At this moment, a pair of aged but strong hands tightly connected two young men.

The expressions on the “father and son” duo were each spectacular in their own way.

Che Ziming struggled free from the old lady’s grasp, on the verge of tears. “Grandma, snap out of it! We’re buddies!”

The old lady raised her hand and smacked him. “Where are your manners! How did your dad raise such a thing like you?”

“I…” Che Ziming’s eyes reddened with anger. “Look at me! Where do we look alike?! He’d have to be a ghost to be your son!”

Upon hearing this, the old lady grabbed the broom handle leaning by the door. “You ungrateful wretch, now you’re trying to drive a wedge between your grandma and your dad! You little brat, I’ll beat you to death today!”

Che Ziming turned and ran into the courtyard with a practiced ease that was heartbreaking.

“I fucking give up!! Fine, fine, you’re family! He’s your son, and I have nothing to do with either of you, okay?!”

The old lady chased after him while swinging, her hand trembling with anger as she gripped the broom. “I knew it! I knew you were a con artist coming to our house! Today I’ll enforce justice on behalf of the police!”

“Ahhh—!!” Che Ziming threw his head back as he ran wildly. “Dad, save me! Dad, get out of the hospital quick!”

Xie Lan’s heart received an enormous shock.

“Should we really not intervene…” he asked weakly.

“No need.” Dou Sheng came in, found a stool to sit on, and grabbed a handful of sunflower seeds. While cracking them, he said, “No need to stop them. After you come a few more times, you’ll get used to it. Sit down and watch the show.”

Xie Lan looked hesitant. “Really, no need to stop them?”

“Yeah. Grandma may be confused, but she’s in great health. Her secret is beating her grandson every day.”

“…”

The old and young circled around the courtyard. The old lady passed by a water bucket, threw down the broom, grabbed a mop handle, and continued chasing.

Xie Lan looked around and quietly took down the sharp axe hanging on the tool rack, hiding it behind Dou Sheng.

Dou Sheng’s hand trembled, scattering sunflower seeds everywhere. He laughed while picking them up.

“Oh my, starting the beatdown so early today?”

Xie Lan turned around to see Dai You and Yu Fei had arrived, carrying a bag of groceries.

Yu Fei, with his usual droopy demeanor, raised his chin at Che Ziming as he ran past in greeting, then grabbed a handful of seeds from Dou Sheng. “What’s up with you, dressed like that?”

“Video concept, it’s nothing.” Dou Sheng distributed the remaining seeds between them. “Everyone’s here, let’s get cooking.”

Dai You glanced at the bowl of dumpling filling. “Six people, we have dumplings, so four dishes?”

Dou Sheng hummed in agreement. “Let’s divide up the work.”

The cat-and-mouse game between Che Ziming and the old lady paused as they each leaned against the courtyard wall, panting heavily.

“Three stir-fries and one stew.” Dou Sheng said. “I’ll do tomato scrambled eggs, braised eggplant with pork, and minced meat with greens. Dai You, make potato and ribs. Yu Fei… continue lounging in the courtyard. Che Ziming, watch Grandma.”

Everyone nodded, having no objections to this division of labor.

“What about me?” Xie Lan quickly scanned the remaining ingredients. “I can fry fish and make a beef pie.”

As soon as he finished speaking, the courtyard fell eerily silent.

The old lady, who had just been panting, stopped panting. She asked hesitantly, “What’s a beef pie?”

“You should help me instead.” Dou Sheng quickly interjected. “I have a lot to prep, can’t manage alone.”

“Oh, that works too.” Xie Lan nodded in agreement, looking somewhat regretfully at the beef in the bag.

Though the house was old and shabby, it was kept clean, with miscellaneous items neatly organized and sorted.

The kitchen was at the very back, with only one stove supporting a pitch-black, gleaming wok.

Dai You skillfully rummaged through the cabinet for a pressure cooker. “I’ll cook outside, you guys use the kitchen.”

“Okay.” Dou Sheng turned on the faucet and rolled up his shirt sleeves several times. “Xie Lan, come wash your hands here.”

The faucet was quite rusty, with thin water pipes exposed outside that shook the entire fixture when turned. But despite the flimsy pipe, the water flow was strong, gushing out.

Xie Lan also rolled up his sleeves. “Do you guys come here to cook often?”

“A few times a year. Che Ziming’s dad runs a small restaurant. During holidays when the meat vendors go home, he has to drive over a hundred kilometers himself to get meat. He can’t make it back at night, so we keep Che Ziming company and look after Grandma.”

As Dou Sheng spoke, he wiped the wok with a paper towel and brought the vegetables and meat to the counter. “Can you wash these?”

“Yes.” Xie Lan picked up the basin nearby. “Wash all of these?”

Dou Sheng hummed in agreement. “You wash the vegetables, I’ll wash the meat.”

The vegetable quantity was substantial—eggplant, greens, tomatoes—but washing them went quickly, unlike washing meat, which left hands greasy.

Dou Sheng let Xie Lan use the water basin first, while he casually found a peeler and started peeling potatoes.

That slender, pale wrist stayed in Xie Lan’s peripheral vision. Occasionally, when turning the potato, the wrist bone would move slightly along with it.

“You’re about to rub that tomato bald.” Dou Sheng suddenly said.

Xie Lan snapped back to attention and realized the tomato had already broken its skin in his hands, with red juice rapidly washing away under the running water.

He quickly turned off the water and set the injured, “bleeding” tomato aside.

Dou Sheng took it directly to the cutting board and started cutting. “Cooking alone is easy to zone out with. Let’s put on some music.”

“Okay.” Xie Lan pulled out his phone. “What do you want to listen to?”

“Whatever.” Dou Sheng smiled. “Or play some violin? Pick something you like.”

Xie Lan randomly tapped a violin playlist and set the phone aside.

The sound of washing vegetables was loud, and the violin music was faint and intermittent through the water sounds, somewhat playful.

“By the way, have you thought about what to name the cat?” Dou Sheng asked casually.

Xie Lan thought for a moment. “Just call it Mimi?”

“Mimi already has a cat named that.” Dou Sheng clicked his tongue. “How about Wutong?”

Xie Lan paused. “You seem to really like wutong trees.”

“Yeah.” Dou Sheng took over the washed greens. “Wutong trees have a lonely quality, but when they bloom, it’s very romantic. Oh right, do you know what romantic means? It’s Roman…”

“I know.” Xie Lan rinsed the peeled potato under the faucet, looking down. “My mom said wutong trees don’t grow well in the north. Whenever there are cold snaps in spring, they won’t bloom that year, standing all alone. So every time they bloom, it’s a surprise.”

Dou Sheng paused his knife on the cutting board, looked up, and smiled. “So, if they bloom this year, record a little video?”

Xie Lan was slightly stunned. “Are you asking if I think that’s a good idea?”

Dou Sheng smiled. “I’m asking if you want to do it together.”

“Oh.” Xie Lan turned off the faucet. “Sure.”

Once the vegetables were prepped, Dou Sheng heated the wok with oil. He didn’t even wear an apron, relying on his long arms to stay farther from the pot, using a spatula to stir-fry the vegetables vigorously.

Chinese cooking produces heavy oil smoke and quite a spectacle. The kitchen was like setting off firecrackers, completely drowning out the violin music.

Dou Sheng seemed to be in a good mood, the corners of his mouth holding a relaxed smile as he cooked, quietly distancing himself from the “wayward youth” persona created by his outfit.

Xie Lan watched him for a while before remembering the pork ribs. He picked up the plate. “I’ll take this to Dai You.”

“The potatoes too.” Dou Sheng muttered. “He hasn’t come for the ingredients in ages.”

Dai You wasn’t cooking at all.

The pressure cooker sat on the table, not even plugged in. He himself was sitting side-by-side with Che Ziming on small stools against the wall, both looking dejected.

Yu Fei sat in the rocking chair at the head, rocking back and forth wordlessly.

The old lady pointed at Yu Fei and scolded Dai You: “Your dad is already so old! His eyes can barely open, and you still can’t manage your own son? You still need him to worry?!”

“?”

Xie Lan was stunned.

The room fell silent for a moment. Dai You sighed deeply, tugging at his hair as he said to Yu Fei, “Sorry, Dad. From now on, I’ll definitely manage this troublemaker, Che Zimin,g properly. If he daresto tell you to get up from your chair again, I’ll beat him for sure.”

Xie Lan: “?”

The old lady’s eyes widened as she turned to Che Ziming. “And you!”

Che Ziming’s eyes were filled with lifeless despair. He stood up and first bowed to Dai You. “Sorry, Dad, I was wrong.”

A blush of shame broke through his thick face. He took a deep breath and stiffly bowed to Yu Fei again. “Grandpa, I’m sorry. You should sit on the big chair. I’m a lowly junior with cheap bones. From now on I’ll sit on the small stool… no, from now on I’ll just squat on the ground.”

Xie Lan was completely dumbfounded.

Yu Fei sprawled in the rocking chair, receiving their bows. After a long while, he sighed.

“Xi Yan.” He turned to call Che Ziming’s grandmother by her name. “Children and grandchildren have their own fortunes. Stop scolding them and let them hurry up and cook.”

“You’re right, we know we were wrong. Let’s cook quickly!” Dai You immediately stood up, grabbing Che Ziming by the collar and whispering in his ear, “Run! Go mix the dumpling filling.”

Che Ziming stood up dejectedly. “I’m mentally exhausted. Let’s just make rice instead.”

“That works too.” Dai You patted him lightly on the back of the neck. “Go get some fresh air.”

The old lady was tired from yelling. She and Yu Fei each sat in a rocking chair across a table from each other, both drowsy.

For a brief moment, Xie Lan actually felt they looked like an old couple. Their temperaments weren’t just similar—they were identical.

“Hey, is there any garlic left in the kitchen?” Dai You asked quietly.

Xie Lan said, “Wait a moment, I’ll go check.”

Dai You glanced back at the old lady and picked up the pressure cooker. “Douzi’s dishes should be done by now. I’ll go cook in the kitchen.”

Only after leaving that room did Dai You raise his voice, letting out a long breath.

“This time, Grandma’s episode is worse than before. In the past, there were only two generations of father and son. Today’s the first time the grandfather role appeared.”

Xie Lan asked, “Is there a reason?”

“Probably because her real son isn’t here, so she’s panicking inside.” Dai You sighed. “Alzheimer’s is troublesome. Actually, her body is very healthy, but she’s just confused. No treatment works—it’s been like this for many years.”

There was no garlic in the kitchen either. Dou Sheng was a wastrel—with only two cloves left, he was too lazy to find a bag for them and forcibly stir-fried them into the vegetables.

Xie Lan had nothing to say about the stir-fried greens covered with a layer of garlic slices.

Dai You said coolly, “The nearest vegetable shop is at least a kilometer walk.”

“It’s fine.” Dou Sheng rolled down his sleeves. “We’re friendly with all the neighbors. Xie Lan and I will go borrow some.”

To go out, they had to pass through the old lady’s room. Dou Sheng saw the two people sleeping in their chairs with their heads thrown back and stopped, his expression complex.

“What’s the situation?” he asked quietly.

Xie Lan was silent for a moment. “It’s a long story.”

Dou Sheng: “Try to tell it?”

“Che Ziming’s dad is Dai You, and Dai You’s dad is Yu Fei.” Xie Lan said, glancing at Dou Sheng’s twitching mouth corner. “You seem to have been… thrown out of the family.”

“That’s called being expelled from the family tree.” Dou Sheng sighed but couldn’t help laughing. “Fine, she’ll probably get better when his dad comes back from the hospital.”

Xie Lan took a moment to react before nodding.

He was already somewhat dazed. When Dou Sheng said “his dad,” it took him a while to figure out who he was actually referring to.

By now, it was time for every household to cook and eat dinner. The sky had grown dim, and the alley had only a few scattered old lamp posts with bulbs whose light seemed thin in the evening darkness.

Dou Sheng walked ahead. The black skull on his jeans was hard to see in the gloom, but that dirty grayish-white shirt was still conspicuous. The few streaks of light-colored highlights in his hair had lost their crazy vibe and only showed a trace of desolation in the night.

His frame was upright, his shoulder blades slightly protruding beneath the shirt’s thin fabric, rising and falling as he walked. Passing a lamp hanging on a wall, the bulb had just gone out. He reached up and gently adjusted the wire, coaxing that cluster of faint light back.

Xie Lan always felt that when Dou Sheng wasn’t joking around with people, he carried an inescapable loneliness. Today’s outfit intensified that feeling in the darkness.

“Watch your step.” Dou Sheng suddenly turned back. “The floor tiles are all broken.”

Xie Lan hummed. “You be careful too.”

“I’m very familiar with this area.” Dou Sheng smiled. “A few years ago, I came here frequently for a while. I know every floor tile and every neighbor here. Things like borrowing seasoning or getting some garlic are no big deal.”

However, karma struck quickly.

The little girl at the neighbor’s doorway looked wary upon seeing Dou Sheng.

“Who are you?” She looked up at the dirty marks on Dou Sheng’s clothes, then at his hair, and took two steps back.

Dou Sheng was stunned. “It’s your Brother Douzi, here to borrow some garlic.”

The little girl pressed her lips tightly together, staring at him with wide eyes.

Dou Sheng: “Huh? You don’t recognize…”

“Mom!!!!!!”

One shrill scream nearly sent Xie Lan to his grave.

“Mommy!! There’s a hooligan!!” The little girl turned and ran into the house, her piercing scream cutting through half the alley.

A household next door opened their door—it was an old man who also looked confused when he saw Dou Sheng.

He pondered for a long time before asking uncertainly, “Douzi?”

Dou Sheng’s face went dead. “Yeah.”

“How did you go astray again?” The old man sighed and closed the door. Half his muttering was muffled behind it: “These kids nowadays spoil too easily. Might as well not bother treating them.”

Inside, an old lady’s voice said, “Why do you care so much about other people’s kids?”

Xie Lan watched Dou Sheng’s gradually disappearing expression and suddenly felt that vague worry in his heart vanish. He turned his head away and laughed.

“What are you laughing at?” Dou Sheng turned to glare at him. “Don’t provoke hooligans, or you’ll get beaten up.”

Xie Lan asked, “What does ‘hooligan’ mean?”

Dou Sheng sighed. “People dressed like me.”

Xie Lan laughed out loud again.

In the end, it was actually Xie Lan who borrowed half a head of garlic, forcibly extending the life of the nearly-doomed potato and ribs dish.

By the time the four dishes finally made it to the table, it was already 8 PM. The old lady had just woken from her nap and looked somewhat dazed at the table full of steaming hot food.

“Grandma, let’s eat.”

Che Ziming put chopsticks in her hand. “I just called my dad. The surgery is scheduled for tomorrow morning. It’s not a major surgery, but his blood pressure is unstable, so he’ll need to stay in the hospital for observation for two or three days after.”

Grandma fiddled with the chopsticks without nodding or looking at Che Ziming, unclear whether she heard or not.

Five people sat around a square table, Xie Lan and Dou Sheng squeezed on one side. Suddenly, no one spoke.

Xie Lan had never been in contact with AD patients, but he instinctively felt this sudden silence wasn’t good.

Like this afternoon’s chaotic misidentification—though absurd, it was better than this sudden silence.

The old lady ate with her head down, like a well-behaved child who’d been taught a lesson, taking from each of the four dishes in turn, not missing any.

Dai You nudged Che Ziming with his elbow, saying quietly, “We need to stay tonight.”

Before Che Ziming could object, Dou Sheng hummed in agreement. “I already told my mom.”

“Me too.” Yu Fei sighed. “So tired, too lazy to go back. Let’s just sleep here.”

Che Ziming was silent for a long while, his eyes slightly red, and nodded gently.

“Thanks,” he said softly.

Dou Sheng patted his shoulder.

The meal was relatively quiet. Che Ziming tried to start conversations several times, but the old lady didn’t really engage. Her eyes seemed focused only on the food at the table, and she had quite an appetite, finishing an entire bowl of rice by herself.

Elderly people eat slowly. The five boys waited for her. When she finally put down her chopsticks, Che Ziming breathed a long sigh of relief and stood up. “Grandma, I’ll clear the dishes.”

“Put it down.” The old lady’s tone suddenly turned icy.

Che Ziming’s movements froze.

The old lady looked up at him, her gaze sweeping across Yu Fei, Xie Lan, Dou Sheng, Dai You, and finally returning to Che Ziming’s face.

“Who are you?” She clutched her hands warily. “Why did you suddenly appear in my house? Where’s Che Jun? Where did you hide my son?”

Che Ziming’s shoulders unconsciously shrank. He forced a dry laugh. “Grandma, you’re confused again. Dad’s at the hospital.”

“Nonsense!” The old lady suddenly grew angry, snatching the enamel plate from his hands and slamming it on the table before turning to leave. “I need to go find my son.”

“Grandma!” Che Ziming immediately chased after her.

Xie Lan and the others also stood up. Dou Sheng and Dai You quickly ran to block the courtyard gate while Yu Fei and Che Ziming pulled the old lady back together.

No one dared use force. They all lightly tugged at her sleeves with one hand while holding her hand with the other.

The old lady turned around and suddenly gripped Xie Lan rather forcefully.

Xie Lan stiffened.

That hand was very rough, covered with wrinkles, but the palm was warm.

“Mingming.” The old lady instructed Xie Lan in a trembling voice, “You go find your dad and bring him back. Don’t let these people stay in the house—I don’t feel safe with them here.”

Xie Lan was stunned for two seconds. His brain hadn’t processed it yet, but his mouth had already instinctively said “okay.”

But he quickly realized the old lady’s brain had taken another wrong turn. He hurriedly extended his other hand, gently stroking the back of her hand, looking down. “Grandma, I’m sorry. Dad went to school.”

Yu Fei and Che Ziming held their breath, staring at him.

Xie Lan’s tone was very calm. “This time I did too poorly in Chinese. The teacher called my dad in.”

The old lady frowned and pondered for a while. “Bad at Chinese again? You’ve been bad at Chinese since you were little. You’re good at math, right?”

Upon hearing this, Che Ziming’s brow trembled. He turned away, forcibly holding back tears.

Xie Lan glanced at him and hummed. “Dad’s angry and wants to beat me. Can we not let him come home today?”

“Huh?”

The old lady was stunned again. After a good while, she suddenly turned to look at Yu Fei. “His dad wants to beat him?”

Yu Fei immediately nodded. “Yes, with a stick as thick as… thicker than a telephone pole.”

Dou Sheng rolled his eyes at the gate and cleared his throat. “Not that exaggerated. About as thick as a rolling pin.”

Xie Lan didn’t understand what a rolling pin was. He still kept his head lowered, saying softly, “Grandma, I’m a little scared. Can I sleep in your room tonight?”

The courtyard was very quiet—quiet for several full minutes.

This silence caused the only sound-activated light bulb in the courtyard to go out. Everyone stood in the dim night. Dou Sheng, leaning against the gate, turned his head and looked at Xie Lan’s gentle profile in the darkest shadows.

Xie Lan held the old lady’s hand, patting it gently, then stroking it tenderly.

After a long time, the old lady finally answered, “Hey, if you want to sleep there, come sleep. Your dad really isn’t a good person either—how can he beat his own son like that?”

She was about to pull Xie Lan back to the room when Xie Lan quickly withdrew his hand as she turned. Yu Fei immediately stepped back, and Xie Lan grabbed Che Ziming with his other hand, completing the handoff instantly.

The old lady led her actual grandson toward the house. She lifted the door curtain and turned back.

Che Ziming held his breath.

She saw his face clearly, hesitated for a moment, but didn’t let go of his hand.

“Mingming just got back?” She suddenly said in surprise. “Didn’t your dad say you went to play video games with classmates this afternoon?”

The courtyard was silent for a few seconds.

Che Ziming’s mouth twitched as he swallowed his tears and hummed in agreement.

“Sigh, you’re about to take the college entrance exam—play less of that stuff.” The old lady sighed deeply. “Are you hungry? Grandma will make dumplings.”

Dou Sheng walked over and said calmly, “Sounds good. The dumpling filling is in the fridge, not seasoned yet. Perfect for you to season it.”

The old lady turned to look at him. “Douzi came too? So many classmates here. Wait, I’ll make them for you all.”

She suddenly became energetic, shuffling in her cotton slippers briskly toward the kitchen.

The boys followed. The old lady moved very nimbly, knowing where all the seasoning jars were. In no time, she’d mixed the dumpling filling and pulled out a board from the cabinet to start kneading dough.

“Mingming.” She called back to Che Ziming. “There’s shrimp and scallops you love in the freezer. Get them out for Grandma.”

Che Ziming choked up again. Just as he was about to say something, he opened his mouth and let out a thunderous burp.

“Burp—”

From holding back tears.

The old lady cackled with laughter. “Are you hungry or not?”

“Hungry, I’m super hungry.” Che Ziming hurried to the fridge. “Wait for me, Grandma. I’ll roll wrappers with you.”

“What nonsense are you spouting? You can’t roll for shit—they’ll all break when cooked.” The old lady pushed him away. “Go back to your room and do homework. Where’s your dad?”

“Ahem.”

Dou Sheng cleared his throat.

Che Ziming paused. “My dad went to get supplies. The market temporarily closed, so he had to drive to Z Village himself. Then the highway out of the city was blocked, so he took back roads. His car broke down on the road, and now he’s waiting for the insurance company to come fix it. The insurance company also has to take back roads. Anyway, after the car is fixed and he gets back on the road and comes home, it’ll take three days.”

The other three almost couldn’t hold back their laughter. Only Xie Lan and the old lady were both confused.

Xie Lan even suspected he’d just taken a Chinese listening comprehension test.

After a long while, the old lady figured it out before Xie Lan did and nodded. “Alright then, you’ll eat Grandma’s cooking these few days. No ordering takeout.”

“Okay.” Che Ziming nodded vigorously.

Everyone breathed a long sigh of relief. Dai You waved his hand, and all the unnecessary personnel retreated from the kitchen.

Xie Lan followed Dou Sheng out to the courtyard and grabbed two small stools to sit on. Xie Lan stretched out his legs, spacing out at the cement floor tiles.

Actually, he’d been very nervous—having to improvise lies in Chinese on the spot. His tongue had almost tied itself in knots.

“Don’t be nervous, the disease is just like this.” Dou Sheng suddenly said quietly beside him. “Alzheimer’s patients are especially prone to confusion after waking up, but if you coax them well, it usually works out. Actually, Grandma’s condition isn’t that severe. Out of ten times I come, she’s clear-headed about six or seven times. Sometimes she even chats with me about the news. The main thing today was that Che Ziming said the wrong thing. I only just realized—we shouldn’t have said his dad was hospitalized. Hospitalization is a negative psychological trigger. When the old lady gets anxious, she becomes more confused.”

His voice was low, rambling through these explanations, as if explaining to Xie Lan but also comforting him.

Xie Lan didn’t fully understand. When his mind went blank, his listening comprehension dropped sharply. After a while, he nodded vaguely.

There was an indescribable feeling.

Heartache, yes, but also a sense of warmth. The old lady’s thinking took sharp turns—sometimes wrong, sometimes right. When wrong, she could point at Yu Fei and make Che Ziming call him grandpa. When right, she constantly remembered Che Ziming loved shrimp, was good at math but poor at Chinese, and should play fewer video games before college entrance exams.

Just like Xie Lan’s mother—even when seriously ill, she remembered that London springs were windy and told him to definitely wear a scarf and high-necked sweater when coming to the hospital.

“Some people really do have a natural healing ability.” Dou Sheng suddenly said.

Xie Lan was startled. “What does ‘healing’ mean?”

Dou Sheng said, “It means being able to lead other people out of bad emotions. People will inevitably fall into darkness sometimes. They need a beam of light to lead them out. Once they’re led out, they’re fine.”

Xie Lan seemed to understand somewhat, but was also a bit confused.

He wasn’t good at analyzing metaphorical sentences, especially since Dou Sheng’s words seemed deliberately vague, unclear and ambiguous.

He pondered for a while before catching the key point. “What about you? Have you fallen into darkness before?”

In the dim night, Dou Sheng turned to look into his eyes.

“I have.” he said quietly.

Xie Lan hesitated. “Then you…”

“But I’m a lucky person. I encountered light, and I fought hard myself, slowly walking out.”

“Oh.”

Xie Lan breathed a sigh of relief, thinking of how Dai You and Che Ziming had mentioned many times about Dou Sheng’s grades plummeting then bouncing back from rock bottom. He was actually curious, but he didn’t want to ask. He just felt that maybe one day Dou Sheng would tell him proactively, since they were now pretty good friends.

Maybe not—Dou Sheng had many friends, so who knows if he considered him a very good friend.

But he did consider Dou Sheng a good friend.

Xie Lan sighed, murmuring, “Light…”

“What is it?” Dou Sheng looked at him.

Xie Lan thought for a moment and said, “I don’t think I’ve encountered any.”

“Haven’t you.” Dou Sheng’s lips curved slightly upward. “That’s normal. Have you memorized ‘Written on the Wall of West Forest Temple’?”

Xie Lan was stunned. “What wall?”

“Written on the Wall of West Forest Temple.” Dou Sheng withdrew his gaze, looking at the cement bricks outside the courtyard, saying in an extremely low voice, “Maybe you yourself are a beam of light.”

“What?”

The voice was too soft. Xie Lan couldn’t hear clearly and frowned. “Can you speak louder? This is very difficult for me. Are you deliberately bullying people again?”

“If you can’t hear, forget it.”

Dou Sheng smiled and stood up, ruffling his hair again.

Xie Lan frowned and dodged, glaring at him.

“I’m just saying, I advise you to hurry up and learn ‘Written on the Wall of West Forest Temple.’ Even elementary students can recite it.”

Dou Sheng said as he stood and walked toward the house, saying lightly, “I cannot see the true face of Mount Lu, only because I am within this mountain.”