Taking a Master

"Oh, okay, okay, thank you, thank... wait!!!"

The old man held his phone, his mind momentarily dazed. He looked back at Xu Tong, who was lying on the ground, and seeing the guy staring right at him, he couldn't help but snap, "You're not dead?"

"I feel... I could still be saved!"

After saying this, Xu Tong closed his eyes again, crossed his hands over his chest, and—well... he looked very peaceful.

"Hey, you little bastard, you actually dared to pull a scam on your Old Man Song!!"

The old man finally realized what was happening. His hands, having nowhere to rest, picked up the broken Jade Pipe Bowl from the floor. He waved it up and down in front of Xu Tong's face three times before slamming it hard onto the table, venting the final bit of stubbornness left in the pipe.

Xu Tong lifted one eyelid and said with a grin, "Isn't this just adding some valuable life experience for you, sir?"

"Get lost!" The old man curled his lip, so angry he nearly threw his shoe, and waved his hand to signal for Xu Tong to scram.

Seeing that the old man was genuinely angry—the kind that wasn't easy to coax—he had no choice but to sit up from the floor. "Don't be like that, sir. That move you pulled earlier was incredible. I almost couldn't catch my breath. Look, look, the back of my head is all swollen from the fall."

He pulled down his collar and turned his head to show the old man.

The old man had been full of rage, but seeing the genuine swelling on the back of his head, his heart tightened. He reached out to touch it, and sure enough, there was a large bump from the impact.

Come to think of it, that straight-backed fall he'd just performed looked easy, but the average person couldn't pull it off.

In Peking Opera, there is a move called the Zombie Fall. Beyond learning how to dissipate the force of the impact, the most important part is overcoming psychological fear; you can't tuck your chin toward your neck. Without five or six years of practice, who could possibly do that?

Looking at the bump on Xu Tong's head, the old man's anger vanished into thin air. Could it be, he wondered, that I actually scared him?

Just then, he twitched his nose. A familiar, rich, savory aroma drifted into his nostrils, and he couldn't help but take a deep breath. "That Li Family Braised Meat from Democratic Street?"

"You have a good nose, sir."

Xu Tong turned around, took out the braised meat he had prepared earlier, placed it on the table, and then produced two bottles of liquor.

The old man was stunned, his gaze sweeping up and down over Xu Tong. He couldn't figure out where this kid had hidden the items; not a single scent had leaked out just a moment ago.

In the blink of an eye, Xu Tong had the food and drink laid out, even having prepared the chopsticks for the old man.

Even a fool would understand by now that this kid had come prepared.

The old man looked at the pipe on the table, then, with a pained expression, picked up the shattered Jade Pipe Bowl from the floor and tossed it onto the table. "Speak, and stop beating around the bush."

The smile on Xu Tong's face faded. He took out the paper flower he had made and presented it to the old man. "Take a look, sir. I made this."

The old man raised an eyebrow, took the paper flower, rubbed it between his fingers a few times, and tossed it carelessly onto the table. "Your teacher's wife must have taught you this, right? Take it back and practice for a few more years before you come back."

"That's not quite right. My master is over eighty this year and has been a bachelor his whole life. Where would he get a wife?"

The old man had been reaching for the wine on the table, but upon hearing this, he set the glass back down. He looked at Xu Tong with a forced smile and pointed toward the courtyard. "Look at my yard. It's dilapidated, and every stray cat and dog wants to crawl inside."

"If it's broken, it's because no one is fixing it. If you like, I can help you repair this yard."

Seeing that he was completely impervious to reason, Old Man Song lost his temper. Just as he was about to chase him out with a dark face...

Xu Tong suddenly clutched his head and plopped onto the ground. "Ouch, no, you'd better call an ambulance, sir. My head is hurting terribly right now... ouch..."

His acting was so exaggerated that he might as well have written "I'm going to fake an injury if you don't agree" on his face.

Old Man Song's mouth twitched a few times. He suddenly felt that his life over the last dozen years hadn't been as turbulent as this single day.

"Fine, fine, fine... stop making a scene. Get up, get up first!"

Old Man Song reached out to pull him up, took a drink of wine to calm his nerves, and then picked up the Paper Doll from the table again. "This is a dying craft. Why would a young man like you want to learn this?"

"If I said it was a hobby, would you believe me?"

Xu Tong looked up at Old Man Song with a serious expression.

"I believe you!" Old Man Song nodded. The paper flower was mediocre, but to reach this level of craftsmanship required a great deal of effort.

But then his tone shifted. "But this isn't something you can treat as a hobby. There are taboos to crafting Paper Dolls. I know you young people today like novelty, seek thrills, and pursue retro trends, but there are some things you don't understand. Don't get involved in this, or you'll only end up harming yourself and others."

Old Man Song gave his earnest advice, hoping the kid would listen and stop stepping into this ominous trade.

He took a sip of wine and looked at the room full of Paper Dolls, a glimmer of moisture in his eyes as if recalling a painful experience.

Perhaps because his emotions had been on such a roller coaster today, Old Man Song seemed unstable. After a few more cups of wine, his face was filled with melancholy.

Xu Tong sat to the side without speaking, waiting for Old Man Song to down four or five more cups. Only after his emotions had gradually stabilized did he speak slowly.

"Sir, a hundred years ago, we didn't have cakes, and the West constantly mocked us for not understanding what dessert was. A hundred years later, a young man named Zhou Yi took the dough-sculpting techniques passed down by our ancestors and resolutely broke into the world of cakes. At the world's largest cake competition held in London, he became the recognized number one, giving those Westerners a resounding slap in the face."

Xu Tong's gaze was calm, yet filled with radiance. "A craft should not be negated by its history. Promoting, inheriting, and innovating—finding a new path is the future."

As he spoke, he took out a sheet of gold leaf and placed it in front of Old Man Song. "Look, if we replaced paper with gold, wouldn't what we make be a work of art?"

Old Man Song was startled. He took the gold leaf in his hand and couldn't help but fall into a long, deep contemplation.

Tick, tock...

The pendulum of the clock chimed in the dim room.

Outside the courtyard, it was pitch black, with the occasional cry of birds and the low wailing of wild cats.

Who knows how much time had passed, but then came a "Dong!"—the hour hand had reached the nine o'clock position.

"You should go back!"

Old Man Song put down the gold leaf. "It's getting late. Go home early."

Hearing this, Xu Tong's expression dimmed, but he said nothing more, standing up to head for the door.

Only when he reached the threshold did Old Man Song, eyes narrowed, say faintly, "Come earlier tomorrow. Weed the yard. There's another room next door; you can move in there for now."

"Huh?!"

This time, Xu Tong was genuinely surprised. He turned back to look at Old Man Song, and seeing him smiling with narrowed eyes, a grin finally broke across his own face. "You got it!"

He trotted away, not forgetting to close the door for Old Man Song as he left.

Watching Xu Tong's retreating figure, Old Man Song picked up his chopsticks, took a piece of braised meat, and began to chew it slowly.

In the dim old house, the clock ticked rhythmically.

Everything in the room, save for Old Man Song drinking his wine, seemed frozen in place.

It wasn't until he had finished three rounds of drinks that Old Man Song instinctively picked up his pipe, crossed his legs, and looked at the 'family' filling the room.

"Good, look at that. Our lineage has a successor once again."

As the words faded, a cold gust of wind blew into the room, and nothing could be heard but bursts of laughter echoing within...