Chapter 88.4

She glanced again at the “game” the two were playing, and couldn’t help but reflect:

Most girls get deceived when they’re young, naïve, and haven’t seen much of the world. But her Ah Li was just the opposite.

Just this sort of game—they’d be hard-pressed to find someone else to play it with, even after they grew up.

The same likely applied to the boy.

Liu Yumei had never liked romanticized talk of childhood sweethearts. She wasn’t one herself. But now, she had to reevaluate that stance.

When you’ve tasted the best and seen the finest too soon, everything after risks feeling dull.

The hair was done.

Liu Yumei picked up a hair ornament and gently placed it on Ah Li.

Then she leaned back slightly, admiring her granddaughter—her artwork, really.

She felt sorrow for the child’s illness, but never once any resentment or bitterness. Ah Li had brought her immeasurable joy and fulfillment.

“Breakfast is ready.”

They all sat down. The meal was, as always, refined and plentiful.

Liu Yumei set down her chopsticks early. As she dabbed her lips with a napkin, she said, “Xiaoyuan, come to the study after breakfast.”

“Yes, Grandma.”

Ah Li looked up at her.

Liu Yumei blushed faintly, then rose and headed into the study.

After finishing his meal, Li Zhuiyuan escorted Ah Li upstairs before coming down again to the study.

This time, Liu Yumei wasn’t sitting upright like a stern tutor awaiting her pupil. She lay sideways on a lounge chair, gently fanning herself with a palm-leaf fan.

Li Zhuiyuan sat down, opened his bag, and pulled out the book.

That’s when he noticed three items laid out on the tea table.

On the left was a sheet of paper, covered in illegible, scribbled text—ghostly strokes that looked like nonsense to most. But Li Zhuiyuan immediately recognized it: the first line from Volume One of the dog-scratch-handwritten “Liu Clan's Art of Observing Qi” he had read in that bootleg edition, The Book Thief version.

The old lady was, indeed, something else. She’d deciphered and replicated this transmission method too.

For someone like her, perhaps it had just been a matter of breaking through a thin layer of understanding. Once it clicked, it was done.

In the middle lay a blank sheet of paper and a brush.

On the right, just as casually placed as before, was a copy of The Qin Family’s Guide to Viewing Flood Dragons.

Li Zhuiyuan began to understand her intent.

“Xiaoyuan,” said Liu Yumei, “your grandma’s not as spry as you young ones. I need to digest after eating. Whatever you don’t understand, write it down first.”

“Alright, Grandma.”

Li Zhuiyuan picked up the brush and started writing out Volume Two in his messy script.

As he wrote, he said, “Grandma, Runsheng’s in good health. It’d be a shame if he didn’t learn some proper techniques.”

“Your Uncle Qin is coming back the day after tomorrow. Let him teach.”

“Grandma, there’s a part in the Art of Observing Qi I don’t fully understand. It talks about qi having form, color, and even flavor—but what does that mean exactly?”

“The human body is its own complete microcosm. Every person carries their own internal weather—this is both medicine and what’s called poison technique.”

“Yin Meng would be suited to that,” he added.

Medical skills were always handy. It was inconvenient to keep hauling people to the clinic, and modern medicine couldn’t always handle certain injuries.

As for poison technique, Yin Meng really was a natural. She only had to cook normally, and the food came out laced with danger.

“Let your Aunt Liu teach her.”

“What about Tan Wenbin, Grandma? What should he learn?”

This question came from genuine curiosity. Li Zhuiyuan hoped the old lady would offer guidance from her years of experience.

“Let him learn whatever he wants. Every ship needs someone shouting at the prow. If he could charm your great-grandpa into laughter, then that’s already a talent.

“Don’t be fooled by your great-grandpa’s constant smiling. He’s picky when it comes to judging people.

“And frankly, you’re even pickier than he is.”

“Shouting at the prow?”

“Don’t get the wrong idea—it’s not gatekeeping. Whether I push you or not, a lad like you is bound to go wandering the rivers eventually.

“And if you’re to journey downriver, someone’s got to call orders from the front. Someone to handle dealings with all the river gods and monsters beneath the surface.

“The Dragon King doesn’t move lightly. Wherever he goes, he brings the face of the Dragon King with him.

“Have Tan Wenbin stop by here more often when he has time. I’ll personally tell him the old rules and stories. You never had the patience to listen to this old lady ramble anyway.”

“Thank you, Grandma.”

“But there’s one condition—after they enter the fold, they must perform the rite of homage to you. Only then can they study the arts of the Qin and Liu clans. That way, when they go out into the world, they can say they were trained under the Dragon King of the Qin-Liu lineage.”

“Rite of homage…”

“In the old days, it was strict. Worshiping the Dragon King was practically signing your life away. Betrayal meant chains and a watery grave. I don’t know about other families nowadays, but to me, that’s ancient history.

“Just treat the rite like a sworn brotherhood ceremony—a formal process, that’s all.”

“Got it, Grandma. Volume Two is done.”

“That’s enough for now. I’ll take a look when I have time.”

“Thank you for your trouble, Grandma.”

Li Zhuiyuan knew exactly what Liu Yumei was doing. She was safeguarding the lineage—translating these abstract insights into plain language. That meant when he got back, he might as well transcribe the rest.

He set down the brush and, without a second thought, picked up The Qin Family’s Guide to Viewing Flood Dragons and slipped it into his bag.

Liu Yumei smiled faintly.

“Grandma, I’m going upstairs to see Ah Li.”

“Go on.”

Li Zhuiyuan left the study.

Strictly speaking, what had transpired wasn’t really a deal. Liu Yumei had already promised she’d agree to any request he made. But even biological children need tact when asking their parents for a toy. There’s a difference between simply agreeing and actively helping.

The old lady was easy to appease—she just cared about appearances.

…

Meanwhile, Tan Wenbin had picked up a sick note from the infirmary and gotten leave from the drill instructor. He’d been officially approved as a bedside companion.

He was perfectly happy with the break. He grabbed a textbook from the dorm and returned to the infirmary.

Lin Shuyou was sleeping with an IV in his arm. Tan Wenbin sat beside the bed and started reading.

Two girls walked past the ward window, chatting and laughing with their art boards slung over their backs.

One wore white, the other blue. Both tall and graceful.

Tan Wenbin briefly looked up from his book to glance at them.

So these were the artsy seniors on campus.

After they passed, he lowered his head again. Eye candy break was over—back to studying.

But then, something made him turn his head.

He looked toward the bed beside him.

Lin Shuyou, who had been fast asleep, was now wide awake.

“You bastard,” Tan Wenbin started to joke, “still got the energy to girl-watch after that beating? Hurry up and—”

Then he stopped cold.

His eyes widened.

Lin Shuyou’s pupils were now vertical slits.

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