Three years passed in the snap of a finger.
The locust tree in the courtyard had grown thicker, Niuwa had shot up to Chen Du's shoulder, and Grandma's graying hair had turned completely white.
The days remained much the same,
spring plowing, summer weeding, autumn harvest, winter storage, the sun rising and the moon setting, the cycle repeating itself.
The calluses on Chen Du's hands grew thicker and thicker. The skin on his shoulders was rubbed raw, scabbed over, and rubbed raw again, repeating the cycle who knew how many times.
His skin was two shades darker than when he had first transmigrated three years ago. He was still lean, but every muscle on his body was like finely wrought iron that had been hammered again and again.
His muscles were well defined but unassuming, invisible beneath a coarse cloth jacket.
Over those three years, he had not deliberately cultivated any martial art or cultivation technique from the Xuanye Realm, yet he was always growing stronger without realizing it.
No one could tell, not even Grandma and Niuwa, who ate and lived with him.
All they knew was that Gouwa worked with increasing skill, grew stronger and sturdier, and became steadier in temperament, unlike the other half-grown boys in the village, who were so rash.
Niuwa had changed a great deal over those three years. He attended Mr. Wang's private school at the east end of the village, had memorized the Thousand Character Classic and the Analects, and was learning to compose matching couplets.
Every day after school, he carried a little stool into the courtyard and sat there, swaying his head as he recited his lessons. When he was particularly pleased with himself, he would even drag Chen Du over to test him.
Chen Du would match his lines while sharpening the sickle, and a few offhand pointers he gave had even prompted Mr. Wang to come to their house with questions.
Had Gouwa studied before? Grandma said with a smile that his father had attended private school for two years, so he had probably passed it down.
Mr. Wang was only half convinced, but he did not ask any more questions.
Grandma had grown old. Her legs were not as nimble as they had been three years ago, and on cloudy days her knees hurt so badly she could not get out of bed,
but she could not sit idle and always had to find something to do.
Stitching shoe soles, mending clothes, pickling vegetables—her hands were never idle.
Sometimes, toward evening, she would carry a little stool to the entrance of the courtyard and sit gazing absentmindedly at the dirt road leading to the outside world at the end of the village lane, staying there for nearly half an hour.
Chen Du knew whom she was waiting for: the man who had been conscripted years ago, his father.
But he never said so. He would simply walk over, drape a coat over her shoulders, and say, "Grandma, the wind's picking up."
Grandma would come to herself and pat the back of his hand. "Come on, let's go inside. I'll warm up your food."
Over those three years, deep in Chen Du's consciousness, his dormant experience points had quietly accumulated.
Every action he took watered and fertilized the seed called [Stunning Everyone with a Single Cry].
That evening, he returned from the fields and had just put down his hoe.
As usual, a rapid series of notification chimes suddenly sounded deep in his consciousness:
[Stunning Everyone with a Single Cry · Dormancy experience points +1] [Stunning Everyone with a Single Cry · Dormancy experience points +1] [Stunning Everyone with a Single Cry · Dormancy experience points +1] [Stunning Everyone with a Single Cry · Dormancy experience points +1] [Stunning Everyone with a Single Cry · Dormancy experience points +1] [Current progress: Lie Dormant Lv5 (116/124) → Lie Dormant Lv6 (123/124)] [Lie Dormant has advanced to Lv6. Ability effects have greatly increased. The Lie Dormant multiplier has risen from 5 times to 6 times. Current Lie Dormant period: three years... If Lie Dormant is ended now, all emotion-type talent effects will be amplified sixfold.]
Chen Du stood beneath the locust tree in the courtyard, watching the numbers change on the panel, his face as still as water.
Three years of dormancy, a sixfold amplification.
That meant all the calm, all the forbearance, all the strength he had accumulated bit by bit in the soil over those six years.
Once unleashed, it would be converted into an explosive surge of comprehension at several times the normal rate, all within an extremely short time.
But he merely glanced at the panel before closing it, turning around, and walking into the kitchen.
"Grandma, whose turn is it to tend the fire today?"
But that night, Niuwa did not carry a little stool into the courtyard to recite his lessons as he usually did.
He sat on the threshold, clutching a stalk of foxtail grass, his head lowered. For a long time, he said nothing.
Chen Du came out of the kitchen carrying two bowls of hot water and handed one to him.
Niuwa took the bowl but did not drink. He merely held it in his palms, his fingers rubbing the rim absentmindedly.
After a long while, he suddenly spoke, his voice muffled. "Brother, Auntie Wang at the east end of the village was holding her Xiaohu and kissing him over and over again today. Xiaohu is only three. His mother holds him every day, makes him new clothes, feeds him, and coaxes him to sleep."
Niuwa pulled the foxtail grass into pieces, his voice growing quieter. "Brother, what did our mother look like?"
Chen Du's hand paused slightly as he held his bowl. He knew Niuwa would ask that question sooner or later.
Niuwa had only been a few years old when their mother died, too young to remember.
The family had rarely mentioned her over the years. Grandma feared it would make them sad, while he feared he would not know how to speak of her properly.
But Niuwa was twelve now. He had shot up to 1.6 meters, and fine down had appeared on his upper lip.
Things had begun to weigh on his mind. He had begun tossing and turning at night, unable to sleep, and sitting on the threshold lost in thought.
"Our mother," Chen Du said after a moment's thought, "loved to smile. Her eyes curved when she smiled, just like yours. You look like her."
Niuwa lifted his head, his eyes lighting up for a moment before dimming again.
He lowered his head and picked at a small chip in the rim of the bowl. A long time passed before he spoke again. "What about our father? Is he never coming back?"
Chen Du did not answer. There was no way to answer that question.
Their father had been conscripted years ago, and they had heard nothing from him since.
In a country like the Zhao Kingdom, where wars broke out frequently, seven or eight out of every ten able-bodied men who were conscripted never returned. Whether the rest lived or died was entirely a matter of luck.
After years without a single letter home, either he was dead or stranded somewhere far away, unable to return.
But he could not say that to Niuwa.
He was silent for a long while. "Maybe he'll come back, maybe he won't. But as long as the light in our home is on, he'll be able to find his way back."
Niuwa asked no more. He put the bowl on the ground and edged closer to Chen Du, leaning his shoulder against his brother's.
Chen Du reached out and rubbed his head. Niuwa's hair was coarse and thick, like a tuft of wild grass that refused to yield.
"Brother," Niuwa's muffled voice came from beneath his shoulder, "why do people in this world have to fight wars like this? Can't everyone just sit down and talk things over? Ergou's father from the next village was conscripted too, and he never came back.
"Xiaopang's older brother in our class died on the front lines last year. He was only sixteen. If there were peace under heaven, our father would still be here, and our mother wouldn't have died. Everyone would have food to eat and clothes to wear. Wouldn't that be good?"
Chen Du said nothing. The truth was simple, simple enough that even a child could say it.
But humanity had fought wars for tens of thousands of years, from the age of tribes to the age of empires, from cold weapons to firearms. It had never been because the truth had not been made clear.
He patted Niuwa's shoulder. His voice was level, yet it was as though it had been tempered in fire. "Because of the human heart."
The words fell, without explanation.
Niuwa tilted his head and thought for a while, half understanding, but he did not press further.
The brothers sat together on the threshold like that, watching the sky full of stars.
After spring began, Grandma suddenly started talking about one thing: finding Gouwa a wife.
Some of the young men in the village who were Gouwa's age were already holding babies of their own. Even those who were furthest behind were engaged.
Only Gouwa spent every day working in the fields, never giving the girls so much as a second glance.
Grandma kept saying, "There's no rush, no rush," but her legs were busier than anyone's. She had gone to the next village to inquire about several families and had even asked a matchmaker to write proposals.
Two families with daughters were willing, but whenever they asked about the family's circumstances, Grandma's smile froze.
Three earthen houses, a few mu of poor farmland, and a grandmother and younger brother to support.
Never mind a betrothal gift—they could not even produce a decent set of new clothes.
Grandma said nothing about it in front of Chen Du, but he knew she was trying to find a way.
One night, the old woman rummaged through her room for most of the night, searching chests and cupboards, until she finally found a small cloth bundle.
The bundle was sewn from coarse blue cloth, its stitches crooked. One look was enough to tell it was Grandma's own handiwork.
She opened it to reveal a jade bracelet.
The jade was not of the finest quality, but it had a warm, lustrous color and gave off a soft glow beneath the dim oil lamp.
It was the betrothal gift Grandpa had given her when he married her, and the only thing the Chen family owned that could be called an "heirloom."
Chen Du returned from the fields to see Grandma carefully wrapping up the bracelet and tucking it into her clothes.
He put down his hoe. "The mountain road is hard to walk. I'll carry your food and water for you, Grandma."
Grandma did not even lift her eyes. "It's not far. I'll be back after a trip to the county town. You cook for Niuwa... You can't leave these next few days. If a matchmaker comes calling, you must be here."
"Let me find someone to go with you. Uncle Li next door is going into town tomorrow too."
Grandma said, "Old Li went yesterday. I know the way on my own."
"Wait a couple of days, until I finish this bit of work in the fields."
Grandma said, "It can't wait. The market's open these next few days, so I'll sell it for money first. If we wait any longer, all the good families will be snapped up by others."
He opened his mouth, still wanting to say something.
Grandma suddenly put down the cloth bundle in her hands, turned around, and looked up at him.
Grandma was only as tall as his chest. Her graying hair shone silver in the afternoon sun, but the stubbornness in those cloudy eyes made him swallow the words on the tip of his tongue.
"Gouwa," Grandma said, "your grandfather passed away early, and we don't even know whether your father can come back.
"I've been in charge of this family for twenty years. I've never begged anyone for anything, and I've never owed anyone a thing. Just this once, don't argue with me."
Chen Du looked into those eyes. There was too much in them for him to read in a moment.
There was guilt,
there was stubbornness,
but more than anything, there was resolve.
He watched Grandma tuck the cloth bundle close against her body, pick up the bamboo walking stick worn smooth in the corner, and take small steps out through the courtyard gate.
Her retreating figure was stooped and slight, and her right leg dragged a little as she walked, an old injury from a fall she had taken while carrying him to flee disaster years ago.
Niuwa ran out of the house and clung to the doorframe, shouting, "Grandma, where are you going?"
"Into town." Grandma did not look back. "I'll be back tonight. There's food keeping warm in the pot. If you're hungry, eat first. Don't wait."
Her figure grew smaller and more distant until she vanished into the dust rising from the yellow dirt road at the end of the village lane.
Chen Du pulled Niuwa up from the threshold and told him to go inside and do his schoolwork. Then he took two cornmeal buns from the stove and pressed them into his hands, saying that in that case, he should go help Grandma feed the chickens.
Niuwa ran off, gnawing on the buns. Chen Du stood at the courtyard gate, gazing in the direction Grandma had gone, unmoving for a long time.
He had not told Niuwa that he had no intention of taking a wife, or that he was not a person of this world.
Earlier on, part of the reason Chen Du had been able to live a peaceful life might have been his desire to put his skill's effects to use.
But now, it was more because he wanted to spend more time with Grandma and Niuwa, and prolong this hard-won peace a little longer.
But he could not stop Grandma. An old woman in her sixties was walking more than ten li along mountain roads with a cane to sell the family heirloom, just to obtain a betrothal gift for her grandson.
That devotion was too heavy for him to lightly say he did not want it.
Chen Du turned and went straight into the woodshed. The porridge in the pot bubbled, and he sat down in front of the stove to feed wood into it.
Firelight flickered across his face, alternating between light and shadow.
If it were Gouwa, he probably would not go after Grandma.
Unfortunately, he was not Gouwa.
Once Niuwa was settled, he was certain to go after her.
Yet at that very moment, some thirty to forty li northwest of the village, an army was on the march.
Its vast marching column stretched as far as the eye could see.
Cavalry, infantry, supply wagons, and countless banners fluttered amid the dust.
He did not recognize the totems on the banners, but the killing intent permeating the ranks was like a dark, looming tide slowly sweeping over the horizon.
This was the Yan Kingdom's vanguard!
When Li Erniu returned from a trading trip last year, he had said that the Yan Kingdom and the Zhao Kingdom were fighting at the border again.
At the time, the villagers had paid it no mind. The Zhao Kingdom and the Yan Kingdom had fought for decades, and border clashes had long been as commonplace as daily meals. In any case, the fighting would never reach Qinghe Village.
But now, the Yan Kingdom's great army had actually advanced to a place only thirty li from Qinghe Village.
That meant the Zhao Kingdom's Northern Border defenses had completely collapsed.
The flames of war at the border had finally reached the doorstep of this remote little village.
Or perhaps the flames of war in the Heavenly Human Realm would ultimately burn their way into every corner of the world, and no one could hide or escape.