Chapter 66: Dead Grandpa Goes Pay-to-Win

The people outside called out again. “Master Chen? Master Chen, are you ready yet?”

“If we’re any later, we’ll miss the auspicious hour.”

Thanks to his experience from the previous time, Chen Ji stayed much calmer than before. Once he realized this was a dream—and one constructed by a family member at that—it wasn’t as hard to accept as he had imagined.

He had analyzed it carefully. This was actually a dream within a dream. The first layer had started when Uncle Zhou called him down the mountain to handle something in the village, mentioning a generous offering of oil money. Chen Ji had borrowed the Mountain Lord’s name to decline, and Uncle Zhou hadn’t pressed the issue, simply vanishing. Chen Ji had wanted to ask the Mountain Lord if he could survive, but he passed out while throwing the moon blocks and saw a pair of red birthday shoes, which pulled him into the second layer.

In other words, no matter if someone was scheming against him this time, if he followed Uncle Zhou down the mountain first, he could avoid the red birthday shoes entirely.

Chen Ji pulled open the drawer and spotted the familiar wooden box containing the talismans. Only then did he notice that the hand reaching out to open the box was dark and rough—not his own hand, but most likely his grandfather’s.

So, was this dream something his grandfather had experienced? What was Grandpa trying to warn him about?

“Master Chen? Sir? Not ready yet?”

Chen Ji grabbed several of the most powerful talismans from the box. Recalling his grandfather’s personality, he called back, “Hold your horses—I know what I’m doing! Why the rush? You’re gonna make me piss myself!”

Uncle Zhou and his two nephews burst into laughter outside. Uncle Zhou chuckled and scolded them, “Hear that? Can’t rush your Uncle Chen, or we’ll all piss ourselves!”

He changed tack abruptly. “Hurry it up already! Don’t let a little face go to your head and turn you into some big shot! Get your ass out here, pronto! Can you even walk anymore? Should I have my two nephews carry you down in a sedan chair?”

Chen Ji stuffed the talismans into the pockets of his clothes—an old-style Zhongshan suit from his grandfather’s era, with plenty of pockets to spare. He tried stepping toward the door and found his legs and feet weren’t very nimble; he didn’t notice it at a slow pace, but it became obvious when he moved faster.

He opened the door to reveal Uncle Zhou’s face. The man stood in the sunlight, a cigarette in hand, waving casually with that familiar grin as a greeting. The two young ones looked up and beamed. “Hello, Uncle Chen!”

Chen Ji nodded, not stepping out. “No need to rush. There’s a custom here—no one enters the temple without paying respects. Come in and light some incense for Grandpa Mountain Lord, kowtow a couple times, then we’ll go.”

The two boys had no objections and hurried inside to burn incense and bow. Chen Ji turned to Uncle Zhou. “What are you standing around for, old man? Get in here!”

Uncle Zhou replied, “Just finishing this smoke.”

Chen Ji nodded and waited by the door. Uncle Zhou polished off the cigarette in a few quick puffs, went in to kowtow before the Mountain Lord, and Chen Ji followed suit, lighting three sticks of incense. Then they headed down the mountain together.

Uncle Zhou’s two sons carried Chen Ji in a sedan chair. They moved quickly and smoothly the whole way, with the wind itself seeming to push them downhill, lightening their steps even more. Uncle Zhou walked alongside the chair. “You’re living the life, kid!”

Chen Ji squinted his eyes, hands tucked into his sleeves. “Then when my boy gets back, should he carry you to the city for treatment?”

“Pah! Bad luck!” Uncle Zhou laughed and cursed. “Can’t you say something nice for once?”

What kind of situation would require the Chen Family boy to carry him to the city? Either his own sons were unfilial beasts, or they were both dead. Talk about jinxing it!

Chen Ji chuckled and chatted idly with Uncle Zhou. Midway, they switched places—Chen Ji walked while Uncle Zhou rode in the sedan, hollering at his sons to carry him. The boys’ laughter rang out so loud it could probably be heard all the way down in the village.

Chen Ji walked a few steps and didn’t find his legs bothering him much; the pace wasn’t fast, after all. Uncle Zhou lit a cigarette in the chair and handed him one. Casually, he remarked, “I thought it was kinda weird that I finally got you to come down the mountain this time. Didn’t you say you’d washed your hands of it all?”

Chen Ji mumbled vaguely. “Made a promise before. Can’t exactly back out.”

“Fair enough.” Uncle Zhou took a drag, the smoke clouding his features. Then he added, “Speaking of, where’s your little grandson? Wasn’t he up on the mountain with you? You left him alone in the temple—nothing’ll happen, right?”

Chen Ji paused, a strange feeling rising inexplicably in his chest, but he replied steadily, “He’ll be fine. What could happen to him in the temple?”

Uncle Zhou nodded, agreeing. After all, kids around here ran wild all over the village—what could go wrong? The well had a cover, the temple doors were locked. What trouble could a child get into?

The sunlight bathed everyone in a gentle, watery warmth. Uncle Zhou said, “The village went too far this time… Tsk. They only get scared after the mess blows up. You shouldn’t have gone soft on them either—let ’em rot in jail and learn their lesson!”

Chen Ji wanted to ask what jail time he was talking about when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a black shadow flashing past. His heart jolted. He deliberately panted a couple times, and Uncle Zhou had his sons stop the sedan, grumbling, “With that busted body of yours, you still wanna make it to your grandson’s wedding feast? Let’s get a move on!”

Chen Ji climbed back into the sedan. A twitching pain shot through his legs—was it his imagination? He felt like he’d just glimpsed Second Master Huang, but it didn’t quite seem like him either. Regardless, he couldn’t delay any longer; he had the distinct sense of being watched. Better hurry to Shangyang Village.

Shangyang Village was unusually lively today. They hadn’t even entered yet when colorful banners and red cloths came into view from afar. Chen Ji narrowed his eyes, taking it all in.

It looked like a celebration, but if it involved jail time and lawsuits—and everyone getting ‘roused’ up—why the festive lights and decorations? Was it a funeral turned into a party?

Didn’t seem like it.

Chen Ji had always been steady and unflappable. When villagers greeted him, he just nodded coolly. No one pressed him with questions. Uncle Zhou’s sons pulled him to the main table and sat him down properly. Soon, the village head bustled over, beaming. “Master Chen, you made it!”

Chen Ji eyed the lavish spread before them—it looked like they’d have to finish the meal before getting to business—so he just exchanged a few polite words. The village head brought over a young couple and pointed them out. “These two are our benefactors this time—a proper dragon-phoenix pair! Have a seat with us!”

A dragon-phoenix pair?

Chen Ji wondered if they’d sold off the kids. No—sold the dragon-phoenix twins and then called his grandpa to help them recuperate and have more? Would his grandfather treat people like that?

Surely not.

His eye twitched. It felt more like they’d lost the children, regretted it, and come begging his grandpa to divine some clues so they could search.

The young couple bowed deeply to Chen Ji before timidly taking seats on the south side of the Eight Immortals table. Chen Ji sat alone on the north, the village head on the west, and the schoolteacher mister took the east.

The seating said it all: Chen Ji in the place of highest honor, followed by the village head, then the schoolteacher, and finally the young couple.

It was also curious that the schoolteacher—the village’s educated man—would sit at the same table as his grandfather.

Once everyone had arrived, the village head stood with a joyful expression. “Today is our victory feast! Shangyang Village’s ritual went off without a hitch. Surely the next three years will bring fine weather for crops and bountiful harvests. The Da Nan Couple are the heroes here— a toast to the Da Nan Couple!”

Shangyang Village was small; the whole place barely filled thirty tables—and that was back in his grandfather’s day. In 2024, ten tables would be pushing it.

Everyone in the village rose. The young couple stood in a daze and accepted the toast. Chen Ji hesitated about standing but saw the schoolteacher remain seated, so he stayed put too.

After the toast, everyone’s faces flushed with a bit of color. The village head prattled on with speeches about unity and brighter days ahead. Chen Ji listened, feeling an odd discomfort. He glanced discreetly at Uncle Zhou, who was smirking as he chatted with his sons. Spotting Chen Ji, Uncle Zhou raised his cup in a distant salute.

Chen Ji ate the meal like it was wax, barely tasting a thing. At long last, it ended. The village head was thoroughly drunk by then, slurring as attendants supported him while he mumbled to the young couple, “You two… got troubles! Troubles, find… find the master! He… he knows!”

The schoolteacher glared coldly at Chen Ji and pointed at him. “You won’t meet a good end!”

With that, he flicked his sleeve and stormed off.

The schoolteacher had gone to junior high—a real scholar in those days. No one knew why he’d ended up teaching for twenty or thirty years in this godforsaken backwater village. But he had the backbone of a true literati: he took only the salary he was owed, refused all gifts from parents, scolded and punished as needed, even beat students right in front of their folks—and always with reason. Parents left convinced and grateful.

For him to say something like that publicly meant the matter was grave.

Chen Ji wondered just what his grandfather had done.

Once the crowd thinned out, the young couple dropped to their knees before Chen Ji with a thud, kowtowing frantically. Before he could even reach to stop them, blood trickled from their foreheads. They cried out hoarsely, “Sir, we didn’t know! We truly had no idea!!! If we had, how could we bear to let our own flesh and blood suffer like this!”

“Sir, they say you’re a man of great ability. Please, we’re begging you! We don’t want the money or anything else—just bring back Da Ni’er and Da Ge’er. We’ll do anything! Please, sir!”

Chen Ji didn’t know much, but he knew it involved those two children. Keeping his voice low, he said, “Something like this, and you claim you didn’t know?”

The woman lunged forward, clutching his leg and sobbing. “…Those damned people just said some wealthy family wanted a gold boy and jade girl to raise. My husband Da Nan and I… my mother-in-law was sick at home… I didn’t have enough milk… keeping them meant feeding them too, and we were afraid someone in the family would starve to death! That’s why we agreed! We never imagined—we really didn’t know—!”

“They’re the flesh that fell from my own body! I thought they’d gone off to some wealthy household to live as young masters and young ladies—who would have thought they were sent away for the Mountain Sacrifice! Please, sir, show some mercy and let Da Ni’er and Da Ge’er come home!”

Mountain Sacrifice.

The moment those two words left her lips, Chen Ji felt a chill run down his spine.

In stark contrast to the turbulent waves churning in his heart, his expression remained as calm as a placid lake. “Three days. You only came looking for me after three days—isn’t that too late?”

Those words sent the young couple into utter collapse, sobbing uncontrollably. Uncle Zhou walked over and placed a hand on Chen Ji’s shoulder. “Old Chen, isn’t that exactly why you came here?”

Chen Ji looked up, his voice laced with sarcasm. “Two infants who still need nursing—left alone in the mountains for three days with no one to care for them. How am I supposed to save them?”