Chapter 83.2

At the doorway, Aunt Liu paused with the fruit platter in her hands.

Ever since the move, Ah Li had been listless. Originally, Granny Liu had planned to give it more time before inviting Xiaoyuan over. But in the end, she was afraid her granddaughter's condition might regress.

Li Zhuiyuan pointed at the paintings on the wall and said, “Because we left, these past scenes and memories seem even more beautiful now.”

Ah Li reached out and took the boy’s hand. When she looked back up at her paintings, her eyes gleamed with new light.

Aunt Liu smiled silently, gently knocked on the door, and brought the fruit platter inside. She pointed to the top, saying, “You two can go up to the rooftop.”

Li Zhuiyuan took the platter, and he and Ah Li went upstairs. The rooftop had been renovated. Under a large sunshade stood two identical wicker chairs.

They each reclined into one and started playing chess—three games at once, as usual.

While they played, Li Zhuiyuan recounted what he had experienced at school.

Whenever he reached a key moment, Ah Li’s fingers would subtly tighten. She was doing her best to respond, to show she was truly listening.

When he finished, Li Zhuiyuan’s throat was dry. He turned to eat some fruit.

He picked up a piece and offered it to her, but the girl shook her head and blinked at him.

Understanding her meaning, Li Zhuiyuan set the fork aside, lay back down, and closed his eyes.

Where most people talk about “entering each other’s hearts” as just a poetic flourish, for the two of them, it was literal truth.

When he opened his eyes again, Li Zhuiyuan felt a burning wind and cold sunlight.

Looking up, he saw the sun and the halo around it glowing a ghastly white.

In the fields and by the creek ahead, eerie beings were toiling and playing.

Yet even as they busied themselves, they kept stealing glances in this direction, eyes brimming with mockery and mischief.

It was as if this whole place—this absurd, uncanny landscape—had been custom-built just for him.

Turning around, he saw the house again—and the threshold behind him.

Ah Li, who had left home, had also stepped past that threshold, placing herself in this “terrifying wilderness.”

When he opened his eyes once more and returned to reality, his face was drenched in cold sweat.

He had deliberately stayed longer to experience what Ah Li saw when she closed her eyes.

The girl wiped his sweat with her sleeve, her eyes full of quiet amusement.

“Our Ah Li is really strong.”

Happiness becomes more vivid by contrast; pain, less sharp. Their companionship was how they drew strength and courage from one another.

They lay there a while longer, waiting for their hearts and heads to settle. Then Li Zhuiyuan walked Ah Li back to her room before going downstairs himself.

“Granny Liu’s not back yet,” Aunt Liu said. “There—see that room? That’s the study. You can wait for her in there.”

“Alright, Aunt Liu.”

Li Zhuiyuan pushed open the study door and stepped inside. Instead of a traditional desk, there was a tea table with a stack of books on it. Beneath the books were some envelopes, and in the back was a reclining bed.

He sat on a stool opposite the table. His gaze drifted, almost involuntarily, to the top book—The Liu Clan's Art of Observing Qi.

He flipped through it briefly. The handwriting was clean and neat.

Hmm. Just the standard edition. Not worth reading.

He made some tea instead. Just as the tea was ready, Granny Liu walked in and settled onto the reclining bed, leaning against a cushion.

Her eyes caught the Art of Observing Qi on the table, noticed that the pages had been flipped through, and a hint of smugness crept into her gaze.

“Granny, have some tea.”

“Mm.”

“Granny, Uncle Qin didn’t come to Jinling with you?”

“He’s busy, a lot on his plate. He’ll come once he finishes up.”

“Oh.”

“What have you been reading lately?”

“Some scriptures.”

Lately, he’d been reading the Sutra of Kṣitigarbha Bodhisattva. It was that very scripture that had allowed him to manipulate memory so freely the night before.

“Haven’t come across anything particularly interesting?”

Granny Liu sipped her tea. If the boy said yes and asked to borrow something, she’d just go ahead and lend him the Art of Observing Qi.

Let him read it early, learn slowly, and come ask her questions when he got stuck. Much more efficient that way.

“There is one book I find interesting,” he said, “but it’s too interesting. I’m afraid I’ll lose myself in it, so I haven’t dared to open it.”

That black-covered book with the white sleeve—it even seemed to flirt with you.

“That’s not a big deal. Books are written to be read. If a book ends up in front of you, it means it was meant for you.”

Granny Liu chuckled inwardly. The boy knew how to gauge a book’s weight.

“I just don’t think it’s the right time. I want to grow a bit more first, be more prepared—then I’ll find the courage to read it.”

Just like that old coin buried in the Shigang Town graveyard—he’d dig it up someday, when the time came.

“A book helps you grow. Doesn’t matter when you read it. But if you’re too scared to even look at it, that’s a bit pathetic, isn’t it?”

The more he held back, the more pleased Granny Liu felt.

“Granny, you really think so?”

“Of course. If you don’t read it, how will you understand it? Maybe reading it now gives you one feeling, and reading it again when you’re older gives you another. Give up the now for the sake of some future moment, and you lose both.”

“Mm.” Li Zhuiyuan nodded.

He really was curious about that book—but he was also afraid of ending up like Mao Changan and his son. He had confidence, sure—but so had everyone who’d ever opened that book, thinking they were the exception.

“To be honest, I’m a little scared.”

“As the old saying goes, newborn calves don’t fear tigers. What’s there to be afraid of? Meeting a book is like meeting a person—it’s fate. If you don’t open it, how will you know whether it was written just for you?”

“Yes. I understand now.”

“Mm.”

Granny Liu set down her teacup and waited a while, but the boy didn’t mention borrowing the book.

She wasn’t in a hurry—maybe he was just being polite, waiting until they finished talking before making the request.

“Runsheng and the others followed you to school. Got any plans?”

“No specific plans. Just taking it one step at a time.”

He wasn’t being negative. Right after arriving, something big had already happened. Life away from home was suddenly full of drama.

“It’s fine to take it step by step. But you still need a goal. As the old saying goes, the turtle seeks the bottom of the pond, the flood dragon must roam the river. It all depends on your own ambition.”

“To roam the river?”

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