Xiushan Village and Xiushui Village bordered each other, nestled at opposite ends of the valley. As neighbors, they certainly weren't far apart. A brisk walker could cross between them in about ten minutes. But precisely because a patch of woods separated them, no sound from the other side of the mountain could ever carry over.

Besides, in those days, a death wasn't a grand event. It was true that Old Master Hu had shown some small kindnesses to the people of Xiushan Village, but he had no connection whatsoever with Xiushui Village. The Old Master’s family understood this perfectly: if they sent an invitation and the neighbors didn't come, wouldn't that be an utter public humiliation? Moreover, their family wasn't poor and didn't need the funeral money. Thus, based on this thought, the Hu family unanimously decided not to involve their neighbors. Consequently, under the light of the fifteenth moon, while the neighboring side was shrouded in white lanterns as far as the eye could see, this side was bustling with life. To liven things up, the village head even made an exception and played a few nice songs over the loudspeaker. Although most people couldn't make out what the singing woman was rambling about, the tunes themselves were quite pleasant, and some even hummed along. A gap of just a few hundred meters—that was how vast the difference could be!

On the street, an old farmer wearing a fur hat nervously touched his itchy earlobe, exhaling a plume of white mist. Only when his hands felt a bit of comforting warmth did he lift the baskets of vegetables he had prepared earlier and carry them inside. There was no helping it; the weather in the Northeast had always been this arduous!

Looking into his carrying pole, there wasn't much in the way of delicacies. In those years, the weather was erratic, and everyone’s education level was depressingly low. The few who could read or speak eloquently were all lauded by the village head and employed as clerks. Consequently, even if you introduced the novel concept of greenhouse technology to the villagers, they would surely be utterly bewildered, understanding nothing, let alone how to cultivate seasonal vegetables. The baskets held nothing but Chinese cabbage, or more Chinese cabbage. Of course, many elderly people, seeing their children and grandchildren visit, would grit their teeth, stamp their feet, and splurge months of savings to bring home a couple of cuts of meat, cooking a pot of pork stewed with vermicelli noodles to give the young ones a taste of meat. It had to be said, on such a cold day, a bowl of pork stewed with vermicelli set out on the table truly whetted the appetite and warmed the heart profoundly. However, this only happened perhaps twice a year at most. After all, back then, even a teacher earned only a few tens of yuan a month; being able to feed oneself adequately was considered good fortune, certainly not comparable to our lives now.

The poor had their way of life, and the rich had theirs. This disparity couldn't stop people from pursuing happiness. Take this fellow, wasn't he living quite contentedly?

"Damn it, this little tune was getting good, why did it suddenly stop?" In the small house at the head of the village, a boy of twelve or thirteen sat up lazily from his bed, complaining. As he spoke, his cynical eyelids fluttered open and shut with his breath; one look told you he was a mischievous little rascal. Looking closer at his face, his skin was as fair and tender as a young girl's, so soft you could probably squeeze water from it. Overall, he was rather handsome, but considering the contour of his face, his gaze—why did it resemble our Young Master Liu so much?

That's right; this was Young Master Liu.

It was a holiday today, and his parents were busy with errands, unable to look after him. So, they had graciously bestowed upon him a day off, allowing him to cause mischief wherever he pleased. Since the top boss had given his approval, Young Master Liu naturally wouldn't miss such a good opportunity. He got up early, skipped brushing his teeth and washing his face, grabbed a snow-white steamed bun, and went off to mess around with a bunch of good-for-nothings in the village. Ha! Supplies were scarce back then, and there weren't many things to play with—just shuttlecock kicking, jump rope, throwing iron pieces, and house-house, those four things! After playing all day, eating his fill, and resting, it was time to settle down. But Young Master Liu wasn't one for quietude. So, with a glint in his eye, he started plotting mischievous ideas again. Likewise, Tian Guoqiang, the village head's son who was quite close to him, Xiao Mazi, the son of Chen Mazi, and Goudan from next door shared the same thought. The four of them got together, and it was an instant agreement: they wouldn't sleep tonight. They would each pool their pocket money and play Landlord. Whoever lost would accept their fate, and the winner would treat everyone to sunflower seeds at the small shop. However, they were all cunning foxes; they figured gambling couldn't be done under everyone's noses. That would be like carrying a lantern into a latrine—asking for trouble. If they were caught, they'd not only have to write self-criticisms but also endure a severe beating from their families. Some kid in the village had done it last time, and his ungrateful old man had beaten his backside until it split into eight pieces, leaving him bedridden in pain for days. After much discussion, the four children finally decided to gather at the ruined temple on the mountain after midnight to play cards. That place was usually deserted; forget people, it was hard to even see a mouse there.

With the location set, the rest was easy. Tian Guoqiang, shielded by his village head father, immediately thumped his chest and declared that he would be responsible for the playing cards and the kerosene lamp; they just needed to show up. He stipulated beforehand: whoever didn't come would be the son of Wangcai (the mangy dog Chen Mazi kept).

After making their plans, everyone dispersed. Each went home to rummage through jars, search pockets, and even pilfer a little to gather their "gambling stakes." Then they lay on their beds, closing their eyes to relax and gather strength, waiting for the three hundred rounds of battle that night. And so, Young Master Liu was just drifting off to the music from the loudspeaker when it abruptly cut off, plunging him into misery. He sat up, glanced at the large wall clock—it was nearly half past eleven. Muttering a few words to himself, he pulled on his large shorts, slipped on his sandals, threw his father's fox fur coat over his shoulders, and slap-slap, pushed the door open and stepped out.

His house was near the great locust tree, which was the natural resting and gossiping spot for the grannies, aunties, and old men. Even though it was late, two old men were still sitting on the bluestone slabs, reluctantly puffing on their large tobacco pipes, chatting intermittently.

Young Master Liu took a closer look: it was Old Man Wang and White Baldy, the two old fellows just rambling away, currently discussing why the village loudspeaker had suddenly gone quiet again!

This comment rather matched Young Master Liu's current mood, so he immediately interjected, "Damn their mothers, who the hell knows what happened! Maybe an earthquake shook down our village power line!"

"Nonsense, don't wish for an earthquake. I haven't even held a great-grandchild yet!" Old Man Wang shot him a look.

Hearing this, Young Master Liu nearly burst out laughing. Come on, Old Man Wang's grandson was only six years old! A man with one foot already in the coffin, expecting to hold a great-grandchild? Truly, the older they got, the more afraid of death they became. He immediately stuck out his tongue and mocked him:

"Don't you worry, Grandpa, you'll definitely hold a great-grandchild. You'll even hold a great-great-great-grandchild! A thousand-year-old soft-shelled turtle, a ten-thousand-year-old tortoise, a hundred-year-old hedgehog—you're going to live that long, Grandpa!"

"You—" Old Man Wang couldn't finish his retort; his face was already flushed crimson with anger. It seemed this brat had truly pushed him too far. But after a moment of contemplation, he calmed down instead. He turned his head away, ignoring Young Master Liu, a flash of cunning crossing his eyes. Sure enough, after a tense standoff lasting a few seconds, Old Man Wang suddenly turned back, scraping the sole of his cloth shoe on the ground, and pointed dramatically at the spot beneath his feet, shouting in an exaggerated tone, "Oh my, whose money is this lying here? Looks like a whole bill. Old age makes my eyes hazy; I can't see clearly!" His voice carried a peculiar magnetic charm, as if he were terrified that Young Master Liu wouldn't hear him.

"Money?" The mention of that blood-pumping, utterly astonishing word immediately piqued Young Master Liu's interest. His dog-eyes widened larger than a fifty-watt lightbulb, and he quickly bent down, stretching his hands to grope around on the ground: "Where is it, where is it? It must be mine, I dropped it!"

"Heh heh!" Seeing this little hooligan had fallen for the bait, Old Man Wang's deeply wrinkled face immediately broke into a smile. He thought, You want to play games with me? Don't you know ginger is always older and spicier? Before the words could fully form, he quickly lowered his hand and swung the large tobacco pipe he held, tapping Young Master Liu squarely on the head. It hurt so much that Young Master Liu cried out, his eyebrows furrowed tightly, tears welling up.

"You old bastard, why did you hit me!" Anyone who suffered a sneak attack wouldn't be in a good mood. To call someone 'Grandpa' after being hit, or to count money for someone after being tricked—that was for idiots, and he certainly wouldn't emulate that. So, our Young Master Liu quickly gave his body a forceful shake, emitting a potent aura of dominance (his clothes hadn't been changed in days, smelling foul). With one hand on his hip and the other covering his head, he launched into a shrewish tirade.

"Hmph, if I don't hit you, you brat won't learn. A dog young master, a dog's mouth can only spit out ivory," Old Man Wang wasn't angry, only growing more smug. It was clear that this old man and this child had exchanged verbal spars countless times.

"Who are you calling a dog young master?" Young Master Liu shot back, grumbling to himself, Alright, you old bastard, just you wait! You not only tricked me, but you hit me too! If I can stand this, I can stand anything. Today's debt, I'll settle it with your grandson later! I'll beat him so badly even you, his own grandpa, won't recognize him!

"Hahaha." Old Man Wang laughed, blowing a perfect, large smoke ring right into Young Master Liu's face. This made Young Master Liu, whose rage was already burning, feel a searing heat inside his skull.

He reached up to touch the back of his head; the spot where he was struck had already swelled into a small lump. Young Master Liu was nearly bursting with anger. Damn it! This old guy really went hard with the joke. It's only because my head is tough, but if it had been someone else, that blow could have knocked a hole right through them. Thinking this, his lips pursed high, fulfilling the saying: a cooked duck—stubborn mouth.

"Hmph. My grandma told me that when I was born, a fortune-teller said that although I was born missing one soul and one spirit, I was destined for divinity. With me blessing the village, there won't be any earthquakes!"

"Don't say it, but there really was something like that," said Baldy Ma, who was watching from the side, poking the embers in his tobacco pipe with a thin branch he found on the ground, confirming the story irritably.

"Yes, yes, see? Uncle Ma speaks sense," Young Master Liu smiled. But after hearing Baldy Ma’s unhurried explanation, he felt like crying again.

"The thing is, when you little brat were first born, the earth temple north of our village collapsed. That year our village suffered from chicken plague. Neighboring villages were fine, but only our village chickens kept dying. The next year, when most of the chickens were dead, our village suffered from pig plague. Neighboring villages were fine, but only our village pigs kept dying. The year after that, when most of the pigs were dead, our village suffered from sheep plague. Neighboring villages were fine, only our village sheep kept dying. Later, a fortune-teller came to our village and said a deity had descended upon us."

"Holy crap! You're this old, how can you love kicking someone when they're down so much!" Young Master Liu glared at the two conniving old schemers, gnashing his teeth. He was about to retort, Why didn't you die during the pig plague year, Baldy Ma? But when he saw that Baldy Ma’s tobacco pipe was even larger than Old Man Wang’s, he swallowed those words back down.