The next day.
"Haven't seen the kid in a year, how did his grip get so terrifyingly strong? Is this even our son? I felt like a black bear tripped me up last night, then locked my neck so tight I nearly choked to death."
"I told you both to take it easy, and look at you—you ended up thrown, didn't you?"
Early in the morning, hearing her husband's grumbling, Zhao Lanxiang didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
Father Lian sighed. "The boy's grown up. With a build like his, if you ask me, he ought to join the army..."
Halfway through, noticing his wife's expression sour, Father Lian hastily pivoted. "Aiya, look at you... Studying it is, then! Our boy's been sharp since he was little anyway, he'll make a name for himself no matter what."
Zhao Lanxiang had risen early. She boiled an egg for each of the three children, made several scallion stuffed flatbreads, and simmered a pot of coarse cornmeal porridge.
The couple were in a rush for work, eating as they talked. After a bit of casual chatter, the porridge in their bowls was nearly finished.
"Left meat coupons on the table! Eldest, go look around at noon and buy some meat. Take good care of your younger brother and sister, and get yourself a couple of new outfits too!"
Father Lian called out a couple of instructions, took a hearty bite of a flatbread, and wheeled out of the courtyard on his bicycle with one hand on the handlebar, carrying his wife on the back.
Inside the room, Lian Youming had actually woken up long ago. Sitting cross-legged before the window, he glanced toward the sun on the horizon, a brilliant gleam flashing across his eyes before vanishing.
This art of visual intimidation truly had something to it. Just as Yan Lingyun's letter had said, if practiced at the proper time, it didn't sting the eyes at all; instead, there was an extraordinary sensation of celestial light washing over his vision.
Exhaling a long breath and watching the wisp of white vapor curl from between his lips and tongue, Lian Youming reeled in his focus and pushed open the door.
Lian Shuang and Lian Lei were not up yet; one had her own room, while the other slept in their parents' bedroom.
The weather had turned cold, and both were lingering under the covers.
After washing up quickly, he went to wake the two little ones, helped his younger brother into his clothes, and washed his face.
At the dinner table, Lian Shuang wheedled, "My dearest brother, I want to eat candy."
Lian Youming peeled his boiled egg and split it evenly between the two little ones. "Little brother, what about you? What do you want?"
Lian Lei wore a tiger-head cap, his short little frame bundled tightly against the cold. Cradling a small bowl as he drank his porridge, his chubby cheeks dotted with bits of corn, he murmured, "Brother, I want malted milk."
Hearing that, Lian Shuang chimed in at once. "I want to drink it too!"
Seeing the eager looks in their eyes, Lian Youming couldn't help but chuckle. "All right. Keep a good eye on the house today and don't go running around. I'll bring some back when I return."
He finished the porridge in his bowl, grabbed another flatbread, and stepped out the door.
Judging by what the King of Scraps had said before, Mount Zhongnan had good things too. Naturally, Lian Youming had to check it out first, and perhaps hunt some game along the way.
Counting the time, the college entrance examination would take place in July of the following year. He still had more than half a year to prepare. Aside from studying, he had to do something else with his time.
Arriving at the King of Scraps' small courtyard, he found that the old man was uncharacteristically not tinkering with his chessboard, but sorting through a fresh heap of junk he had scavenged.
"Aiya, your legs and feet are bad, what are you fussing around for?"
Seeing the old man limping on one leg while climbing up and scrambling down, Lian Youming shoved the flatbread into his hand and rolled up his own sleeves to take over.
By the time they were done, the clothes he had just changed into reeked of the smells in the yard.
Munching on the flatbread, the King of Scraps turned and went inside, rummaging noisily through chests and cupboards. "What, looking to head up the mountain?"
Lian Youming said helplessly, "You know that too?"
"With that restless streak you've had since you were a boy, one roll of your eyes and I know what's on your mind." As he spoke, the old man suddenly pulled a booklet from a corner. "Here. Didn't you ask if any of those old books were still around? I found one."
Lian Youming was thrilled. He took it and looked; it was actually a blue-covered, thread-bound book.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk... You can tell at a glance this thing has age on it... Huh? Sleeping Dragon Gong? What's this?"
He flipped it open. Across its few thin pages, the illustrations showed neither fist and foot stance training nor internal breathing exercises, but rather figures lying reclined on their sides.
The King of Scraps enlightened him. "That's an art for sleeping."
Lian Youming wondered, "An art for sleeping? Could it be some kind of bedchamber art? But why is there only one person drawn?"
The King of Scraps' cheek twitched, nearly spitting out the bite of flatbread in his mouth. "Ignorant brat, thinking about bedchamber arts? That stuff's all heterodox nonsense. This is called 'Sleeping Dan Gong,' created by Patriarch Chen Tuan. It helps nourish the spirit and stabilize one's origin—and it'll keep you from having wet dreams, boy."
Lian Youming flipped through a few pages at random. Sure enough, each page illustrated a different sleeping posture.
He hesitated. "Does it actually work?"
Hearing this, the King of Scraps reached out to snatch it back. "Then give it back. I just lit the coal stove anyway."
Lian Youming hastily tucked the booklet into his coat. "Right, what about those ingredients for brewing tiger bone liquor you mentioned? Where are they on Mount Zhongnan? Point me in the right direction, and I'll go take a look now."
The King of Scraps raised a scruffy eyebrow. "Even if I told you, you wouldn't find them. Go wander around yourself first. Tomorrow I'll take you up the mountain... By the way, are your folks having you take a job or study?"
Lian Youming smiled. "Study, of course."
The old man nodded. "Studying is good. The more you read, the better you understand reason. When I get a chance, I'll make another trip out to the countryside. Might be able to pick up some ancient Daoist scriptures; when the time comes, you can look them over for me."
Having failed to get the directions he wanted, Lian Youming turned and ran off. "I'm not reading that stuff. It's like reading gibberish."
Watching the boy's retreating back, the King of Scraps' calm, unruffled eyes shifted with subtle emotion. "How did I never notice this kid possessed such character before? I only thought he was somewhat precocious. Yet in just this little while, he's actually managed to settle his mind... Could the heavens have taken pity on me, to grant me this at my age..."
...
The moment Lian Youming stepped out of the street, he ran into an acquaintance.
A slightly chubby, round-faced youth dressed in a blue factory uniform was riding a bicycle, his feet in Liberation sneakers pumping the pedals with furious speed so that the wheels practically smoked, half a steamed bun clamped in his mouth.
"Yang Hao, you overslept again, didn't you?"
Seeing Lian Youming, the youth's face lit up with delight, but he immediately rattled off at breakneck speed, "Bro, I gotta rush to work! Let's hang out in a couple days when I'm off, the usual spot—"
Before he could even finish the sentence, he had already shot off into the distance like an arrow from a bowstring.
By now, roadside stalls were setting up, selling soy milk, bean jelly, mianpi, and the like. It was bitterly cold, and vendors were rubbing their hands, stamping their feet, and exhaling clouds of steam, bustling with everyday life.
Lian Youming squeezed through the crowd and boarded a trolleybus. His physique had changed drastically, and his clothes at home no longer fit him well. He needed to get a couple of outfits first, then see if he could cash in those two large gold bars for some money.
Yet just as the trolleybus passed the Drum Tower, with passengers boarding and getting off, Lian Youming suddenly sensed an obscure gaze falling upon him from the crowd.
No mistake about it.
At first, the person had only cast a casual glance, but upon seeing him, the gaze visibly paused.
What was this about?
Someone is looking for me?
Lian Youming's thoughts shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly as an abrupt prickle of danger rose in his heart.
He had only returned home after a year away. Who would be searching for him? And through such a needle-in-a-haystack method?
"Seeking revenge?"
Without even thinking, Lian Youming was certain of the person's intent.
"An enemy."
Exhaling softly, his eyes flickered, and he already knew who it was.
Who else could it be but that gang of thieves from the train?
Lian Youming was not unprepared for this development, but he hadn't expected it to happen so fast.
At most, only two or three days had passed.
Looking at the person's furtive behavior and ingrained habit of keeping out of sight, eight or nine out of ten, he was a thief too.
"Could there be some master thief or gang leader in Xijing too?"
Lian Youming kept his expression impassive, continuing to look out the window.
Only when the trolleybus came to a stop did he push his way off, slipping swiftly into the flowing crowd.
Right on his heels, a short, scrawny young man in a green padded coat scrambled off after him. But perhaps running in too much haste, he lost a padded shoe in the press of bodies. Disoriented by the jostling crowd, he frantically retrieved his shoe and turned back to look, but Lian Youming was nowhere to be seen.
"Damn it! That's a thousand-yuan bounty! How could I have lost him?!"
Yet the youth did not linger. As if remembering something, he hurried off in the other direction.
Only when the other had run twenty or thirty meters away did Lian Youming step out from behind an old tree, his gaze dark and obscure.
"A bounty? Only a fucking thousand yuan?"
Chapter 65