Li Zhiyuan lifted his head, looking at the desk in front of him, the lamp, and the "Jianghu Chronicles" Volume Five which he had only flipped through a few pages of.
Indeed, he had fallen asleep; but he knew this was not a dream.
He couldn’t understand why, at the last moment, the old lady would choose to "release" him.
He didn’t want to use the word "rescue" because it was also she who had drawn him into this birthday celebration.
Perhaps, it is difficult to describe her with merely the simple labels of "good" and "evil," just as she herself was a combination of human and cat corpses, inherently a manifest of complex contradictions.
Li Zhiyuan closed his eyes, pressing his fingertips against his temples and slowly kneading.
When studying in Beijing, he always felt he was on a one-way street, the streams of cars and crowds dense, but that he only needed to follow the road straight ahead.
However, once he returned to his hometown, he discovered that although the roads were narrow and often pitted, and not crowded with cars and people, the interconnected field paths amidst the rice paddies often plunged him into a bewildered state of choice.
He could feel the changes within himself, especially since meeting Little Huang Ying these past few days, the transformations that had taken place.
He was observing more diligently, pondering more seriously, conversing more cautiously, and dealing with non-human beings... which was really not easy because there was no room for error.
All in all, he was becoming less and less like a child who should only be ten years old.
Being a child before was so simple.
Suddenly, Li Zhiyuan opened his eyes, exhibiting a look of shock.
Why would he think this way?
What did he mean by ’being a child used to be so simple’? He clearly is still a child.
He started to feel panicky, scared, his hands unconsciously hugging himself.
At that moment, what emerged in his mind was the image of him secretly watching his mother staring in the mirror every morning after rising.
His mother took deep breaths in front of the mirror, repeatedly trying to suppress something, as if it were about to burst forth from her skin.
Li Zhiyuan got up and walked to the wardrobe, where there was a mirror on the door.
Looking at his reflection, he suddenly felt a sense of estrangement.
He raised his hand, touching the mirror, and thus touching the face of his reflection.
He began to wonder, what sort of person lay beneath this facade.
He dared not continue thinking any further. He turned around, took deep breaths repeatedly, telling himself over and over in his heart: he is Li Zhiyuan, he is ten years old this year, his grandfather is Li Weihan, his grandmother is Cui Guiying, his Grandmaster is Li Sanjiang.
Finally, he regained his composure, and a childlike innocence appeared on his face.
Earlier, he had felt a terror, a terror every bit as overwhelming as the moment when the old lady with the cat face had discovered him in the kitchen.
Because he had a vague feeling, if he hadn’t stopped that train of thoughts just now and allowed it to continue, it was very likely that looking at himself in the mirror... he would reveal deep disgust.
Fortunately, he managed to suppress it in time, just as his mother had resumed her gentle smile after taking deep breaths in front of the mirror.
Li Zhiyuan shrugged his shoulders and checked the time; it was three-thirty in the morning.
Did he actually sleep, or not?
He didn’t feel like he had slept, yet he didn’t feel tired—on the contrary, he felt better than when he normally slept.
Could it be because his consciousness had detached from his body, allowing his body to rest completely without distractions?
Li Zhiyuan opened the door and stepped out, the night air at this time carrying a chill but also wrapped with some early morning dew.
Downstairs, it was quiet, or rather, it had never been noisy.
But he didn’t dare to go downstairs alone now, as rational feelings of safety could never overcome the fear of the unknown.
And at this moment, the Grandmaster’s bedroom window flickered, although not giving a standard SOS rhythm of three long, three short, but Li Zhiyuan quickly pushed open the bedroom door and entered.
In the bedroom, blood was flowing from Li Sanjiang, his left hand ceaselessly pulling the lamp cord by the bed.
His neck hurt badly, he couldn’t scream, he feared no one would see him, even more afraid that he might pull the cord too hard or the switch might snap up and get stuck.
Luckily, he saw Li Zhiyuan who had just entered through the door.
Li Sanjiang hadn’t yet weakly called out, reaching out his hand, then seeing his great-grandson not hesitate to run out the door.
Yes, he knew the child went to call for help, but still, Little Yuanhou not running to the bedside to anxiously interact felt somewhat hollow to him.
The comforting words "Grandmaster is alright", "Don’t cry, Little Yuanhou" that he had just brought to his lips, he had to swallow them back, feeling a bit stifled.
Li Zhiyuan ran downstairs, ignoring the fear on the first floor, the lights off, but the moonlight let him see the eastern area here, filled with paper figures.
Yes, these paper figures were still there, Li Zhiyuan even spotted the chubby master placed against the wall.
Most of the paper figures were made according to tradition, but on this basis, to meet the diverse market demands, some special ones were made according to the main family’s needs.
For example, if a main family worried their deceased relative might not eat well down below, they would burn a chef.
There were also some cases where the wives of men who passed away early worried about burning young maids down, fearing when they themselves went down there would be no place left for them, so they ordered some even older-looking old wives.