Chapter 11: The Profile of Chen Zijing

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Li Heng was a bit stunned. What the hell was going on? If outsiders didn’t believe him, fine, but did that mean he had no credibility even within his own family? Was that how one treated their own younger brother? What about basic trust between people? He didn’t want to explain, was too lazy to explain, and besides, it couldn’t be explained clearly. He placed the prepared rabbit on the chopping board and went upstairs. After all, his second sister was a foodie; the rabbit would definitely become a dish soon enough.

Entering his single room, Li Heng sat on the hard wooden bed, lost in thought. To be honest, he was quite troubled now. A single misstep had brought endless regret; everyone treated him like Ximen Qing. Outsiders gossiping was one thing—they couldn’t interfere anyway. But even Yang Yingwen, who was supposed to be close, was guarding against him as if he were a thief. It was truly infuriating.

Well, let it be. They were outsiders, unreliable. But second sister, you and I are kin—how could you rub salt in the wound? In the future, this would be no big deal. Chen Zijing was so beautiful, her family so prestigious; she might even have been a bragging point. But in this era… he truly understood what moral boundaries meant and how terrifying gossip could be.

His gaze wandered aimlessly across the room, eventually resting on the corner of the desk, where a black bag sat. He was curious—what study materials had Chen Zijing bought for him? Were they the same as before? Fearful of the butterfly effect caused by his rebirth, Li Heng hurriedly grabbed the black bag and opened it swiftly. Peering inside, he was relieved.

Thankfully, nothing had changed. As expected, it contained various subject textbooks, test papers, and a thick book of corrected mistakes. The mistake book was filled with questions Chen Zijing had gotten wrong or deemed very important. To be honest, in 1987, in a backwater place like Shao City, good review materials were scarce; having even one resource book was a blessing. The allure of test papers—especially from a prestigious school like Capital No. 4 High School—was immense.

In his previous life, these materials and papers had boosted his college entrance exam score by at least 20 points, allowing him to enter his dream university.

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On this point, he was always grateful to Chen Zijing. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say she was a benefactor in his life. Unfortunately, her mother and family were difficult to get along with and looked down on him from the start, causing ongoing friction.

The Chen family was a prominent clan. Chen Gaoyuan had five siblings, all successful and thriving, and their celebrations were lively affairs. It was said that Grandmother Chun’s memorial rites would last three days and nights. This was hard on second sister, who had been so upset several times she nearly cried. But Li Heng didn’t care much—having lived two lives, he had seen many storms; this was a mere trifle.

Closing his eyes to meditate briefly, when he opened them again, he had successfully shielded his mind and was calm as still water. He picked up a pen and diligently continued writing the novel *To Live*. Could he become famous with this work? Could he reverse the tarnished “Ximen Qing” image? Could he change his family’s financial hardship? He pinned all his hopes on it.

With the novel’s great reputation in his past life, Li Heng was especially careful, writing meticulously. Every 5,000 words, he would painstakingly review every word, sentence, and paragraph three to five times without allowing any errors.

That night, after staying up until 2 a.m., Li Heng fell asleep at his desk and had a dream. In the dream, three children—a boy and two girls—were searching for him with flashlights in the dark, calling out “Dad” persistently through the night.

Li Heng woke up suddenly, tears welling up at the corners of his eyes. He looked out the window, feeling desolate. Now that he had been reborn, he wondered whether those children were doing well in that other world.

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The year was 1987, the ninth day of the lunar New Year, during the performance season.

Before dawn, the neighboring Chen family started setting off firecrackers. At the same time, the Western and percussion bands played together, while filial sons and virtuous grandsons cried hysterically.

At an auspicious time, Grandmother Chun, who had lain at home for five days and nights, was finally taken out for burial. The scene was magnificent, a rare spectacle in Shangwan Village in thirty years.

Not only did local town officials attend, but important representatives from the county and city were also present. Nearby neighbors showed unprecedented unity, gathering to see the elderly lady off on her final journey.

In life, Grandmother Chun had been very accomplished. She had participated in both the Liberation War and the Korean War alongside her husband. Even after returning to the village, she lived with great dignity and kindness, helping many people and earning their respect.

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Regardless of age or status, everyone respectfully called her “Grandmother Chun” when meeting her.

However, Li Heng stayed curled up in bed, unmoving. This was because the feng shui master had posted a notice: anyone born in 1959, 1970, or 1982 had a birth year that clashed with the time of Grandmother Chun’s passing. They were to avoid the funeral procession and keep at least a hundred steps away from the coffin.

The origins of this custom were unknown but had lasted for hundreds of years. The villagers all adhered to it out of caution—no one was foolish enough to risk their life testing it.

Even if someone’s father passed away and the time of death conflicted with the son’s birth, the son had to hide and only appear after maintaining distance.

Of course, exceptions always existed—there were always skeptics. Once, a drunken butcher, emboldened by alcohol, tested the custom personally and died on the spot. Whether it was fate or coincidence, everyone steered clear.

The noisy commotion outside went on for a long time, disturbing Li Heng’s sleep, so he got up and continued writing.

After five days of hard work, *To Live* had grown to over 34,000 words. He planned to push hard for another day to reach 40,000 words and send it to the town the next day.

By noon, Grandmother Chun’s funeral was over, and Li Jianguo and Tian Run’e returned home.

According to custom, Chen Gaoyuan warmly sent over some untouched leftover dishes from the kitchen, but the strong-willed Tian Run’e politely refused.

Seeing this, Chen Gaoyuan, aware of the true cause, humbled himself and spoke kindly:

“Run’e, we’ve been old friends for decades. You know Zhong Lan’s temper. She was just stubborn in the heat of the moment and went too far; I’ve already talked to her. For the sake of old ties, please don’t take it to heart.”

Tian Run’e forced a smile. “Gaoyuan, don’t blame Zhong Lan. I’m not angry. It was really my son’s fault for causing trouble for Zijing. As a mother, I understand her feelings well.”

Tian Run’e’s tone was firm, but no matter how much they persuaded her, she refused to accept the leftovers.

Chen Gaoyuan wore himself out trying but to no avail. In the end, he sighed and took several bowls of leftover food back home.

In the kitchen, the whole Chen family was present. Seeing her husband rejected, Zhong Lan, a little annoyed, snatched the basin from Chen Gaoyuan’s hand and sent it to another family.

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