Volume One, Chapter One: Life Is But a Dream

New Year's Eve.

Zhao Fusheng, carrying a basket full of charcoal, went door to door along the street, knocking on each entrance.

In a youthful voice, he called out, “Would you like to buy some charcoal?”

In past years at this time, with families gathering for reunion, plenty of charcoal was burned and sales were good.

Some kind-hearted folks, moved by pity or seeking good fortune, would buy extra to keep.

But this year was different.

The war raging outside was fierce, and the price of a pound of rice had surged by nearly a hundred wen.

Now, every household was barely able to keep their pot boiling...

No one was willing to buy the freshly burned charcoal.

His stomach grumbled in protest; he hadn’t eaten much for two days.

More pressing was the matter of his grandfather, who was still in the dilapidated temple.

His grandfather was suffering from a heat illness, his head burning fiercely, tormented for two days, his starving gaze growing more desperate.

“Please buy some charcoal!”

“One wen per pound.”

Every household showed warm light inside, but no one opened their door or even responded.

He came to a main hall; through a crack in the door came the faint warmth of air inside.

Laughter and the scent of steaming food floated out.

This drew Zhao Fusheng to linger outside the door.

He knocked as usual, but this time his call was different.

“Uncle Wu, Auntie.”

“Do you need firewood?”

Creak!

The door opened, and Uncle Wu glanced around.

“Old master didn’t come with you?”

“No.”

“He’s sick, burning with fever.”

Zhao Fusheng fixed his gaze on his second uncle’s face for a moment.

He thought this news might stir some reaction from Uncle Wu; even if not to take his grandfather home, at least to provide some blankets or leftover food seemed only right.

Especially since the hall he now lived in was originally his grandfather’s property.

But everywhere was chaotic now, with death all around.

The emperor’s court could no longer maintain order.

Minor disputes over property would not be handled by officials.

So Grandpa Fusheng never fought back, merely accepted it silently.

He even advised his grandson, “Don’t go to that house anymore.”

“And don’t see those scoundrels again, so you won’t be tainted, keep yourself clean.”

Zhao Fusheng had always obeyed.

Many abandoned elders in the broken temple had sought a bite to eat and never returned.

Now, the northern roving cavalry took advantage of the turmoil in the Central Plains and ran rampant.

They robbed people and grain, several incidents each month.

With food scarce, wicked thoughts fermented, especially since the law no longer protected the elderly.

Thus, many rogue merchants sold "a handful of fire" along the road.

Grandpa feared his little grandson might be led astray!

But today was different.

Grandpa was still in the temple, suffering from fever, calling out for a day.

He thought to buy some medicine to dispel the heat and some food.

But seeing no one buying charcoal, with no other options, he came to Uncle Wu’s house.

Uncle Wu’s face flickered with a tight frown.

Then he waved his hand dismissively. “We have charcoal. Go sell elsewhere.”

He moved to close the door.

Bang!

The door slammed against Zhao Fusheng, who gritted his teeth but held it open!

The law forbade harming women and children, and Zhao Fusheng relied on this to negotiate.

Ignoring the pain, tears welled in his eyes…

“Uncle Wu! Please, I beg you!”

“I want my grandfather to live…”

Uncle Wu sighed.

Just as he was about to speak, Auntie inside interrupted, “One steamed bun, and you can give us all the charcoal in your basket. Otherwise, forget it!”

Zhao Fusheng glanced back.

All this charcoal had been gathered by him and his grandfather over several days.

For this, Grandpa had fallen ill and exhausted himself; he had almost ventured into the back mountain, the territory haunted by wolf spirits.

Almost lost his life…

Moreover, half a pound in the basket was meant to be saved to burn with his grandfather for warmth.

“Close the door!”

Auntie lost patience, sneering.

“All right!”

Zhao Fusheng had no other choice.

The bun was warm, and his grandfather was starving, waiting for him.

It might all come down to tonight!

Uncle Wu fetched the bun and a sack; as Zhao Fusheng emptied the charcoal into the sack, Uncle Wu handed over the bun and slipped half another into Zhao Fusheng’s pocket.

“Tell the old master I’ll visit him tomorrow.”

Zhao Fusheng clenched his fist but still returned half the bun.

“Better not…”

“Grandpa doesn’t want to see you.”

Though young, he had seen enough of the world to read hearts.

Uncle Wu didn’t expect the boy to be so perceptive.

His eyes grew cold; he crushed the bun and scattered it by the roadside.

Bang!

The door shut firmly.

The faint glow on the ground vanished instantly!

Fortunately, the bun in his hand was still warm—it could save his grandfather’s life.

But after taking a few steps away, he couldn’t help but turn back to pick up the scattered crumbs.

With blackened snow water, he swallowed them down…

“Grandpa, I’m home.”

Inside the broken temple, all were frail and sick; several had passed away these past few days.

Zhao Fusheng had helped carry the bodies outside, digging simple graves for them, making modest tombs.

Now, only a few remained.

His grandfather was among them.

Next to the shrine’s offering table, by a pile of firewood, wrapped in several layers of straw, yet still trembling…

“Fusheng’s back?”

“Yeah! A kind person just gave me a warm bun. Grandpa, eat while it’s hot!”

Zhao Fusheng hurriedly offered the bun, still slightly warm.

But the old man’s gaze was strange.

Under the faint firelight of the meager campfire, he only stared intently at Zhao Fusheng.

“Why don’t you eat? No appetite?”

Zhao Fusheng asked, puzzled.

Grandpa’s gaze softened slightly; he lifted a hand, thin as a withered branch, and wiped a smear of dirt from his grandson’s cheek.

“Good child, truly a good child.”

Three other elders nearby sighed with heartfelt praise.

“Old Zhao, your grandson has such a good nature.”

“He’s suffered so much with you, never complained, always trying to make up for the love between grandfather and grandson. Rare, so rare!”

“If you ask me... we’re not worthy, those kids these days are all like demons.”

“Better to leave that blessing to this child.”

The elders of the Liang, Chen, and Song families, seated around the fire, all agreed and proposed this.

“Uncles, what blessing? What do you mean?”

Zhao Fusheng stood up to ask.

Grandpa’s face suddenly changed; he shook his hand repeatedly.

“No, no, everyone!”

“That’s a century’s worth of fortune, how can it be given away lightly by the Zhao family?”

He forced himself to sit upright.

“We receive no filial respect from the children; after death, we depend entirely on this child to protect our remains, so we may rest in peace!”

“For this dignity, Old Zhao, don’t be estranged.”

Until Elder Song narrowed his eyes sternly and spoke solemnly.

The surrounding elders nodded in agreement.

“Yes, Old Zhao, our families won’t contend!”

Grandpa sighed deeply, struggling to clasp his hands in thanks.

“Thank you!”

Then his gaze fixed on Zhao Fusheng; the kind expression vanished, replaced by a sharp, radiant intensity.

“Go quickly and share the bun with all the uncles.”

Zhao Fusheng understood and, though unclear of the meaning, he never defied his grandfather.

He tore the bun into four pieces, giving one to each elder.

The elders accepted without hesitation, chewing and nodding repeatedly.

“Each of you must kowtow three times in gratitude!”

Grandpa said firmly.

Zhao Fusheng obeyed, bowing to each in turn.

Though he didn’t fully grasp why he was being thanked for giving them food, he trusted his grandfather’s reasoning.

Before he finished, Grandpa spoke again in a serious tone.

“Go, offer incense to Lady Ningxia, and kowtow three times.”

Zhao Fusheng complied, taking the last sandalwood incense from the cabinet, lighting it, and placing it in the censer.

He whispered, “Lady Ningxia, I pay my respects.”

Then he went before Lady Ningxia’s statue, knelt on the mat, and bowed three times.

The four emaciated old men in the broken temple silently approved.

Grandpa stroked his white beard, then explained to Zhao Fusheng:

“Child, you asked earlier about the blessing.”

“Now, your grandpa will tell you.”

“Do you remember when I told you about the matter of the ranked recommendations and the private register?”