11. The Mischievous Child

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That night, Jiang Zhu tossed and turned, struggling with insomnia. He wasn’t sure if it was because he had eaten too much and was overly full, or because of what Shen Qingyue had said. He couldn’t fall asleep. It had been a long time since he had eaten so much. The last time he was this full was when his father was still alive. Back then, he had just learned how to set traps and had caught a plump wild pheasant in the autumn. His father had stewed it, and almost all of it was for him. He was so full he wandered around the yard several times. The two of them spent the evening collecting stones under the moonlight and playing with slingshots.

Before his father passed away, he had advised Jiang Zhu to hide his money well, not to wear fine clothes, not to eat too well, and to visit his eldest uncle and maternal uncles often. His eldest uncle and his cousins treated him kindly, though his eldest uncle wasn’t very talkative and often asked the cousin to bring him some tofu to eat. The cousin’s family was also struggling, as making tofu was hard work and raising children was not easy. They often sent him some food but never urged him to eat more or better.

His grandmother didn’t like him, and being very old, he avoided troubling her. His maternal uncle’s family lived far away and worked for a wealthy household, living better than the village farmers but with many restrictions and inconveniences. Jiang Zhu turned over and lay on his pillow, gazing at the moon outside, thinking about the words of Shen Qingyue and his father. Though their advice was completely opposite, he knew both meant well. The moon that night was large and full; he wondered if immortals really lived up there.

He wasn’t sure if Shen Qingyue was truly an immortal, but he firmly believed in the existence of immortals. Otherwise, how could his father have taken him in and raised him, and how could he have found Shen Qingyue? Unable to sleep, Jiang Zhu finally got up to move around. Shen Qingyue, who was dozing, heard noises from the backyard. He climbed up, pushed open the window, and saw the energetic young Master Jiang playing with a slingshot late at night. Shen Qingyue was speechless; he felt too old to understand such youthfulness.

Early the next morning, a rabbit was stewed in the pot. Shen Qingyue remarked quietly. Young Master Jiang was considerate; knowing he might be allergic, the rabbits were all cleaned by the stream before being brought back. There were two extras alive, kept in a cage at the corner of the front yard, far enough away from Shen Qingyue. He had even changed his clothes. With meat, dipping the cold cakes into the broth was delicious. Jiang Zhu was spirited, eating heartily, and thoughtfully stir-fried a plate of baby bok choy for Shen Qingyue. It was cooked with oil and very little salt, preserving its original fresh taste.

Shen Qingyue couldn’t help but ask, “Did you sleep last night?” Jiang Zhu shook his head, “I wasn’t sleepy.” Shen Qingyue frowned, “You went out at midnight to catch rabbits on the mountain?” Jiang Zhu replied, “There are many rabbits at night; they’re easier to catch.” Shen Qingyue felt speechless, “I wasn’t craving rabbit enough to have you stay up all night to catch them.” Jiang Zhu smiled sheepishly, “I just couldn’t sleep, so I went.” There had been one alive yesterday, three more were caught last night; they ate one, so there were still three live rabbits.

Shen Qingyue asked, “What will you do with them? Do you want to keep them?” Jiang Zhu didn’t want to raise rabbits; it was too troublesome. He asked, “Do you want to eat them?” Shen Qingyue shook his head. No matter how tasty, he didn’t want to eat it every day, especially since Jiang Zhu’s cooking was nowhere near gourmet. Young Master Jiang’s culinary skills were really lacking.

“Then I’ll take them to town to sell.” “You’re going to the market?” “Yes.” Jiang Zhu dipped half a flatbread into the broth. He liked these large pieces, half-soft, half-firm, with a meaty flavor around the edges and a bit of chewiness inside. “I’ll find a stonemason to make a millstone.” His family only had an old rice pounder, no millstone. Previously, his father would go to the village to grind flour, but he wasn’t keen on going. Shen Qingyue wanted fine flour, so buying a small millstone would be just right; he also liked eating noodles, so one small millstone would be enough for both of them.

Shen Qingyue was amazed by Jiang Zhu’s initiative. No wonder the boy could support himself alone. “Aren’t you tired? Sleep first, then go this afternoon or tomorrow.” Jiang Zhu shook his head, “It’s cooler now, and there will be more people at the market.” Rabbits sold better than baskets and sieves. He would first try to trade with the stonemason; if he could exchange rabbits for the millstone, he wouldn’t have to sell them. If not, he’d at least find out what the stonemason wanted or try to sell the rabbits for cash.

After eating, Jiang Zhu slung a large bamboo basket over his back. Along with a cage of rabbits, he also carried various household items he had collected: small and large bamboo baskets, sieves, brushes, bamboo mats, and so on. Shen Qingyue had intended to ask him to bring the basket he wove to exchange for some rice, but seeing Jiang Zhu load more and more until his straight back bent slightly under the weight, he lost the mood to ask.

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He didn’t want to help Jiang Zhu pack anymore and even wanted to lighten his load. “Can’t you just take the rabbits?” Jiang Zhu looked puzzled and explained, “These don’t sell out every time; I need to sell multiple times.” So whenever he went to the market, he tried to bring as much as possible. No one knew which day what would sell well or poorly. Bringing more meant more chances to sell more.

Shen Qingyue saw him off at the door. “If you get tired, rest for a bit.” “Okay, once I reach the foot of the mountain, I’ll go to my eldest brother’s house to borrow a cart.” “Okay.” Shen Qingyue smiled, standing at the doorway watching Jiang Zhu walk alone down the mountain carrying the large basket. His short frame was almost completely hidden behind the load, even his head covered. The more he looked, the more stifled he felt.

Only now did he truly realize how the food he had despised came to be. He felt ashamed of himself. He was overwhelmed with guilt, but that silly boy still made a great effort to turn around, look back at him for a moment, and smile foolishly. Shen Qingyue couldn’t smile back and felt irritated, not wanting to watch any longer. He silently called Jiang Zhu a “fool,” closed the door, and went inside.

Lying on the bed, he felt uncomfortable all over and began to reflect on whether he had really lived seriously. If he were Jiang Zhu, could he endure such hardship? Even if he weren’t sick, could he live like Jiang Zhu? Probably not. He couldn’t bear hardship or suffering and often felt like giving up on life. He felt a bit guilty but still thought he hadn’t done anything wrong. But if he hadn’t lied to Jiang Zhu, the boy wouldn’t have suffered so much today.

He had never been able to help, only causing trouble for those around him. He wanted to help but didn’t know how. Even in another world, it was the same. Every time he tried to do something, it only caused others more trouble. It was the same now and before. He wanted to work, but his father forbade it. After a big fight, he attempted suicide out of spite but failed. This caused the aunt who had cared for him for years to miss a family vacation to take care of him.

Eventually, his father was scared, not wanting negative news about his son’s suicide attempt, so he relented. But Shen Qingyue quarreled with every client, failing to secure a single project for half a year. When he finally found a client who respected his creativity, it turned out they were doing it out of respect for his parents, not him. He contributed to one of his father’s few losing businesses. His father was right: he was his family’s misfortune.

His parents’ once-happy life had become a tangled mess because of him, nearly ending in divorce. Raising him was a loss; it would have been better to raise a dog that obeyed. Shen Qingyue knew he wasn’t in a good state. Why couldn’t he remember some happiness? He even felt like smoking. Asthma prohibited smoking, but he had secretly smoked for years, cleverly hiding cigarettes from his aunt and often angering her to chase and scold him.

Their family was good bamboo, but he was the bad shoot, now causing trouble for others’ good bamboo. Shen Qingyue really wanted a smoke. He had a pack in his backpack, had just opened it, and was about to light one when he suddenly heard a noise in the backyard. A wild animal? Holding the cigarette in his mouth, he crept to the window and saw five or six children climbing over the fence to steal the little bok choy that even Jiang Zhu himself was reluctant to eat.

Shen Qingyue was speechless. Whose little brats were these? “What are you doing?!” The children, caught with their pants down, were startled and pushed down part of the fence while climbing back. Shen Qingyue was dumbfounded. “Who, who are you?” “Why are you in the house of an unwanted bastard?” “Are you here to steal?” “Unwanted bastard?” They called that poor kid that? Shen Qingyue smiled and said, “Which family’s little thief bastards are you?”

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“You’re the thief!” “You’re the bastard!” “Beat him up!” “Come on!” Shen Qingyue didn’t use his cane but grabbed a bamboo stick leaning by the bed, lifted it, propped open the window, and climbed out. He started swinging it at the approaching mischievous children.

“Ouch!” “Ah!” Shen Qingyue showed no mercy, not sparing them because they were kids. Having never fought in over twenty years, he didn’t realize how hard children could hit. His injured leg and being outnumbered made a prolonged fight unfavorable, so he tried to scare off a few first. Sure enough, the ringleader, Jiang Hongliang, noticed the bandage on his leg and ordered loudly, “Kick his right leg!”

Against peers, Shen Qingyue might not have much advantage, but he was quite capable of taking on several ten-year-olds. He first knocked away one about to kick his leg, then pushed off another grabbing his arm. After a while, someone sneaked behind to grab his bamboo stick, and two others prepared to kick him. Shen Qingyue simply let go of the stick, flicked open his lighter.

“Ahhh!” A child burned by the lighter’s flame screamed, releasing his grip on the stick and clutching his arm, crying out. The others stared in shock at the still-smoking lighter, retreating in fear. Even Jiang Hongliang was scared. “Who, who are you?” “I, I am... an immortal who punishes evil and promotes good!” The children watched as he calmly closed the lighter with a “click” and exhaled smoke.

“...” Shocked! “Big brother, he, he, he can blow smoke!” The smallest child’s voice nearly cracked. “That’s a trick!” Jiang Hongliang, more experienced, said calmly, “I’ve seen fire blowing in the county town!” Shen Qingyue smiled, flicking the lighter on and off between his fingers, leaving the children stunned. Unfortunately, the visual effect was lacking during the day.

As the smoke was nearly gone, Shen Qingyue blew smoke in their direction, pretending to be mystical and intimidating, “Not convinced? Come again.” Jiang Hongliang actually stepped forward. It was impressive but too simple a routine. Shen Qingyue didn’t hold back. Spotting Jiang Hongliang as the ringleader, he grabbed him by the collar, pinned him against the wall, and singed part of his hair with the lighter.

Everyone: “...” “Convinced?” “No!” “Fine.” Shen Qingyue burned a hole in his shirt. The heat was close to his skin, causing a burning and stinging sensation, singeing even the hair. Jiang Hongliang finally got scared and burst into tears. Shen Qingyue released him and even kindly brushed off the sparks on his shirt. With no wind, the lighter’s flame was stable, and Shen Qingyue was careful, never intending to really burn him. Besides, the boy had run up the mountain sweating, his clothes damp, making it easy to burn a small hole but not to catch fire.

Shen Qingyue had no shame in bullying children, wearing a disdainful, mocking expression: “Get lost. If anyone dares come again, it won’t be just a little fire.” The children, holding their sore bottoms, hurriedly climbed the fence to flee. Shen Qingyue called out sternly, “Wait! Fix the fence!” The children, sulking and nearly in tears, reluctantly put the fence back up.

Shen Qingyue warned, “If you curse again, this immortal will sew your mouths shut in your dreams.” The children, frightened, covered their mouths and ran down the mountain. After some distance, one whispered, “He must be a monster!” After the kids were gone, Shen Qingyue limped, grimacing as he hobbled back with his crutch. His unlucky foot was surely twisted again, the pain making him want to cry.