Digging Graves

As dusk drew near, footsteps sounded outside the courtyard.

Fang Han was tidying the fishing nets in the yard when he looked up and saw his grandfather push the door open. The old man clutched a dusty cloth bundle in his hand, his weathered face giving nothing away.

When Fang Yuanshan saw Fang Han, he walked straight over and stuffed the bundle into his hands. "I borrowed five taels from the main household."

Five taels...

Fang Han said nothing as he accepted the bundle, silently doing the calculations in his head.

Adding Grandmother's eight taels of coffin money, the little savings the family already had, and the five taels Grandfather had brought back...

He now had fifteen taels in total, still exactly fifteen taels short of the thirty-tael tuition fee.

At dinnertime, the family of six sat around a wooden table with a chipped corner.

On the table were two dishes of pickled vegetables, a bowl of coarse-grain porridge, and fish soup stewed from the few small fish Fang Han had caught during the day.

On any normal day, this would have counted as an excellent supper, yet tonight, no one touched their chopsticks.

"The Dragon King Gang people came during the day," Grandmother Madam Liu spoke first, her voice trembling.

She then recounted Zhou Dabao's visit to Fang Yuanshan in detail.

After hearing it, the old man's brows twisted into a knot.

He said nothing, merely took out his pipe, packed it with tobacco, and puffed away.

His weather-beaten old face looked even more grave amid the swirling smoke.

The room was deathly silent.

His young sister huddled in her mother Chen Cui's arms, her eyes swollen red from crying.

She was only seven and did not yet fully understand what the "River God Festival" meant.

But Zhou Dabao's cold and vicious gaze during the day had truly frightened her out of her wits.

Fang Ding sat off to the side with his head lowered, not saying a word.

Fang Han caught sight of his hand clenched into a fist, veins bulging on its back as though he were desperately suppressing something.

Smack.

Fang Yuanshan struck his pipe against the table, shattering the dead silence.

"Stop pulling such long faces."

He lifted his eyelids, his gaze sweeping over the family before finally settling on Fang Han.

"No matter what, Xiao Han must enter the martial arts hall!"

"Our family can scrape together fifteen taels right now. I'll find a way to get the remaining fifteen.

"And we must also figure out those five taels of Attendant money for the Dragon King Gang. Our family cannot hand Xiao Rui over."

Though the old man spoke calmly, his tone carried an unshakable resolve.

His grandfather's words left Fang Han silent.

Compared to his past life, the gap between the two worlds was simply too vast.

Though he had been an ordinary person in his past life, he could at least make a living through his own skills. How much he earned depended entirely on his own ability.

But what about this world?

Martial arts could reach the heavens, and that sounded like it held limitless possibilities, yet life for commoners at the bottom was ten or a hundred times harder than in his past life.

Every way of making money was either monopolized by powerful families or gangs, or else easily drew the attention of others and brought calamity from nowhere.

Just like that Spirit Fish.

A common man was innocent, but possessing a jade ring made him guilty.

For the first time, Fang Han truly felt that without money, one could not take even a single step in this world.

The fifteen-tael shortfall and the five-tael death warrant weighed on his heart like two mountains.

The family's dinner was suffocatingly dreary.

After dinner, Fang Yuanshan called Fang Han and Fang Ding outside and told the brothers to bring hoes and follow him out.

"Grandfather, where are we going so late at night?" Fang Han asked, puzzled.

"The back mountain. To pay respects to our ancestors."

Pay respects to their ancestors?

Hearing that, Fang Han began to wonder.

It was neither New Year nor any festival. Why pay respects to their ancestors in the middle of the night?

Still, when Grandfather had returned from the Inner City today, he had indeed brought back a stack of yellow paper and joss paper.

Fang Han did not ask further. He and his elder brother each shouldered a hoe and followed their grandfather out beneath the moonlight.

By the light of the moon, the grandfather and two grandsons headed toward the back mountain. No one spoke along the way; only their footsteps and the chirping of insects filled the night.

The Fang Household ancestral graves lay halfway up the northern slope of the back mountain. Seven or eight grave mounds stood there, burying several generations of the Fang family.

Fang Yuanshan stepped before the graves, lit the yellow paper and joss paper, then solemnly kowtowed three times.

Fang Han and Fang Ding followed suit behind him.

After finishing the rites, Fang Yuanshan rose and walked forward. He stopped before an inconspicuous grave mound, then turned to the brothers. "Dig here."

Fang Ding thought he had misheard. "Grandfather, what did you say?"

"Dig up the grave." Fang Yuanshan pointed his pipe at a slightly raised mound of earth before him. "Right here. Dig."

Fang Han was dumbfounded too.

Seriously?

What decent person dug up their ancestral graves in the middle of the night?

Seeing their hesitation, Fang Yuanshan waved a hand. "It's fine. There's no one buried inside. Go ahead and dig."

An empty grave?

The brothers exchanged a glance. Though both were full of doubts, they still raised their hoes and began digging.

Fang Yuanshan squatted beside them, smoking his pipe. Every now and then, he would lower his voice to remind them, "Gently," or, "Keep the noise down."

After they had dug about two feet down, a hoe suddenly struck something hard.

Fang Han hurriedly crouched and used his hands to brush away the loose dirt, revealing a rusty iron box about the size of two palms.

Fang Han picked up the iron box. Fang Yuanshan leaned in for a look, nodded, and gestured for him to open it.

Fang Han was curious. What treasure could his grandfather have buried in an iron box here?

When he opened the box, a medicinal fragrance rushed into his nostrils.

Fang Han looked carefully and saw a ginseng root lying quietly inside. Its roots were intact, its body plump and full, and beneath the moonlight, it faintly gleamed with a jade-colored luster.

Fang Han was stunned.

Whether in appearance or in the richness of its medicinal fragrance, this ginseng was no ordinary item.

"A fifty-year Jade-whisker Ginseng," Fang Yuanshan said gravely.

"Grandfather, this..."

Fang Han had just wanted to ask where this Jade-whisker Ginseng came from when Fang Yuanshan cut him off.

"Don't ask so much. Put this ginseng away. Tomorrow during the day, take it to the Outer City Black Market and sell it."

The old man paused, then estimated, "A fifty-year Jade-whisker Ginseng should fetch at least fifty taels. If you're lucky, perhaps even more."

Fang Han and Fang Ding were both deeply shocked. A single ginseng root could sell for fifty taels of silver.

Shocked as he was, Fang Han remained curious about where Grandfather had gotten this Jade-whisker Ginseng and why he had buried it in such a hidden place.

Could it be that the origins of this Jade-whisker Ginseng were not so simple?

Fang Yuanshan seemed to see what he was thinking. His expression darkened as he said quietly, "The less you know about some things, the more peaceful your life will be."

"Xiao Han, you only need to remember this: now that this ginseng has been dug up, sell it for money. Spend what should be spent, hide what should be hidden. As for anything else, swallow it all into your belly. Don't let even half a word slip out."

He stared at Fang Han, his eyes blazing like torches, and added, "When you go to the Black Market tomorrow, disguise yourself. Don't let anyone recognize you.

"Once you've sold it, leave immediately. Don't linger, and don't talk too much with anyone. Remember: wealth must not be flaunted. Be careful and cautious!"

"I understand, Grandfather." Fang Han nodded solemnly.

With that, he closed the iron box and wrapped it in the old cloth bundle Grandfather had prepared beforehand.

Fang Ding began filling in the pit. Fang Han helped as well, and once the pit was filled, they stamped the earth down firm with their feet and scattered a layer of dead leaves over it, doing their best to erase all signs of digging.

Once everything had been properly dealt with, the grandfather and two grandsons headed down the mountain along the way they had come.

The night wind blew past, and the forest rustled softly.

Fang Han held the iron box tightly against his chest. He planned to head to the Outer City Black Market first thing tomorrow morning, sell off this Jade-whisker Ginseng, and exchange it for silver.

Once the silver was in hand, the tuition fee for entering the martial arts hall would be settled.

As for everything else, he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

No matter what, he had to learn martial arts as soon as possible.