Chen Changsheng said, “Your stall is all tidied up.”

“Hmm…”

Yan Huanglou acknowledged, then added, “I didn’t think I’d last any longer.”

“Here’s something for you.”

Chen Changsheng spoke and placed an Elixir into Yan Huanglou’s palm.

“What is it?” Yan Huanglou asked.

Chen Changsheng replied, “The Elixir for Immortality. Will you take it?”

Yan Huanglou chuckled weakly. “You really haven’t got much conscience, cough cough…”

“And here I am, dying, while you tease me.”

Chen Changsheng asked, “Remember what I asked you before?”

“What?”

“To live for a couple more years.”

Yan Huanglou thought back, pausing before saying, “That was a joke, wasn’t it?”

Silence settled over the room.

Seeing Chen Changsheng kept quiet,

Yan Huanglou’s heart skipped a beat, as if he’d realized something.

With effort, he turned his head towards Chen Changsheng.

Chen Changsheng spoke evenly, “It wasn’t a joke.”

Yan Huanglou stayed silent for a while.

Truth was, he believed. No solid proof came to mind, but he trusted Chen Changsheng’s words were true.

“You’re hardly ever this serious.”

“Hmm.”

Chen Changsheng simply grunted, then added, “That Elixir might not grant immortality, but it can extend your life by three years.”

“So incredible?”

Yan Huanglou suddenly broke into a smile.

Chen Changsheng said, “If you don’t want it, give it back.”

“I do!”

“Of course I want it!”

Yan Huanglou tucked the Elixir closer to his body, muttering, “Who ever heard of giving something then wanting it back?”

Chen Changsheng said nothing more. Waving a hand, he rose. “Heard from Wang Sanniang that Ruyi’s sick. I’m gonna check on her.”

“Alright,” Yan Huanglou responded.

Chen Changsheng left the room and headed to the neighboring courtyard.

The house fell silent.

Yan Huanglou’s gaze drifted to the Elixir in his palm.

He stared at it a long time, struck still by its meaning.

Wang Sanniang brought out a few treatable snacks to offer Chen Changsheng.

“No need for formalities, Sanniang. Let’s see Ruyi first.”

“Alright, okay.”

Ruyi lay in bed, lips pale and complexion noticeably off.

An occasional cough shook her frame.

Chen Changsheng saw her and said, “This bad?”

Wang Sanniang explained, “Last night was truly frightening—nonstop coughing, her whole face ghostly white. Saw Doctor Wang early today. Some medicine helped… eased it a little.”

Chen Changsheng stepped forward and placed his fingers on Ruyi’s wrist.

“Brother Chen knows medicine?” Wang Sanniang asked.

“I know a little.”

He spoke modestly, but Chen Changsheng had little real medical skill. At best, he grasped medical principles. Actual healing wasn’t his expertise; but then again, saving lives wasn’t limited to medicine alone.

A faint Golden Light traveled deep inside Ruyi. Instantly, her illness lay bare to him.

Just a common cold, but stubbornly fierce.

The root cause was Ruyi’s body was too weak, likely weakened by years of scarce meals. That let an ordinary cold ravage her fiercely.

“Uncle Chen, is Elder Sister gonna get better soon?” Ping An’s small voice piped up nearby.

Chen Changsheng guided a trace of Magical Power inside Ruyi, then withdrew his hand.

“Your sister will be healthy before long.”

He placed a hand reassuringly on Ping An’s head, sending another wisp of Magical Power within him.

This Magical Power served no grand purpose. It’d slowly reinforce their bones and flesh, mending the fragility poor nourishment caused. Small sicknesses wouldn’t threaten their lives now.

Ping An nodded, relieved. “That’s good.”

He trusted Uncle Chen completely.

Chen Changsheng stood to look at Wang Sanniang. They walked outside the room. Once outside the girls’ hearing, he said, “Definitely just a cold, Sanniang. Try not to fret.”

Wang Sanniang still looked uneasy. “Doctor Wang said cold too… But I never got this sick with one myself. Made me panicky.”

“Ruyi’s illness is worse because her body was too weak. Those hungry years you mentioned likely lie behind it.” Chen Changsheng explained gently. “She’ll suffer more discomfort and need extra medicine, that’s all. Not truly dangerous.”

“Understood.” Wang Sanniang breathed out, shoulders visibly relaxing. Then tears welled. “…Just means I failed as their mother…”

Chen Changsheng said firmly, “Raising two children alone in chaotic times is hardship enough. Far harder for a woman like you. Don’t carry this burden.”

Tears slipped silently down Wang Sanniang’s cheeks. She wiped them quickly, taking several steadying breaths.

“Thank you, Brother Chen.”

“I did little,” Chen Changsheng dismissed. “If there’s nothing else, I should head back. Also… best Ruyi stays indoors awhile. Once the sun’s strong, let it warm her. Shield her from cold breezes.”

“Yes, yes… I’ll walk you out.”

“Just few steps. See yourself back.”

Chen Changsheng left the Wang home, returning to his own courtyard first. He pushed the reassembled stall deeper into the main room.

His step stalled. His focus shifted towards Yan Huanglou’s shut door.

He stood briefly, motionless, before walking towards that door.

Inside lay deeper stillness.

Yan Huanglou bent unmoving over the aged table’s scarred wood, as though deep asleep.

Chen Changsheng reached the table. His eyes found a half-written letter laid open.

Beside the unfinished words rested one Unconsumed Elixir… and the old Folding Fan.

He hadn’t taken it.

Chen Changsheng picked up the letter.

Yan Huanglou knew words; could write. Years dulled fluency, though. The letters sprawled unevenly, clumsy across the page.

Written faintly, it read:

> [Changsheng,

> Thanks for the Elixir.

> You claimed it adds three years; yet I refused to swallow it. Not disbelief. Truth is… long ago, I knew you weren’t ordinary. But some truths lose their charm spoken aloud. Maybe you felt the same?

> I often wonder what life truly holds. Wealth? Fame? Or… hollow nothings? All of it feels empty sometimes. Memories seem more real to me—old faces, past moments. Like the decades wasted chasing down this Fan’s history…

> But those faces faded one by one. Things worthy of remembrance grew fewer by the day. That’s when ‘solitude’ truly sank its claws in. Meeting you eased my later years. Someone to talk to matters—someone human. Even if your strangeness often baffled me, you remain the sole friend my fading twilight knew.

>

> Yet I understand: freedom calls your spirit. Qingshan City is too small a cage for you. I’ve lived long enough… grown weary… tired. I just waited patiently for this final quiet day.

> Changsheng, immortality… must surely tire you?

> Deep down, I knew all along. Playfulness just… hid discomfort, I suppose. Made it easier to tease holes in your gravity.]

At this point, ink smudged wildly; letters grew barely legible. Likely his final ounce of fading effort:

> [Silver saved… beneath the second tree… Hu Mountain road outside the city. Remember… claim it.]

> [Don’t… worry……]

Chen Changsheng stood frozen after reading the last faint scribble.

Silence clung thick around him for many long breaths.

He finally murmured aloud,

“Since when… did you become so serious…”

A sharp, lonely sigh echoed abruptly through the small room moments later.