Chapter 41.3: The Will

As Li Zhuiyuan leapt up in excitement, his eyes flicked over to the levee and happened to catch Ding Dalin turning his head.

Had his earlier movement near the fish pond made the man suspicious?

From then on, Li Zhuiyuan and Tan Binbin edged closer to the levee as they played.

“Binbin-ge, I’m tired. Let’s take a break.”

“Okay.”

Without caring about the dirt and gravel on the ground, Li Zhuiyuan plopped down.

The soles of his shoes scraped against the pebbles, shifting a few aside. Beneath them, red—bloodstains.

Li Zhuiyuan quickly withdrew his foot and nudged the pebbles back into place.

His mind raced through last night’s details. Wasn’t this the exact spot where Ding Dalin had been pecked by a rooster?

He remembered clearly: the rooster had pierced straight through Ding Dalin’s palm.

“Little Yuanhou.”

“Hey, Taigong.”

Li Zhuiyuan ran up the levee to Li Sanjiang.

The land lease discussion had mostly wrapped up. Now they were talking about drafting a will, with the village head jotting things down with paper and pen.

An elderly man nearby asked, “Sanjianghou, is it really appropriate to give everything to the kid? Shouldn’t you leave it to someone who can care for you in old age?”

“I’ve already arranged that.”

“Can you really count on it?”

“Yes.”

They were all elderly—there was no need to tiptoe around these topics.

Li Sanjiang had absolute faith in Li Weihan’s character. But Li Weihan had many sons and even more grandchildren. If he handed everything to Weihan, chances were those greedy kids would tear off their share. That, he couldn’t bear to see.

The village head finished writing. “Since everyone’s here—principal and witnesses alike—let’s go ahead and stamp the handprints. Do you have a red inkpad at home?”

“It’s in the second-floor bedroom, top drawer by the bed,” said Ding Dalin. “I’ll go get it.”

“Let the boy go. Little Yuanhou, fetch it.”

Li Zhuiyuan wanted to decline, but Ding Dalin had just sat back down. Refusing now would seem unreasonable.

“Sure, Taigong.”

He ran inside and up the stairs. Tan Wenbin tried to follow but was stopped by Li Sanjiang.

“Zhuangzhuang.”

“Li Daye, my name’s Binbin.”

“Go help in the kitchen. The secretary’s swamped.”

Tan Wenbin didn’t want to be alone with the Water Monkey either. But faced with the same pressure Li Zhuiyuan had earlier, he could only smile and nod, heading toward the kitchen.

Upstairs, Li Zhuiyuan saw that the place had been cleaned. The hallway outside the balcony was spotless.

He didn’t enter the room right away but walked over to the skylight hatch. The ladder leaned against the wall nearby.

His array flags and Runsheng’s set of corpse retrieval tools were probably still on the roof.

But the problem was—even if he retrieved them now, they were too heavy to sneak out. Dropping them behind the house wasn’t safe either. Too loud, too risky.

Eventually, he turned around, opened the door, and stepped into the bedroom.

The room was well-furnished. Ding Dalin must’ve bought it with the furniture included to save time.

He walked to the nightstand and opened the drawer.

Sure enough, there was a box of red ink. And something else he didn’t expect… a compass.

A purple compass, its main ring encircled by five smaller ones.

Li Zhuiyuan held it in his hand and gave it a gentle turn. He quickly figured out what each of the five auxiliary rings represented.

There had been a similar model recorded in the Chronicle of the Orthodox Demon-Suppressing Arts, but its creation process was so intricate and materials so rare that he’d never seriously considered owning one.

Holding it now, he genuinely liked it.

With this, assessing feng shui would be like being allowed to bring a calculator into a math exam.

He was realizing more and more that he couldn’t keep taxing his brain so heavily. His body couldn’t handle it.

This thing, paired with The Liu Clan's Art of Observing Qi, would’ve prevented him from nosebleeding last time at the fish pond.

The real Ding Dalin was dead. So this item was ownerless now. Taking it wouldn’t be stealing.

But… it was still too risky.

The Water Monkeys’ other items had been collected and cleared away, yet this one remained. That meant it was important.

They probably knew who entered this room. If the item disappeared, they’d trace it to him for sure.

Forget it. Not worth the risk.

The thing was excellent, but his life was more valuable. Just as he was about to return the compass to the drawer—

“Did you find it?”

Secretary Jin’s voice came from the doorway.

Li Zhuiyuan jumped again, but he steadied himself. Holding the compass in one hand and the ink box in the other, he said, “Found it!”

“I thought you might need help, so I came up to check.”

“What’s this, Aunt Jin?” he asked, holding up the compass. “It’s so pretty.”

“A toy. If you like it, it’s yours.”

His first reaction wasn’t joy. It was: is this a test?

“Bring everything down,” she said, turning and leaving.

Li Zhuiyuan hesitated, then took both the compass and the ink box and went downstairs.

He handed the inkpad to the village head, who gestured for everyone to stamp their handprints.

Li Sanjiang noticed the compass. “Little Yuanhou, what’s that?”

Ding Dalin said, “Just some knickknack from home. The kid liked it, so I gave it to him as a toy.”

Li Sanjiang took it, inspected it, and muttered, “So many circles… what junk.”

Then he casually tossed it back to Li Zhuiyuan.

Li Zhuiyuan really wanted to tell Taigong that this was a professional-grade instrument, and the one he normally used was just a glorified compass.

“Little Yuanhou, thank your Grandpa Ding.”

“Thank you, Grandpa Ding.”

“Heh, good boy.” Ding Dalin patted his head.

Li Zhuiyuan’s skin crawled, but he endured it. He didn’t dare flinch.

The will was finalized, two copies made. One went with the village head to the village office, and the other was folded neatly and solemnly slipped into Li Sanjiang’s breast pocket. He even gave it a little pat.

Lunch was ready. Everyone took their seats.

The spread was generous. In front of Li Zhuiyuan sat a large plate of boiled shrimp.

Just the sight of them made his stomach churn.

“Help yourselves,” Ding Dalin said, lifting his chopsticks. “Nothing fancy, sorry.”

Everyone followed suit.

“Here, Zhuangzhuang, have some shrimp. You loved these yesterday.”

Li Sanjiang used his chopsticks to push a third of the shrimp toward Li Zhuiyuan and Tan Wenbin, then turned the lazy Susan.

Tan Wenbin dug in eagerly, pinching off the heads, peeling the shells, dipping them in vinegar, and sucking the juice out of the heads before placing the clean shrimp meat into Li Zhuiyuan’s bowl.

Li Zhuiyuan picked it up. The meat was plump and pink.

As he chewed, images from last night filled his mind.

It was the first time he’d eaten something so delicious yet so hard to swallow.

In the end, he forced it down. It felt more painful than eating the “dishes” from Cat-faced Granny’s memorial feast.

Seeing Tan Wenbin about to peel another, Li Zhuiyuan quickly said, “Binbin-ge, you eat. I don’t really like shrimp.”

“Really?” Tan Wenbin looked surprised. “Then I’ll eat it.”

“Mm.”

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