Chapter 127: The Great Writer Li Heng Is Tang Sanzang

Time is a ruler, measuring people, hearts, and distances; the human heart is a scale, weighing light and heavy, emotion and feeling.

Even after more than twenty years apart, Zhao Jing’s feelings for Li Jianguo have never changed.

Although she was attentive and caring toward her husband after marriage, she never concealed her feelings for Li Jianguo—honest before marriage, and never deliberately avoided them afterward.

In contrast, Li Li both loved and hated Li Jianguo, but mostly envied him.

Yet Li Li and Zhao Jing had never quarreled over this, and sometimes even teased each other about it.

The noon bus departed at 11 a.m., passing through Huixian County, Huamen, Liudouzhai, Jianhua, Qijiang, and Yanggiao.

The next stop was the destination: Simenqian Town.

As the bus entered the small town, Zhao Jing couldn’t help rolling down the window and leaning out to look, then after a long while said to Li Heng beside her: “It’s been over twenty years—I still look the same.”

Li Heng understood completely: “The town is remote and conservative. Even if the outside world has undergone massive changes since reform and opening-up, it hasn’t reached here yet.”

Zhao Jing agreed, and asked with concern: “What about your parents? Have they changed much?”

Li Heng was surprised: “Didn’t your mother ever receive my mother’s photos?”

Zhao Jing shook her head and sighed: “Ever since your father was dismissed from his post, she stopped sending photos altogether—it’s been many years now.”

As the noon bus pulled into the station beside the road, Zhang Zhiyong, whose eyes kept darting everywhere, tugged at Li Heng:

“Old Heng, your mom’s at the post office entrance.”

Following Zhang Zhiyong’s clueless gaze, Li Heng indeed saw his mother, Tian Rune. Coincidentally, she was chatting beside a dark green mailbox with Wei Shiman.

Li Heng muttered to himself: When did these two become such chatterboxes?

In the past, they were purely buyer and seller—one sold rice, the other bought it—and had nothing else to say to each other.

After saying a few words to Zhao Jing and Li Ran, Li Heng quickly got off the bus and headed straight for the post office entrance: “Mom, why are you here?”

Hearing her son’s voice, Tian Rune froze, then quickly turned around with a warm smile: “Man Zai, you’re back. I just called your Aunt Zhao Jing, but couldn’t get through.”

Before she finished speaking, she spotted Zhao Jing and her daughter crossing the road, and hurried over to greet them: “Zhao Jing? Is that really you? You actually came?”

Tian Rune’s face beamed with joy—meeting an old friend after so many years, her eyes held nothing but surprise and delight.

“I just got back from Gansu, and came to see you and Jianguo.”

“Did you move back to Xiangnan?”

“Yes, Li Li left, and I had no ties left there—I’m returning to retire. Rune, do you welcome me?”

“At fifty? Talking about retirement already? Isn’t that a bit too soon?”

Once the topic started, the two old friends chattered endlessly, leaving Wei Shiman at the post office entrance completely forgotten.

Worried his future mother-in-law might feel awkward, Li Heng greeted Wei Shiman: “Auntie, good afternoon.”

“Oh, Li Heng, good afternoon. You just got back from outside?” Wei Shiman sized him up and asked casually.

“Yes, I took a little trip.”

As Li Heng spoke, he spotted Xiao Han walking out of the post office: “Old classmate, congratulations on getting into Shanghai Medical University.”

In public, Xiao Han was composed, elegant, and aloof—she merely gave a faint “Mm,” then said to Wei Shiman: “Mom, I’m hungry. Let’s go home for lunch.”

Seeing her daughter’s cold, distant demeanor, Wei Shiman offered Li Heng an apologetic smile and turned to follow her daughter away.

On the way back, Wei Shiman asked: “Didn’t I tell you before? Don’t be so cold to Li Heng when you meet him. He greeted you—you should at least respond politely.”

Xiao Han smiled faintly, crisp and clear: “I’m being confident because someone’s secretly in love with me.”

Wei Shiman was speechless. After a moment, she asked: “Where did you learn that line?”

Xiao Han replied: “It’s in a book.”

Wei Shiman scolded: “Even if someone is secretly in love with you, be nicer. You’re from the same town and classmates—you should at least maintain a semblance of courtesy.”

Xiao Han turned to her mother with a strange look: “Mom, when did you get so soft?”

Wei Shiman said: “His novel ‘To Live’ has sold over a million copies as a standalone. He’s a proper, legitimate big writer now.”

Xiao Han asked: “Do you like his novels?”

Wei Shiman shook her head: “I read it once. Too tragic—I don’t want to read it again. But your father’s read it several times.”

A spark flashed in Xiao Han’s eyes, and she encouraged him with her gaze: “If you like this remarried man so much, why not talk to Dad? I’ll accept him—get both the man and the money. Two birds, one stone.”

Wei Shiman laughed and sighed: “Alright, alright. I know you can’t stand him. I won’t mention him again.”

…

Now that she had money, Tian Rune, raised as a wealthy young lady, immediately carried herself differently. Always frugal, she now splurged to entertain her old friend after more than twenty years—buying precious mountain goods and scouring the market for several pounds of top-quality beef.

Seeing how her husband and eldest daughter wore the same old clothes day after day, rain or shine, she went to the fabric store and bought six chi of cloth to have them each made a new outfit.

As for her second daughter and Little Man Zai, Tian Rune didn’t bother—she sensed they disliked custom-made clothes and preferred buying fashionable, ready-made ones from the market, so she let them have their way.

As always, the moment Li Heng’s group arrived at the village entrance, someone shouted:

“Oh! The college student’s back! This time it’s a real university!”

Say what you will about Shangwan Village—this time it was extraordinary: three college students emerged at once—one to Tsinghua, one to Fudan, and Zhang Zhiyong got into Shanghai too—it became a sensation across the surrounding villages.

Especially Yang Ying’s top score in the provincial science exam had a huge impact. People talked about her over tea and meals, and many parents brought their children walking miles, even dozens of miles, to learn from her. Not just villagers, but townspeople and even folks from neighboring towns came.

This time, Yang Fu finally felt proud. Encouraged by neighbors, he happily prepared a promotion banquet to collect gifts—even if each household gave just one or one point two yuan, with so many, it would add up to over a hundred yuan, enough to match half a year’s labor income.

But…

Early in the morning, just as Yang Fu, basking in praise from villagers, had finished slaughtering the pig, his wife rushed over, breathless:

“Husband, Xiao Si is gone.”

Yang Ying was the fourth child, nicknamed Xiao Si.

Yang Fu initially didn’t care—he didn’t care where his daughter was or how she felt, only whether the banquet would look impressive and how much gift money he’d collect. He scolded:

“Gone? Let her go! Why are you screaming like that? Can she fly away?”

Yang’s wife whispered urgently: “All her clothes are gone—she must have run away!”

“Run? Where could she go?” Yang Fu said this, but instantly panicked, dropped his butcher knife, and rushed into his youngest daughter’s room.

He was fine until he stepped inside—then his head spun, dizzy.

The room was cleaner than if a dog had licked it.

Opening the clothes chest, he saw not a single decent garment remained—clearly, Yang Ying didn’t want her father to exploit her fame, and had fled the Yang household overnight.

“Chase her! Chase her!” Yang Fu, furious enough to spit blood, crushed his tobacco leaf and barked orders, racing toward town.

He didn’t believe a woman would dare walk through a graveyard at night.

That stretch had no people for miles—no unmarried girl would dare walk it alone, let alone someone his age.

He chased frantically toward town, but didn’t catch her—instead, he became the laughingstock of the entire region.

Now the pig was slaughtered for nothing, the banquet canceled, and after three days of glory, Yang Fu walked with his head down, afraid neighbors would call out to mock him.

Because of this, many village women whispered behind his back: “Heh! This is what you get for sowing melons and reaping melons, sowing beans and reaping beans. You treated her badly from the start, now you want to show off? You’ve pulled your own balls off. But Yang Ying isn’t a fool—look at her for nearly twenty years, who’d let you have your way?”

Based on his past-life memories, Li Heng knew exactly where Yang Ying had gone—she was definitely at Xiao’s house.

But Xiao Hai was the former town secretary—a major figure in this remote snow-capped mountain region. Yang Fu, a country bumpkin with no worldly experience, could strut and bully at home, but before the Xiao family, he dared not even breathe—asked a few muffled questions at the gate, then left.

In this era, admission letters were delivered to the town post office. With Wei Shiman able to intercept the letter, Yang Ying had no fear of her father causing trouble.

Hearing this huge gossip upon returning to the village, Zhang Zhiyong’s eyes bulged, jaw dropped, then he raised two thumbs: “Old Mop, you’re awesome! Amazing! I bow to you for life!”

Li Heng’s grandmother had returned, his second aunt was there, and a cousin too.

As soon as they arrived home, family surrounded him, all calling out: “Xiao Heng, you’re back!”

His second aunt grabbed Li Heng, looked him up and down, side to side, and beamed at Tian Rune:

“Sister-in-law, didn’t I always say Xiao Heng was good-looking? Look at him now—this handsome face, all the best of our Li family concentrated in him.”

Li Heng modestly smiled and called out affectionately: “Second Aunt.”

Man Zai was her own flesh and blood, cherished since birth. Hearing her usually uncomplimentary sister-in-law praise her son so warmly, Tian Rune was overjoyed and replied with a smile:

“Xiao Man isn’t bad either—she takes after you, graceful and elegant, a true beauty.”

The young cousin’s surname was Shen, full name Shen Man.

Tian Rune’s remark clearly exaggerated—Shen Man was merely decent-looking, far from “beauty.” But everyone likes to hear praise, after all.

Her sister-in-law had married well—her husband was a department-level cadre, not top-tier but comfortably above average. That’s why she’d taken in their frail mother, seeing how hard her brother’s family struggled.

The second aunt held Li Heng’s hand and chatted at length about college and writing, until ten minutes later, when Li Jianguo returned from the fields, her attention finally turned to Zhao Jing and Li Ran.

Li Heng was finally free—he rushed to his grandmother’s side and fawned: “Grandma, you’re back! I missed you so much, my precious grandma.”

His grandmother was used to his sweet talk—when he was little, whenever he wanted snacks or favors, he’d cling to her hand, shake it, and chant “Grandma, Grandma” nonstop.

She reached out and patted his cheek, smiling like Maitreya Buddha, indulgent: “I heard about your achievements. Good! Good!”

“Our Li family has an heir now. When I go to the afterlife, I’ll have face to meet your grandfather.”

Her grandson was successful, had entered university, was a famous writer—how could she not be thrilled? Lately she’d been so excited she couldn’t sleep at night. Every morning after breakfast, she’d proudly visit neighbors, loving to hear them praise her grandson.

Whenever this happened, she’d keep a gentle smile, say little, but listen intently, storing every compliment.

On the other side of the room, Zhao Jing, seeing Li Jianguo again after twenty years, looked at his weathered face, the streaks of gray in his temples, the mud on his pant legs—and suddenly choked up, but still smiled and said:

“Jianguo, long time no see.”

“Long time no see—you’re back,” Li Jianguo said, putting down his hoe and hurriedly pouring tea for the mother and daughter.

“No need, Rune already poured tea.”

“It’s fine—hot day, leave it here, you can drink later.”

For this man his mother had loved for so long, Li Ran had long felt a spiritual connection. She studied Li Jianguo carefully, then glanced at Li Heng, and whispered to him:

“Your dad’s not bad-looking, but it’s a waste in the countryside—if he’d been elsewhere, his aura would’ve been richer. He’s actually a handsome older man.”

Li Jianguo’s appearance was certainly passable—otherwise, how could Zhao Jing have remembered him for so many years?

Li Ran added: “But he’s not as good-looking as you. In looks alone, he doesn’t match your mom.”

Wow! That was brutally direct.

Fortunately, Li Heng was long accustomed to the girl’s nature and knew she meant no harm; he joined in the jest:

“That’s right—my mom flat-out refused at first, didn’t think much of my dad.”

Li Ran pressed: “So how did she finally agree? Tell me.”

Li Heng shook his head: “Don’t ask me—that’s even more mysterious to me than to you. But Aunt Zhao probably knows some inside details; you could try digging from her.”

Li Ran glanced at her mother, then leaned forward eagerly: “Really?”

Li Heng said: “Absolutely. If you get it out of her, don’t forget to share with me.”

Li Ran waved it off grandly: “No problem.”

After chatting with her husband and Zhao Jing for a while, Tian Rune entered the backyard just as she was preparing dinner—and her expression changed. Seizing a private moment, she bared her fangs at her beloved son for the first time:

“You ungrateful little wretch—did I ever let you go hungry or thirsty all these years? Why bring Zhao Jing home? You think now that I’ve got it easy, you’re just trying to make my life miserable, aren’t you?”

“Mom, I’m innocent!”

Li Heng sighed in defense: “I didn’t bring Aunt Zhao home—I came back via Dujiangyan in Sichuan, then through Yongzhou. Aunt Zhao came straight from Gansu to Shaoshan.”

Tian Rune stared into his eyes: “Why did you go to Dujiangyan?”

“Of course I had a reason.” Li Heng immediately shifted topics, telling her about his writing.

Hearing her son had new inspiration and was writing a new novel, Tian Rune’s gloom vanished instantly. She said gently: “Give me your manuscript tonight.”

“Alright,” Li Heng replied.

Tian Rune glanced outside at the people in the main room, then suddenly grew solemn. She lowered her voice:

“They all look like flesh-eating monsters, Manzai. Stay far away from that mother and daughter.”

Li Heng instantly understood what his mother was worried about.

She must’ve noticed him and Li Ran whispering in the corner—afraid he’d get entangled with her.

Li Heng was speechless. “Do you really have so little faith in me? Is my taste really that bad?”

Actually, Li Ran wasn’t bad at all—her wild aura probably had a deadly allure for certain men, but you’ve got to compare her to whom, right?

Forget comparing her to Song Yu, Xiao Han, or Chen Zijin.

Even compared to Chen Lijun, Li Ran falls far short—he had zero interest, honestly.

Tian Rune watched him for a long while, then believed him.

After all, Manzai had always been picky—he’d only ever been close to beautiful Chen Zijin, constantly fighting and yelling with Yang Ying over trivial things, sometimes even dragging in clueless friends for group beatings. He knew how to tell the difference.

Of course, her earlier seriousness was simply a mother’s preemptive caution.

Zhao Jing really was something else—twenty years of effort had drained a strong man dry. Just thinking about it made her scalp tingle, seemed impossible. She’d once wondered: how could human desire be so vast?

With a younger aunt and a cousin now at home, plus a new guest, Tian Rune pulled out all the stops: nine bowls for dinner—chicken, meat, soup, vegetables—equal to New Year’s feast, extremely lavish.

As they ate meat, Li Heng thought to himself: the kiln was burning, house construction was expensive—they’d already spent over half of the 3,800 yuan. He guessed Tian Rune was heartbroken, no longer generous.

Tomorrow, I’ll withdraw more from the post office and give it to Mom. After all, I’ve got over a hundred thousand yuan in royalties coming—definitely a millionaire.

Everyone drank a bit of rice wine at dinner—even Li Jianguo, who normally avoided alcohol for health reasons, took a small sip.

Later, Tian Rune teased him: “Old lover’s here, now you’re drinking? You never used to drink with me.”

Li Jianguo laughed heartily, not taking it seriously, and hugged her from behind: “I’d love to drink with you—you never let me.”

“Let go, you’re embarrassing yourself! At your age, still acting like a teenager—I swear Manzai got it from you, always flirting with girls even as a kid.” Tian Rune spoke sharply, but inside, she felt sweeter than honey.

In past years, when times were hard, though materially poor, their spirits were full—that’s what carried them through together.

“Who’s talking behind my back?”

Just as they embraced warmly, Li Heng inappropriately pried open the door a crack and stuck his head in: “Mom, was it you?”

Caught in the act, Tian Rune, not as thick-skinned as father and son, pretended to be stern: “Go get your manuscript. Let your father and me read it.”

Li Heng had come to deliver the manuscript. Hearing that, he stepped right in, handed it to his mother, then pulled out a pack of medicated plaster:

“This plaster was given to Dad by Chen Xiaomi. Try it—see if it works.”

“What kind of medicine is this?”

“I don’t know the ingredients, but I heard it’s from an old famous doctor, specifically for Dad’s spine condition.”

Tian Rune picked up the plaster, sniffed it, then frowned: “Chen Xiaomi has this much kindness? She’s always hated our family.”

He knew she’d ask this. Li Heng didn’t waste words—he laid out everything that happened in Beijing.

During his telling, his sister Li Lan, grandmother, and aunt also entered and sat quietly listening.

It took about ten minutes to finish. Li Heng said: “I suggest Dad apply it. It’s purely herbal—side effects shouldn’t be serious. If it works, we’ll go to Beijing.”

Compared to his father’s life, he didn’t care about pride anymore. If he kept delaying like in his past life, Li Jianguo had only eight years left.

As the saying goes, long illness makes one a doctor. Li Jianguo, having read many medical books, was examining the plaster and said nothing.

Tian Rune glanced at her husband and asked her son: “Manzai, did Chen Xiaomi really say all that?”

Li Heng answered honestly: “You know my nature—everything I said was true.”

Just as Tian Rune was about to turn and consult her husband, Li Lan spoke up: “Why hesitate? Why care about face? Can face feed you? Whether it works or not, go to Beijing.”

Seeing everyone look at her, Li Lan declared: “Even if you don’t trust Chen Xiaomi, you can trust Chen Gaoyuan a bit. With his endorsement, they won’t harm Dad. It’s a last resort—dead horse as living horse. If it works, I’ll personally visit Chen Xiaomi and thank her with a gift.”

Aunt added: “I agree with Lanlan. Brother’s health matters most—grudges and grievances can wait.”

Grandmother nodded: “Jianguo, try it.”

Everyone agreed. Tian Rune said no more, carefully peeled off the plaster’s backing, and applied three patches to her husband’s back.

After the plaster was applied, Aunt turned to Li Heng: “Xiao Heng, what’s your relationship with the Chen family now?”

At this, everyone stared at him.

Li Heng said: “I only had two meals with Uncle Chen and Chen Xiaomi—I never went to their home.”

Hearing this, everyone understood.

After a moment of silence, Tian Rune handed the manuscript to her husband and went to the backyard to attend to Zhao Jing and her daughter, who were bathing.

Too many people at home—no room to sleep. Later, grandmother and aunt and her daughter went to stay at Eldest Sister’s house; Li Heng stayed at Zhang Zhiyong’s—only then did beds free up.

The Li family’s brick kiln was burning; the smell of charred coal could be smelled half a mile away. The blazing red kiln glowed brilliantly in the night, dazzling and enviable. Villagers were baffled: we all till the soil—why didn’t I raise a son like this?

Late at night, just as Li Heng fell asleep at Zhang’s, Yang Mu knocked on the door: “Li Heng, Zhiyong, open up.”

Zhang Zhiyong opened the door: “Auntie, what do you need?”

Yang Mu sounded downcast. She entered and asked Li Heng: “Li Heng, you’re close to my little Si—do you know where she went?”

Li Heng knew full well, but he couldn’t betray his old friend—he also disapproved of Yang Fu’s behavior. “Auntie, I don’t know. I just got back from outside. I was even going to look for Yingwen, but then this happened.”

Yang Mu, who’d only come hoping for luck, nearly cried: “She has no money—where could she go? Please don’t let anything happen to her!”

Li Heng felt sorry for her, but knew she was easily swayed—he held back his words: “Auntie, don’t cry. I’ll ask around among classmates. If I hear anything, I’ll tell you right away.”

“Alright, that’s all we can do,” Yang Mu sighed and left.

Once she was gone, Zhang Zhiyong jumped up: “Right! Old Cloth Rags has no money—she’s got nowhere to go but to beg!”

Li Heng shook his head: “Not necessarily. Xiao Han’s family respects her—she’s a provincial top scorer, not some nobody.”

Zhang Zhiyong widened his eyes: “Big Brother Heng, you’re sure she’s at Xiao’s?”

Li Heng asked: “Where else could she go?”

Zhang Zhiyong said: “She could go to Xiao Feng’s.”

Li Heng asked: “Would you dare walk through Zengjiaao alone at midnight?”

Zhang Zhiyong’s lips moved, but he stayed silent.

In this era, fewer than ten people in Shangwan Village would dare walk through Zengjiaao alone at midnight—and Li Lan was one of them.

Midnight.

After reading Manzai’s prose, Tian Rune’s eyes were moist: “Written beautifully. Manzai’s talent surpasses both of us.”

Li Jianguo had also finished reading. He said proudly: “Heaven has been kind to us.”

Indeed—Li family producing such a literary talent? Even if Li Jianguo had been fired from his post, even if his spine were ruined, even if he died now, he’d die content.

Tian Rune ran her fingers over the manuscript, then after a long while, turned to her husband: “It’s been nearly five hours—how do you feel?”

“At first it burned and tingled, now it’s much more comfortable—less pain,” Li Jianguo replied honestly.

Tian Rune asked quickly: “So it works?”

Li Jianguo thought: “It’s only temporary for now. We’ll have to wait and see.”

Tian Rune felt hope rising: “A reaction is good! A reaction is good! We’ve seen so many doctors—most just took our money. All those medicines only made your body worse.”

With a glimmer of improvement, the couple were in high spirits, whispering softly by the bed, barely sleeping all night.

Lately, Tian Rune had been increasingly content: her youngest son was a famous writer, earning big money, renowned, and a college student; her second daughter was also successful, financially secure. Now, compliments echoed everywhere in and out of the village.

Even when she went to town, people pointed at her back and whispered: “Look—that’s Li Heng’s mother.”

She still sold rice as always, but no one jostled for her spot anymore. Competitors treated her kindly, often chatting about family matters, asking her for parenting advice.

Her rice sold instantly upon arrival—even if it wasn’t as bright as others’, buyers paid premium prices. She truly felt the difference from before.

Everything was improving. Her life had regained hope, purpose.

Lately, matchmakers had been coming by—always for her second daughter. As for Manzai, no one dared approach him anymore.

The only time someone proposed for Li Heng was when the village secretary himself came, saying his sister’s granddaughter had just graduated from Shanghai Jiao Tong University and was assigned to a Shanghai government department—did the Li family have interest?

The secretary brought a photo and said the girl came from a wealthy family, demanded no bride price—truly sincere.

Tian Rune looked at the photo—the girl was beautiful, and she felt a flicker of interest.

But thinking of her entanglement with Chen Zijin, and of Manzai calling out “Song Yu” in his dreams, she could only politely decline.

The secretary sighed heavily for a long while.

Back home, his wife was annoyed: “Li Heng is outstanding, sure, but our niece lives in Shanghai, is beautiful, and we didn’t even mind him sleeping with Chen Zijin—yet she refuses? Isn’t that looking down on common folk?”

The village secretary tapped his pipe: “That’s too much. Honestly, I didn’t expect much when I went.”

If it weren’t for when Xin Yun came back last time and caught sight of Li Heng from afar, and if my elder sister hadn’t asked me to broach the matter, I never would’ve brought it up myself.

Wang Xin Yun is the biological granddaughter of the village secretary’s sister.

The secretary’s wife huffed, “So what if he’s a famous writer? Are you afraid to mention it now?”

The secretary said calmly, “Precisely because he’s a famous writer—he’s rare, more precious than the stars in the sky.”

The secretary’s wife looked up at the sky, “There are so many stars up there—what’s so special about them? They’re not even the moon.”

The secretary puffed on his pipe and said, “See? That’s why I told you to learn to read—you only make fools of yourselves like this. In this universe, the moon can’t compare to the stars.”

The secretary’s wife didn’t understand stars or the moon, so she asked, “Then how are you going to tell your sister? Getting rejected is embarrassing—I wouldn’t even dare say it.”

The secretary took a few puffs, exhaled two smoke rings, and said, “What’s hard about saying it? If she asks, I tell her the truth. If she doesn’t ask, I just pretend it never happened.”

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The secretary has a small role here.

(Also)

(End of Chapter)