Whichever of the children lost their key could come collect it from him when they grew up.
“The Old Village Chief was just afraid of accidents,” Second Aunt Yang explained for him. “He kept watch. Had the well sealed, then locked the gate up again.”
“I know,” Qiao Ning said. “He’s a man of great standing—thorough, too.”
If a child had truly drowned in that well, he’d have felt terrible too.
Hearing this, the grannies smiled. Who didn’t love a polite young man with a nice way of speaking?
They praised him as educated—even his compliments had style, with fancy words at that. The Old Village Chief would be delighted to hear it.
Then they asked if he was still in school. Hearing he was about to graduate from university, their eyes all lit up.
Universities had expanded enrollment, sure—but in a poor, remote mountain village with modest schooling and scarce educational resources, few children made it in.
In the village, a university student was still a rare treasure.
“A university student! Extraordinary—a true man of learning!”
“I could tell when this boy was small—clever, with a clever face. I always said he’d make something of himself.”
“Old Qiao can rest easy now, with a grandson this accomplished.”
“The Ji Family boy seemed no ordinary fellow either. Forgot to ask last time—is he a university student too?”
“Certainly is. I asked—he studies medicine. You’d have to be a university student to do that!”
“These two brothers—both capable…”
Qiao Ning’s heart lurched. Ji Baiqing… had gone into medicine? Because he’d been sick so often as a child, he’d grown up to become a doctor himself?
He burned with curiosity, aching to ask more about Ji Baiqing—but some stubborn, unnameable reluctance in his chest made him pretend to be absorbed in the courtyard, as if he hadn’t heard.
The grannies chatted a bit more, the topic circling back to showering Qiao Ning with praise.
Learning he was a university student, they grew warmer still. Qiao Ning flushed from all the compliments—and seeing it, the grannies praised him MORE: so handsome and fine-looking, he’d surely have no trouble finding a wife. Girls these days all went for looks, and Qiao Ning was a university student on top of that! (heavy stress on university student)
Granny Wang the Sixth said, “You mean you don’t look at faces?”
The others just laughed and said nothing. Granny Yang the Third, well along in years and past caring, drawled slowly: “Course we look. Who doesn’t? Someone ugly—I wouldn’t even want to sleep next to him.”
The blush spread from Qiao Ning’s cheeks to the back of his ears. He’d genuinely never encountered this—grannies talking so boldly he didn’t dare listen.
Everyone burst out laughing at Granny Yang the Third’s words, and seeing Qiao Ning’s fair face painted red, they laughed louder still.
“All right, all right—the young one’s thin-skinned.” Second Aunt Yang kindly rescued him, steering the topic away. “The locks in your house were worn out—your brother replaced them. Forgot to mention: you’ll need to collect the keys from the Old Village Chief.”
“I’ll go right now.” The heat hadn’t left Qiao Ning’s face; he was eager for an excuse to step out and breathe.
“I’ll show you the way,” Second Aunt Yang said. “You don’t know where the Old Village Chief lives, do you?”
Qiao Ning thanked her quickly and went out with her, suitcases left in the yard under the grannies’ watch.
Qiao Ning had some impression of where the Old Village Chief lived—vaguely recalled the direction—but the village had changed so much that everything looked foreign. He could only follow Second Aunt Yang, memorizing the route as they walked.
A pack of little kids came giggling and running past. One little girl stopped as they went by and announced loudly: “Wow—a big star!”
All the children stopped, staring curiously at Qiao Ning.
A round-headed little boy shouted at Second Aunt Yang: “Granny!”
The other children chattered like little sparrows: “Auntie Two! Granny Two! Granny Yang!”
One of them, like Qiao Ning, called her Second Aunt Yang—clearly a generation above his little playmates.
Second Aunt Yang beckoned, and the children came running. Patting their heads, she introduced them one by one: “This is Yang Zhifei’s son, Chenchen—chen as in morning. This is Third Uncle Wang’s grandson, Taotao. This little girl is Carpenter Dong’s—Dong Xinyue; just call her Yueyue. This is Wang Jun’s son, Wang Zi…”
Second Aunt Yang wore the same baffled expression she had over her own grandson’s nickname. “His whole given name is just one word, ‘Zi.’ So you call him Wang Zi straight out.”
Qiao Ning kept smiling. It was fine, really—he’d seen stranger names. In his past life he’d had a coworker named Fang Xiangpan—surname Fang, given name Xiangpan. Colleagues loved teasing that the man had entered the wrong profession: should’ve been a driver, ended up a coder instead.
“Me too, me too!” The round-headed boy, discovering he’d been skipped, bounced in distress.
Second Aunt Yang laughed. “This is my grandson, Little Tangyuan.”
Then she introduced Qiao Ning to the children: “This is your Grandpa Qiao’s—”
Halfway through, she remembered the generational math was off and restarted. “Taotao, this is your Grandpa Qiao’s grandson. Call him Older Brother. The rest of you should call him Uncle, understood?”
“Which Grandpa Qiao?”
“Why call him Uncle? He doesn’t look like an uncle.”
“Taotao doesn’t look like an uncle either—he’s our age!”
“Well I’m not calling Taotao ‘Uncle’ anyway.”
“Stop!” Second Aunt Yang cracked down. “Fine, skip Taotao, but you all call him Uncle Little Qiao.”
The children didn’t fight it, falling over each other to shout “Uncle Little Qiao”—even Taotao joined in.
Second Aunt Yang didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “What are YOU calling uncle for? You call him Older Brother.”
Taotao tilted his head back and grinned goofily, jostling among his little friends, shoving and being shoved.
Qiao Ning patted his pocket. He still had snacks—but not on him. He’d be living in the village anyway; he’d make it up to the children later.
Perhaps because strangers were rare, the children all stared at Qiao Ning. After a while, Dong Xinyue blurted: “Uncle Little Qiao, are you a big star?”
Qiao Ning couldn’t help laughing. “Nope. I’m ordinary.”
“Then how come you’re so handsome?” The little girl’s face was utterly sincere. “Will you become a star someday? If you do, can I have your autograph?”
The other children immediately chimed in: “Me too, me too! Uncle Little Qiao, sign mine too!”
“What is all this.” Second Aunt Yang shook her head. “Yueyue, what do you need an autograph for?”
Dong Xinyue said, “Dunno. In videos on the phone, lots of big sisters and brothers ask stars for autographs.”
Whether it was useful or not came second—jumping on the bandwagon came first.
“Enough, enough, out of the way.” Second Aunt Yang, overwhelmed, shooed the children aside. “Your Uncle Little Qiao and I have business.”
“Granny, where are you going?” Little Tangyuan asked.
Chenchen said, “I’m coming too.”
“Yeah, all of us together.”
Second Aunt Yang: “We’re off to see your Village Chief Great-Grandpa.”
The children fell silent at once, no longer clamoring to come, and scattered like the wind.
Qiao Ning was curious. “Why are they so scared of the Old Village Chief?”
Second Aunt Yang said, “Well, he did retire, but sitting idle isn’t in him—he sticks his nose into everything in the village. These kids may look tame now, but they’re little devils—climbing trees, going to the river, especially in summer. The Old Village Chief patrols the riverbank to catch them, hauls them home, and watches with his own eyes while their parents whack them.”
Qiao Ning: “…”
In his childhood memories, the Old Village Chief had been a rather stern old man—beyond that, nothing much. When village kids bullied him and his brother, the Old Village Chief would even chase them off. Qiao Ning had always thought well of him.
“You and your brother were never little troublemakers.” Second Aunt Yang, guessing his thoughts, went on. “Good children never fear the Old Village Chief.”
Qiao Ning smiled without answering. As a child he’d been timid and clingy—especially glued to his brother, following him everywhere.
Ji Baiqing had been a sickly child, frail from infancy, falling ill at the drop of a hat.
A scared little thing who couldn’t speak properly, and a sickly little boy—the two of them couldn’t have raised mischief if they tried.
By the time they finished talking, they’d reached the Old Village Chief’s home. His house had been rebuilt too—one of the statelier three-story homes in the village.
Qiao Ning started toward the building and was yanked back by Second Aunt Yang. “Where are you going?”
“Isn’t that the Old Village Chief’s house?” Qiao Ning blinked. “I remember this big tree…”
“Over there.” Second Aunt Yang pointed. “That building was put up by his son later. See—his old house is still there.”
Qiao Ning walked around and, sure enough, on the other side of the new building stood an old-style house just like his own family’s.
He glanced at Second Aunt Yang. Before he could ask, she knew, and explained readily: “His son’s quite filial—set aside a room for him on the ground floor. But the old man won’t live in it, insists on the old house. Stubborn as a mule.”
“Yang the Second’s wife!” A voice behind them made Second Aunt Yang jump. She spun around to face the cane-tapping Old Village Chief, smiling sheepishly. “Granduncle! You’re here.”
Caught gossiping behind his back, Second Aunt Yang felt awkward too. She hauled Qiao Ning forward to change the subject: “Look who this is! Old Qiao’s grandson—you know, the one… Naonao! So well-behaved-looking as a child, and look at him now—so handsome!”
Qiao Ning greeted him obediently: “Village Chief Grandpa, I’m Qiao Naonao—Qiao Ning, formally.”
The Old Village Chief looked Qiao Ning over, silent a moment. “I’m not the village chief anymore.”
Second Aunt Yang hurried to say, “Oh, come now—the village children have called you that forever. Why mind a little thing like that?”
The Old Village Chief ignored her and spoke to Qiao Ning. “Here for the keys? Follow me.”
He turned and walked toward his old house.
Second Aunt Yang poked Qiao Ning, who quickly fell into step.
Inside, he and Second Aunt Yang waited first in the central hall. In the local countryside, the central hall was the room facing the front door—used for receiving guests and for meals. Qiao Ning’s family home was the same.
Doors off the sides of the hall led to the bedrooms, kitchen, and so on; layouts varied—some halls connected to the kitchen, others had the kitchen outside.
Big families used to build rooms along the east and west sides of the courtyard too, but the Qiao and Ji families were small, so few rooms were built—the courtyards, in contrast, were huge.
After a few minutes’ wait, the Old Village Chief emerged carrying a plastic bag.
He set it on the table and opened it: some old-fashioned biscuits, and sweets of various kinds.
“Eat,” he beckoned Qiao Ning. “I remember—you loved candy as a child. The moment your brother gave you candy, you stopped crying.”
Qiao Ning froze, nose stinging, eyes going hot.
He unwrapped a candy and popped it into his mouth. Sweet. Very sweet.
“Thank you, Village Chief Grandpa.” Holding back the sting in his eyes, Qiao Ning thanked him, the candy in his mouth blurring his words.
The Old Village Chief then drew a cloth bundle from his pocket and laid it on the table, unfolding it layer by layer to reveal several keys of varying sizes.
He took out the two largest and set them before Qiao Ning. “These two are the front-gate keys for your house and the Ji house. Yours is the one your grandfather gave me back then. The Ji Family key—your brother left it with me when he came back a while ago.”
Before his death, Grandpa Qiao had entrusted the household’s spare key to the Old Village Chief. But Grandpa Ji had left with Ji Baiqing to seek treatment elsewhere—and never returned. The departure had been too sudden; nothing had been arranged.
“These are the rest of your house’s keys—all for the new locks your brother installed recently.” The Old Village Chief handed over the remaining keys. “Go back and try them. See which opens which.”
Qiao Ning looked down at the two brass keys, touched with age. Candy in his mouth, his voice came out soft and slurred: “The Ji Family key… is it really appropriate for me to keep it…”
The Old Village Chief gave him a startled look. “What’s inappropriate about it? If you don’t take it, who will? I’m this old already. Thank goodness you and your brother came back early—any two years later, were you planning to ask me at my grave?”
