Chapter 74.2: The Threshold

When Li Zhuiyuan came out, Wu Xinhang and Teacher Yan bid farewell to the elderly professors. They exchanged contact info—it might come in handy for future lectures at school.

Next stop: roast duck.

Originally, they’d ordered just one duck and two side dishes—more than enough.

But as soon as Li Zhuiyuan recalled Li Lan saying, “Being human is filthy,” he couldn’t help stuffing wrap after wrap of duck meat into his mouth.

So Wu Xinhang ordered another half duck.

The next morning, Wu Xinhang and Teacher Yan got up early. Not wanting to disturb Little Yuan, they tiptoed out—only to find the boy opening his door across the hall at the same time.

They brought him out for stewed offal breakfast, then picked up some local specialties.

At the airport, once they boarded the plane, Wu Xinhang and Teacher Yan soon fell asleep.

Li Zhuiyuan stared out the window, watching the blue sky and the dense clouds below.

He hadn’t slept a wink last night.

By the time the plane landed, the school’s car was already waiting. Before nightfall, Li Zhuiyuan had returned to Great-Grandpa’s house.

There was a wedding on the west side of the village. Great-Grandpa had taken Runsheng and Yin Meng to the feast. Tan Wenbin had gone home.

Li Zhuiyuan went straight up to the second floor and entered his room. Ah Li was hunched over a memorial tablet, shaving it down with a small carving blade.

On the floor beside her lay a whip, half of which had already been wrapped in shaved tablet wood.

When the boy wasn’t home, the girl either drew or helped him with these kinds of crafts.

As soon as Li Zhuiyuan appeared at the door, the girl looked up, a smile curling her lips, her eyes lighting up.

But just as quickly, her expression fell.

“Look—nothing.”

Li Zhuiyuan showed her his open palms. No wounds.

“And nothing on my body, either. I held it in. Really, I did it.”

The boy was doing everything he could to prove himself, like boasting about a test score.

Compared to this, that math competition meant nothing now.

The smile returned to the girl’s lips.

That taut wire inside Li Zhuiyuan finally loosened at the sight of her.

He walked to the bed, lay down, blinked twice—and instantly fell asleep.

He dreamt of many things. In some dreams, he was himself. In others, he was Li Lan. Sometimes, he was being led by Li Lan. Other times, the two stood side by side, watching a mother and son holding hands in the distance.

Morning came. The boy awoke.

The girl sat by the bed, watching him.

Just like last time, when he collapsed from exhaustion, she’d stayed up all night to watch over him.

Liu Yumei believed it was Ah Li’s fortune to have met the boy in Li Sanjiang’s house.

Li Zhuiyuan believed it was his own fortune to have met Ah Li in Great-Grandpa’s home.

Two doors that should have slowly closed had instead jammed into one another—and now held each other up.

Aunt Liu’s voice rang out from downstairs, like a temple bell washing over the soul—marking the full stop to his trip to the capital:

“Breakfast’s ready!”

…

The students were on winter break. New Year’s was near.

Aunt Zhang’s shop had stocked up on snacks, and a wide array of firecrackers were displayed outside the door.

It was the one time of year when kids actually had spending power. All day long, small groups came by to buy treats.

Li Zhuiyuan came too.

“Yuanzi-ge!”

“Yuanzi-ge!”

Huzi and Shitou waved enthusiastically.

They’d received their red envelopes, but money didn’t last long in their hands. It was already spent.

Now they were tagging along with a kid who still had cash, pitching in advice about which firecrackers were the most fun—hoping to snag a few for themselves afterward.

When they saw Yuanzi-ge here to buy firecrackers, they immediately stood at his side, offering their expertise.

Li Zhuiyuan grabbed a few boxes of firecrackers and sparklers, then asked, “What do you guys want? Pick something.”

Their eyes lit up but each only took the cheapest box.

“Pick a few more.”

Seeing Yuanzi-ge so generous, they didn’t hold back and picked out several of their favorites.

Li Zhuiyuan paid and left.

Huzi and Shitou, firecrackers in hand, strutted back to their friends, showing off proudly.

Back home, Li Zhuiyuan walked up to Runsheng, who was weaving paper effigies.

“Runsheng-ge, give me two incense sticks.”

“Sure.”

Runsheng lit two thin sticks and handed them over.

The boy brought one to Ah Li.

Then the two of them went around placing firecrackers in different spots and lighting them together with the incense.

From the yard and the vegetable garden below, firecracker pops rang out.

Yin Meng stepped out with a chalk line reel, casually twisting her neck as she watched the two playing below. For a moment, she looked dazed.

“They really are something else.”

Runsheng nodded and asked, “You wanna light some too?”

Yin Meng nodded. “Sure—it’s almost New Year’s.”

“Wait here.”

Runsheng set down his vine strips, went inside, and came out hugging eight double-sounders.

“Here. Go wild.”

“These?”

“Yeah. They’re almost expired. Might as well hear them go bang while they still can.”

“My dad’s calling me! My dad’s calling me!”

Tan Wenbin strutted out, pointing at the pager on his hip, pelvis jutting forward like his bones were misaligned.

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