Sien Hall.

Inner room.

Xie Daozhi told the Old Madam about Yan Xing’s heart demon. After hearing it, the Old Madam’s face streamed with tears, unable to speak for a long time.

Xie Daozhi clutched his still-aching heart. “Mother, I want to keep that child here.”

The Old Madam’s eyes brightened.

“It’s just that we still need to think of a way to keep her.”

“No matter what method.” The Old Madam wiped her tears. “We owe them too much—we couldn’t repay it in several lifetimes!”

“Grandmother, Father.”

Seeing the two elders’ truly terrible complexions, Xie Erli said calmly: “This matter can’t be rushed. We must plan carefully.”

The tense emotions of recent days suddenly released. Xie Daozhi said wearily to his son: “You stay and keep your grandmother company. I’ll go to my room and rest.”

“I’ll see Father off.”

“No need.”

Xie Daozhi returned to the study feeling heavy-headed and light-footed. Sitting alone in the grand master’s chair, thinking about Yan Xing’s latter half of life, thinking about his heart demon—feeling both sorrowful and helpless.

Drowsiness struck. He didn’t even have the strength to get up and climb onto the bed. He fell asleep with his head on the desk.

Strangely, his body began floating and bobbing.

He floated to a courtyard. All the other rooms in the courtyard were dark, but the west wing room glowed with light and voices could be heard.

“The wind is picking up outside. Child, sleep early.”

“Mother, you go sleep first. I’ll practice my calligraphy a bit more.”

“Your writing—even the teacher praises it.”

“But he hasn’t praised it.”

“Every day it’s him, him, him. Is calling him ‘Father’ really that difficult?”

“Mother!”

“Fine, fine, fine. I won’t say anymore.”

The young woman walked out of the room and stopped in the courtyard, letting out a long sigh.

Xie Daozhi, floating in mid-air, nearly bulged his eyes out of their sockets.

It was actually Mother.

Then, then the person in that room—is it me?

It was the eight-year-old Xie Daozhi.

Little Daozhi rubbed his sore wrists a few times and picked up his brush again.

“Bang!”

The window was blown open by the wind, scattering the papers on the desk.

He quickly got up to close the window. Looking up, he saw someone walking through the vast night.

The person slowly approached, dressed in simple elegant clothing, eyes deep and profound.

Little Daozhi nervously didn’t know what to do with his hands.

“Writing characters?”

“Mm!”

“Let me see.”

He frantically walked to the desk, wanting to pick out one presentable piece.

“Any one will do,” that person said.

Little Daozhi didn’t dare delay. He randomly pulled out one sheet and handed it over, not daring to raise his head, only using sidelong glances to watch that person’s expression.

That person’s brow furrowed.

It’s over!

Little Daozhi thought to himself—I’m in trouble, about to get scolded again.

“I, I’ll rewrite it later.” He lowered his head.

“It’s written very well.”

“Huh?”

“It’s written very well. Especially these few strokes—they have considerable backbone.”

Immense joy surged from his heart. Little Daozhi’s nose twitched and tears fell.

“Why are you crying?” that person asked.

“You’ve never praised me before. This is the first time.”

That person took out a handkerchief from his bosom and handed it over. “Does it matter that much?”

“I…”

Little Daozhi took the handkerchief, his face suddenly flushing red, feeling he was being somewhat unreasonable.

But yes, it really mattered that much.

He mustered his courage and said: “I work so hard, study so diligently, just so you’ll see me, so you’ll… praise me once.”

That person rebuked: “Shallow!”

“How is it shallow?”

Little Daozhi felt so wronged. “You’re more capable than all the teachers. The teachers’ praise doesn’t count—only yours counts.”

“My praise doesn’t count either. There are people even more capable than me.”

“Who could be more capable than you? I don’t believe it!”

That person shook his head lightly.

“Heaven and earth are so vast. You stand in a small space and can only see what’s in that small space. You must move forward.”

Hearing this, Xie Daozhi floating in mid-air could restrain himself no longer and shouted loudly: “Was this the reason you let Mother and me go?”

The moment this shout emerged, an enormous force pulled Xie Daozhi downward.

Too late to make any sound, he suddenly entered Little Daozhi’s body.

Then he discovered in astonishment that his body was growing at an incredible speed, instantly becoming his forty-eight-year-old appearance.

His worn and faded clothes also changed into imposing official robes.

That person’s eyes showed no change at all, only sighing: “You see, how accomplished you are now.”

“I…”

Xie Daozhi was speechless.

Drawing closer, he could now see that person’s face was covered in wrinkles like old tree bark. Only the two eyes shone brilliantly, not at all clouded, bearing an innate pride and integrity.

“I actually didn’t know I would have a heart demon. People can always see others clearly but not themselves.”

That person sighed softly. “Still too greedy!”

“No, it’s Mother and I who wronged you.”

“Those things no longer matter.”

The important thing.

Xie Daozhi said in his heart: They’re very important to me.

“You are a good person.”

“I’m a person who squandered the family fortune.”

“No!”

Xie Daozhi felt heartsick and grieved.

“You are a clean person. This filthy world cannot tolerate cleanliness. This isn’t your fault—it’s this world’s fault, it’s our fault.”

That person’s gaze lingered on his face for a long while.

Xie Daozhi boldly met his eyes for the first time, his own eyes growing moist.

“When water is too clear, there are no fish. Don’t hate yourself. Your existence lets us see how dirty, how black, how ugly our own consciences are.”

After hearing this, that person showed neither joy nor sorrow, expression indifferent, as if hearing about something with little connection to himself.

“I’m not flattering you. Every word I’ve said is true.”

“I know.”

That person turned around with hands behind his back, eyes looking toward some unknown place.

“The affairs of this world are all a great dream. How many autumns does life contain? ‘Good person’ is the cruelest title in this world.”

Xie Daozhi’s face immediately flushed red with shame, his neck thick.

His words just now, like the official robes on his body, were condescending and carried unprecedented frivolity.

Not knowing what to do, that person suddenly turned around.

Face to face, eyes meeting eyes.

The night was pitch black;

The candle flame jumped and flickered in the wind.

“In this world, it’s still better to be a common person.”

His speech was very slow, carrying a trace of desolation. “But common people also have their difficulties.”

That person slowly extended his hand and placed it on his head, gently rubbing.

“Child, take care of yourself!”

The word “child” made Xie Daozhi’s already guilty and distraught heart suddenly shatter. Tears burst forth from his eyes like a broken dam, gushing out.

“Father—”

Xie Daozhi shouted loudly and woke abruptly from the dream.

Through tear-blurred eyes, he saw Third Son’s face leaning close.

“Father, what’s wrong… why aren’t you speaking!”

Xie Daozhi closed his eyes. That spot on his head where that person had touched him burned through his meridians toward his heart.

This was the warmth he had hoped for for forty years;

This was the family affection he had waited forty years for.

He finally obtained it.

And would never obtain it again.

Two lines of cloudy tears rolled down Xie Daozhi’s face.

“Third Son, in this life, your father will never have a father again!”