Chapter 39.3: Wind and Fire

When dinner was finished, the village chief arrived.

Beaming with cheer, he chuckled, “Sanjiangshu, looks like you’ve landed yourself a fortune!”

He then produced several handwritten documents, already stamped with the village committee’s seal and bearing the signatures and thumbprints of the bearded man’s wife and eldest son.

Li Sanjiang marveled at how quickly Ding Dalin had moved—he’d already bought a retirement house?

But when he lowered his head to read the papers, his expression stiffened. “Why’d he buy the bearded guy’s house?”

Clearly greased by a middleman’s red envelope, the village chief laughed:

“Free house and fish pond, what’s not to like? He’s already paid up. If you sign this, and your conscience’s even a little black, you could kick them out the same day. Even if they tried to sue, they wouldn’t win.”

“I warned him not to buy from that family.”

“It was cheap. He might be a returned overseas Chinese, but he doesn’t seem to have struck it rich. If he had, the town would’ve just granted him new land to build on.”

“Well, you’ve got a point.”

Despite finding the house unlucky, Li Sanjiang wasn’t about to turn down a freebie. He signed and stamped the document.

Worst case, once Ding Dalin left, they could sell the house off again through Little Yuanhou.

“All right then. He seems eager to move back home. Says he’ll have it cleaned tomorrow and move in the day after. Planning to hire a full opera troupe for the festivities, invite the whole village for a feast.”

“It really has been nonstop feasting over at the bearded guy’s place lately.”

“Heh, just remember, we can gossip now, but keep your mouth shut when you're at his place with gift money and a smile. I’ll remind the rest of the village too.”

“I got it.”

“Oh, and he said he’s not accepting gift money from the villagers.”

“I’ll still give some.”

“Right—you should. It’s for your own house, after all.”

Li Sanjiang nodded, handed the village chief two cigarettes, and the chief took one.

“Well, that’s that. Sanjiangshu, I’ll head out. Enjoy your meal.”

Li Sanjiang lit a cigarette and turned to Li Zhuiyuan. “Little Yuanhou, your great-grandpa just earned you a house.”

“Thanks, Taigong.”

“This is nothing. Just wait. I’ll save up more. Before I close my eyes for good, I’ll get you one in the city too—for your wedding.”

As he spoke, Li Sanjiang deliberately glanced at Liu Yumei, who was seated at a distant table eating in silence.

In case she hadn’t heard, he raised his voice:

“When Little Yuanhou gets married, he’s living in the city, no question!”

Hmph. Let’s see that snobby old lady look down on us now.

Liu Yumei sipped her wine, unbothered. She had no interest in quarreling with a show-off like him.

The Liu and Qin families still had ancestral homes in places like Suzhou, Huai'an, and Yangzhou. Years ago, they’d even donated several of those estates to the state as cultural relics.

But just because two kids got along now didn’t mean they’d end up marrying childhood sweethearts.

All Liu Yumei cared about was curing her granddaughter’s illness. She’d never seriously considered turning that Li boy into her future grandson-in-law.

In old families, a son-in-law brought in for his virtues wasn’t chosen for being clever, but for being honest and meek.

Pick someone too shrewd and capable, and you wouldn’t be able to control him. Sooner or later, he’d devour your family’s assets and not even leave you the surname.

That night after dinner, Li Zhuiyuan drew up the design for the ritual flags.

Then he went downstairs to the kitchen and cooked ten packs of three-delicacy noodles, loading them into a washbasin for Runsheng.

Runsheng was still hammering away at ironwork late into the night. When he saw the massive bowl of noodles, capped with two thick incense sticks, he practically beamed.

After reminding him to get some rest, Li Zhuiyuan went upstairs for a bath and then to bed.

When he woke, he stretched and turned his head.

There she was—Ah Li—sitting by the door with a bowl of medicine in her hands.

She looked unexpectedly adorable in that moment.

Ah Li stood and brought the medicine over, sitting at the edge of the bed. She gently tilted the bowl toward his lips.

She was mimicking how elders once treated her—offering medicine with care.

Li Zhuiyuan accepted it gladly.

Later that morning, he washed his hair.

Li Sanjiang yawned as he came out of his room and spotted Li Zhuiyuan by the water jar. “Little Yuanhou, did a bird poop on your head or something?”

“Taigong, my hair was just feeling greasy.”

After breakfast, Li Zhuiyuan returned to his room, handed the design to Ah Li, and asked her to carve it onto the boards.

He himself began working on the scripture banners. Thanks to his past experience drawing talismans, it wasn’t hard.

And since he knew just how “effective” talismans could be, he was confident the banners would provoke, but not harm, the Little Oriole.

By noon, all the materials were ready, and Runsheng had finished the flagpoles.

The afternoon was spent assembling everything—twelve ritual flags, complete.

Li Zhuiyuan even attached a long rope to the scripture banners so Runsheng could throw them from a distance.

Li Sanjiang had thought Ding Dalin would stop by that night for a pre-move-in drink and chat. But instead of Ding, it was Tan Yunlong who arrived.

Tan Yunlong came on a motorcycle with his son Tan Wenbin in tow.

They brought gifts, bedding, and a bag of toiletries.

The city’s education bureau was about to conduct an inspection, so the town’s high school had to halt summer classes and give students a week off.

Tan Yunlong said he was busy, and his wife was about to go on a work trip. So he brought his son here to be looked after, and hopefully learn from Little Yuanhou.

Li Sanjiang misunderstood—he thought the boy was here for tutoring.

Though occasionally muddleheaded, Li Sanjiang was usually sharp. He firmly refused the living expenses Tan Yunlong offered, patting his chest and promising to take good care of the boy. Everyone understood the value of staying on good terms with the police.

Tan Yunlong crouched beside Li Zhuiyuan, patted his shoulder, and whispered:

“The two who passed out—they’re waking up soon.”

Li Zhuiyuan nodded. That meant the Water Monkeys would be surfacing soon too.

“Binbin, I’m counting on you. If he doesn’t listen, call me—I’ll beat him.”

Li Zhuiyuan turned to Tan Wenbin, who gave him a knowing grin.

Tan Yunlong left.

“Little Yuan, which room’s yours? I’m bunking with you?”

Li Zhuiyuan glanced at Runsheng. Without a word, Runsheng stepped up, took the bedding, and set up another round table beside his own, efficiently laying it out. He patted it:

“Here. You’ll sleep with me.”

Tan Wenbin, far from displeased, looked excited. “Okay!”

That night, Li Zhuiyuan went to bed early. He needed rest for the upcoming all-nighter.

Runsheng, finally done with his tasks, settled in to watch TV.

Tan Wenbin joined him. After the signal turned to static, he pulled out a game console and taught Runsheng how to play Tetris and a plane shooter.

Runsheng had a blast—until the battery died.

“Oops, I forgot to bring spares.”

“No big deal. Let’s sleep.” Runsheng turned off the light and climbed onto his table-bed.

Across from him, Tan Wenbin did the same.

The first floor was pitch dark, except for rows of paper effigies standing silent in the moonlight.

Tan Wenbin was spooked, but also thrilled.

He turned toward Runsheng, half-hidden under his blanket, and asked in a muffled voice:

“Runsheng, do you know what a Dead Sinker is?”

“I do.”

“That’s the kind of corpse that floats up in water, right?”

“What else would it be?”

“I mean, the kind that can walk back to shore after dying?”

“What else would it be?”

Hearing that, Tan Wenbin’s eyes sparkled. He quickly pulled his exposed foot under the covers.

“Runsheng, have you ever retrieved one?”

“I have.”

“You’re amazing.”

“Little Yuan is more amazing.”

“Hehe, I told my dad I came to study, but really, I just wanted to see if I could meet a Dead Sinker.”

School break was real. His mom’s business trip, not so much. The moment he suggested it, his parents agreed.

In their eyes, Li Zhuiyuan wasn’t just someone else’s kid—he was heaven-sent!

Tan Yunlong had even called the local high school to ask about transfers and skipping grades. When they asked which school his son had attended and which year, he just quoted from Li Zhuiyuan’s student file—he’d seen it before.

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