Chen Changsheng thought for a moment about how long he had known Yan Huanglou. Was it half a month, or three years…

He decided it must be three years.

This humble old man, ordinary as a Grain of Sand, seemed so different from everyone else.

He should have been an unserious sort of person, yet on that letter, he left behind especially serious words, each sentence crafted with deep care.

Like a goodbye.

It also felt like he was saying, there would be no more tea…

Even though Chen Changsheng guessed the likely outcome before leaving home, seeing it still made it very hard for him to calm his feelings.

He had hoped Yan Huanglou would take that Elixir, but things didn’t turn out that way…

When he thought about it, it made sense. After all, this was Yan Huanglou, the man who could spend a whole lifetime searching for the perfect fan.

…

Yan Huanglou had no wife, no children, no old friends. There was no way to hold a funeral. Chen Changsheng found a coffin shop in Qingshan City and ordered a top-quality coffin.

Candles burned in the mourning hall, the light lasting through the night. Only Chen Changsheng and Wang Sanniang kept watch there. There was no one else.

Ruyi and Ping’an had gone to bed early. These two young children were better off not seeing all this.

Wang Sanniang’s eyes were red. “Big Brother Chen, we need to find Uncle Lou a good resting place.”

“Don’t worry.”

Chen Changsheng answered and then went out.

That night, he left Qingshan City.

His destination was Zhenlong Mountain.

A small breeze stirred unexpectedly in the Qingxian Taoist Temple.

The Daoist Zhixuan, who had been meditating and cultivating in his quarters, saw the wind blow his door open.

With a flapping sound, he got up to close it.

As he turned back, he saw someone had already entered the room.

Daoist Zhixuan’s heart plummeted when he saw who it was. His legs went weak, and he knelt down.

“G-greetings, Heavenly Master!”

Cold sweat poured down Daoist Zhixuan. He knelt on the ground, his body trembling.

“That ritual robe…”

Chen Changsheng hadn’t even finished speaking when Daoist Zhixuan blurted out, “I’ve already had people rebury it! And we’ve even set up an altar offering incense daily. Please see this clearly, Heavenly Master!”

Chen Changsheng nodded, then said, “I come today not for official matters, but a private one.”

Daoist Zhixuan hastily replied, “Heavenly Master, please speak. I shall exert myself to the utmost.”

“An old friend of mine has passed away,” Chen Changsheng began. “I trouble you to find a place with good Feng Shui on this Green Mountain. Somewhere quiet would be best…” He paused, then corrected himself, “…Or somewhere lively instead.”

He thought about Lao Huang, alone for so many years. He probably would have preferred a lively spot.

“Following the Heavenly Master’s decree!”

Daoist Zhixuan didn’t dare delay even a little. He called his disciples together that same night to discuss it. By near dawn, they had found the place and dug the grave.

Early the next morning, they went into the city. They personally carried the coffin all the way up the mountain.

Rituals were performed to guide the wandering spirit.

Paper money was scattered thickly before the grave mound.

Then Chen Changsheng said, “Scatter more then.”

Daoist Zhixuan immediately sent disciples back to the city to buy more paper money. They kept scattering it until dusk.

From start to finish, Chen Changsheng only spoke those three words.

As the sun dipped towards the horizon,

Daoist Zhixuan was worn out, dizzy and bleary-eyed. He finally spoke up, “Heavenly Master, the sun is almost set.”

Chen Changsheng seemed to gather himself. He said, “You have worked hard, Daoist Priest. That will do.”

Daoist Zhixuan sighed inwardly with relief, then led his group of disciples away from the place.

Wang Sanniang stood behind Chen Changsheng with Ping’an and Ruyi.

Ruyi’s cold was much better. She asked, “Mommy, where is Grandpa Lou?”

Wang Sanniang pressed her lips together. “Your Grandpa Lou has gone to a very lively place.”

Ruyi looked at the small mound covered in paper money. She felt her mother was probably lying, but didn’t ask more. She was afraid she might hear something she didn’t want to know.

Ping’an remained silent the whole time, not saying a word.

Chen Changsheng pulled his gaze back. “It will be dark soon, Sanniang. Take Ping’an and Ruyi down the mountain early.”

“What about you, Big Brother Chen?”

“I’ll stay for a little longer.”

Wang Sanniang nodded in agreement and led the two children down the mountain.

Only Chen Changsheng was left before the grave mound now.

He stood there. He didn’t move for a long time.

The sky darkened completely. That night, there wasn’t a single star to be seen; the bright moon was hidden behind thick clouds.

Then came midnight, when a thin mist began to rise among the trees… then when some faint light gradually appeared in the sky…

The whole night long, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t even shift his feet.

It wasn’t until the sound of the rooster crow reached him that the Green-Robed Gentleman standing before the mound finally moved his steps and went down the mountain.

He returned to the courtyard. Chen Changsheng sat down on a chair and slept.

He slept like that until noon.

Only when the fierce midday sun hit his face did he stir groggily awake.

Chen Changsheng went into the kitchen and looked around. There was no warmed-up food on the stove, no steamed buns ready. The corners of the room all seemed colder, emptier.

Once in a while, a small breeze would find its way in.

Chen Changsheng actually felt a little chill creep over him.

…

Ruyi and Ping’an still came to Chen Changsheng’s place, like always.

That day, Ruyi asked, “Uncle Chen… will Grandpa Lou really never come back?”

Chen Changsheng froze at the question. Then asked, “Who told you that?”

Ruyi lowered her head. “Ruyi isn’t as little as Ping’an. I know some things… Mommy thinks I don’t understand anything. She lied, said Grandpa Lou went to a lively place… But I know…”

Chen Changsheng fell silent.

He sighed, reached out, and patted Ruyi’s head. But then he said something probably not meant for children.

“Everyone dies sometime,” he said slowly. “Some face death with anger or regret. Others… die from contentment. Your Grandpa Lou got what he truly wanted before he died. He accepted it willingly, happily. So Ruyi, you don’t have to feel too sad because of it. Even though Grandpa Lou knew he wasn’t coming back… he was happy to go.”

Ruyi’s lips trembled. Her eyes blinked rapidly, welling with tears.

She didn’t understand the words Uncle Chen was saying.

She sniffled a few times, then went quiet, silently starting her writing practice again.

Ping’an stayed quiet too. He seemed to be pondering what Uncle Chen had just said. On the ground, he slowly wrote the characters for ‘Died From Contentment’. He just stared at them for a long time.

Looking at these two children, Chen Changsheng couldn’t help but sigh silently again inside.

They were both sensible children. But understanding this… it wasn’t knowledge children their age should carry.

It was just the fault of the harsh world they lived in.

…

In the afternoon, Wang Sanniang came to the courtyard leading someone else, and fetched Ping’an and Ruyi home as well.

Aqing leaned against the doorway, watching Chen Changsheng sitting in the courtyard enjoying the cool air. She asked, “Aren’t you sad, Changsheng?”

“I am,” Chen Changsheng said, “a little sad.”

Aqing walked over and sat down. Then she added, “I got the Peach Grove back. Come on, I’ll take you to pick some peaches to eat.”

These years of traveling had rubbed off some Jianghu roughness onto the girl; she talked boldly and energetically.

Chen Changsheng asked, “Do I have to pay?”

Aqing laughed. “Not you.”