. “You don’t get a next time either.”

The girl nodded.

As his fingers brushed the scabs in her palm, Li Zhuiyuan knew—no phrase like “childhood friends,” “grew up together,” or even “crush” could define what they were.

Because both he and she were gamblers.

Once you’ve tasted the high of winning, you refuse to accept the loss. You crawl back to the table again.

They simply couldn’t stand to lose.

Both wanted to be normal. Both couldn’t bear not to be. That’s why he had gone to find her. That’s why she had returned.

Li Zhuiyuan figured Li Lan would’ve hated this kind of mindset—but it didn’t matter. Because Ah Li didn’t mind either.

Sometimes, thinking in blunt, oversimplified ways can make a person seem cold. But often, when two people are struggling to get along, it’s because they’re overthinking everything.

Hand in hand, the two of them went down the stairs.

Ah Li was happy. Li Zhuiyuan could feel her little hand swinging in his. Especially at the stairwell corners, she seemed on the verge of tiptoeing into a twirl—she didn’t do it, but he imagined it anyway.

Out in the courtyard, Liu Yumei dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

She had peeked through the window the night before. Her anxiety had gotten the better of her and she’d spoken too soon. Worse, her granddaughter hadn’t reacted at all—just turned around and gone back to sleep.

But the girl had soon drifted off again.

Liu Yumei increasingly felt the years catching up to her. She didn’t understand young people anymore. Back when her own grandfather had courted her, it had been dramatic enough to nearly spark a feud between the Qin and Liu families.

Who’d have thought this generation would be so reserved?

Still, her granddaughter seemed better now. She prayed there’d be no setbacks, no relapses, until the girl was truly well.

Yes, the boy had talked about rune carving, hadn’t he? This afternoon, she’d personally take an axe to all the memorial tablets at home and send them off with incense rolls.

Maybe her joy was too overwhelming to allow suspicion to take root. She didn’t ask how the boy had managed to summon a Dead Sinker.

Or maybe she had her suspicions all along and simply chose not to care. Frankly, if she weren’t worried about misfortune biting back, she’d even help the boy cover up a murder, just to protect her granddaughter’s recovery.

Because she’d figured it out—the key to the girl’s improvement was that boy.

Not that Li Sanjiang’s blessings were useless. It was precisely because they were living in Li Sanjiang’s house that they had met the boy in the first place.

Li Sanjiang came down for breakfast, spotted the two kids sitting together, and couldn’t help but sigh:

“See? Kids’ feelings really are the purest.”

Then he glanced at Liu Yumei wiping her tears in the distance and muttered under his breath:

“Keep trying to stop them, you petty old hag.”

Li Sanjiang had never cared much for Liu Yumei. He couldn’t stand the way she carried herself like a fallen landed gentry lady. After all, he, Li Sanjiang, had once fought for the liberation of the people!

After breakfast, Li Zhuiyuan checked on the workshop he’d built. The tools and materials had already been organized. Aunt Liu really was a capable steward.

He left Runsheng in the workshop to begin processing the basic materials. It wasn’t hard, just time-consuming.

Runsheng was working with gusto—after all, they were building a whole new set of tools just for him.

Given Runsheng’s strength, Li Zhuiyuan planned to adjust the materials and dimensions accordingly. Which meant the processing load would increase too.

All day, except for a quick lunch break, Runsheng stayed in the workshop. He didn’t even glance at the TV.

Li Zhuiyuan, having already revised the new set of blueprints, sat on the terrace with a book.

He wasn’t rushing anymore. He dreaded that burnt-out feeling. Push too hard, too often, and he’d end up looking more dead than the Dead Sinkers.

So really, he was reading just to unwind.

Beside him sat Qin Li, holding “The Qin Family’s Guide to Viewing Flood Dragons.” Downstairs, Granny Liu sipped tea and looked up at them with a gentle smile.

Li Zhuiyuan had considered telling her about the Qin and Liu families’ latest insights into talisman-drawing. But in the end, he held back. Not yet. He wanted to finish reading the books in the basement first—who knew what other family legacies might be hidden there?

In the afternoon, he and Qin Li played several rounds of chess, then headed downstairs. With snacks and drinks at their side, they watched TV together.

With the TV tyrant gone, they could watch as long as they liked.

But just watching TV got dull. Li Zhuiyuan considered taking Qin Li to a movie. The theaters were nearly empty outside holidays, so no risk of her interacting with strangers.

After lunch, Li Sanjiang had gone out. When he came back and saw Li Zhuiyuan not studying, he wasn’t mad at all. Quite the opposite—he was pleased. He felt Little Yuanhou was finally bouncing back from losing his household registration.

Around 5:30 p.m., a motorcycle pulled up. The rider removed his helmet—it was Tan Yunlong. After greeting Li Sanjiang, he easily got Li Zhuiyuan onto the bike and sped off with a smooth turn down the slope.

Tan Yunlong drove more recklessly than Uncle Qin. Luckily, this time, Li Zhuiyuan had a helmet.

At the police residence block, Tan Yunlong led him up to the third floor. A woman in an apron stepped out of the kitchen—middle-aged, plainly dressed, and warm.

“This must be Xiaoyuan?”

“Hello, Auntie.”

“Such a polite boy. Just call me Aunt Zheng.”

Tan Yunlong asked, “Where’s Binbin?”

“He’s in his room doing homework.”

Tan Yunlong opened the door. At a desk sat a tall high schooler in uniform, head down, writing.

He walked over and rested his hand on the desk.

Tan Wenbin’s posture shifted slightly.

Then, Tan Yunlong opened the pencil case and pulled out a handheld Tetris game—still paused mid-screen.

Tan Wenbin dropped his head, avoiding his father’s gaze.

Maybe because a guest was present, Tan Yunlong didn’t explode. Instead, he pulled out a handful of jelly cups, set them on the desk, and handed two to Li Zhuiyuan.

Li Zhuiyuan quietly peeled one open and ate it. He could tell the father-son relationship wasn’t great. Maybe Wenbin had liked jelly as a kid, but who still gave jelly to a high school senior?

Still, Wenbin obligingly ate one too. It felt like a staged moment of familial warmth.

Watching it, Li Zhuiyuan sighed inwardly. Even if it was staged, there was still warmth beneath it. Unlike him and Li Lan—no feelings at all, just pure performance.

“This is Xiaoyuan, Li Zhuiyuan. Xiaoyuan, this is the son I told you about, Tan Wenbin. You can call him Binbin.”

“Hello, Xiaoyuan.”

“Hi, Binbin-ge.”

“Here, give Xiaoyuan a blank test to work on.”

“What? He’s doing one?”

“Yes.”

“Oh… this one then.” Tan Wenbin pulled out a math sheet from the stack.

High school curriculums wrapped by the second year. The third year was just review and drills.

“Good. Now, come outside with me.”

“Dad…”

“Out.” As Tan Yunlong walked out, he began to unbuckle his belt.

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