Zhou Guangfu looked at the stack of money pushed back toward him. He did not take it, only rested his hand on the table and shook his head.
"Dazhu, hear me out."
His voice was quiet, but insistent.
"You have to take this money. I've never owed anyone anything in my life, except you. If you don't take it, I won't be able to rest easy."
Liu Dazhu frowned and opened his mouth to speak, but Zhou Guangfu raised a hand to stop him.
"I'm not just being polite. I mean it. I've lived all these years, picking scrap my whole life. I may be poor, but I've never begged anyone for anything or owed anyone anything. Except here, at your place. I ate for free for years, and when you left, you even left a note saying I didn't have to pay you back. Do you know how I felt when I read that note?"
A dry rasp escaped his throat.
"What I owe you is more than the price of those noodles."
Liu Dazhu's lips moved, and his voice was a little choked.
"Old Zhou, why bring all that up? That was all—"
"Let me finish."
Zhou Guangfu looked at him, a calm light in his eyes.
"I didn't come just to repay the money. I didn't want to leave again with a debt of kindness still hanging over me."
The courtyard fell silent for a moment.
Liu Dazhu stared at him, stunned, his expression changing.
"Old Zhou, you... what's wrong?"
Zhou Guangfu lowered his head and rubbed his hands together.
"It's just that my time's up."
His tone was level, as though he were remarking on the fine weather.
Liu Dazhu sprang to his feet, knocking the little stool backward with a clatter.
"What are you saying?