I’m really immortal Chapter 24

Liu Chang’an and Ann Wan parted ways, and Liu slowly walked towards the bridge.

The river breeze was warm, and the evening sun had already sunk behind the mountain, leaving only a faint glow. As he gazed afar, he saw the majestic statue of a great hero at the head of Orange Island, smiling warmly at him. Liu Chang’an had studied and lived in this city, which had experienced fiery trials and bloodshed, and was now being rebuilt.

There are the humble and the great, the ugly and the beautiful among humans. Life is short, but it can be as grand as a epic poem, yet, from a higher perspective, it’s just a drama.

Su Shi once told a story:

“When you pour water into a bowl, the water will overflow, and the ants will climb on the floating sesame seeds, unaware of their fate. When the water dries up, the ants will leave, and upon seeing their peers, they will weep and say, “How can I not see you again?” But, do they know that there is a vast highway, where they can fly high and far?”

Liu Chang’an thought that even ants could evoke nostalgia, and the fear and anxiety of being attached to the sesame seeds. He had never looked down on ants.

Ye Shi was like that lovable ant, and Liu Chang’an discovered that since seeing Qin Yanan, his memories of Ye Shi had become clearer, and many things needed to be reflected upon, so that his own memories could become more complete.

However, this wasn’t necessary. Years of memories were suppressed at the bottom of his heart, originally a form of self-protection, otherwise, the countless memories would swirl in his mind like the wind, and he might have gone mad.

Liu Chang’an returned to the small district, picking some gourd vines under the wall. This was the only remaining wall in the entire district, with vegetables planted at the bottom, and gourd vines, bitter melon vines, and cucumber vines climbing up the top. Not far away, there was a grape trellis, where people who had finished dinner were chatting and enjoying the cool evening.

“Little Liu, hurry up and finish your dinner, let’s go play cards…”

“Okay, these days, we can’t even gather two tables for mahjong.”

“This spring and summer, the yang energy is strong, and it’s easy to get sick.”

After chatting for a while, Liu Chang’an went home, gathered the dried fragrant vegetables, and started sweeping the fallen leaves on the roof.

Tonight’s dinner was, of course, the gourd vines, stir-fried with chili peppers without meat. Liu Chang’an had lived in Xiangnan for many years and was already accustomed to the local flavor.

Life is actually a very simple thing, as long as one doesn’t have too many desires, and doesn’t crave immediate satisfaction, there won’t be so much anxiety and worry. However, life is short, and not everyone can be like Liu Chang’an, who can wait quietly and slowly fulfill their desires, which is the root of the world’s impatience.

After washing up, Liu Chang’an changed into a white vest and black cotton pants, wore grass sandals, and carried a large fan, arriving at the grape trellis to play cards.

The rules of playing cards and mahjong were similar, except that cards were used, and the gameplay was faster than mahjong. Liu Chang’an was naturally an old hand.

The game required scoring, and when the score reached one hundred, money would be counted. Liu Chang’an had good eyesight, so he took charge of scoring, but the elderly folks also wore glasses, frequently checking Liu Chang’an’s calculations, muttering to themselves as they counted their fingers.

“When will you take the college entrance exam?” Old Qian asked, not having a runny nose today, and being more spirited than usual, thanks to eating three families’ worth of food last night.

“SOon,” Liu Chang’an smiled, “I’ll just take whatever college I get into.”

“That won’t do… You should focus on reviewing, and don’t play cards before the exam,” Old Qian said with concern, and if they didn’t play cards today, the game would disperse, so it was decided that Liu Chang’an would start reviewing from tomorrow.

After a night of playing, Old Qian’s luck had turned, and he lost.

“I’ll come back tomorrow!” Old Qian pulled Liu Chang’an’s hand, his eyes burning with determination, vowing to return.

“Okay,” Liu Chang’an laughed heartily, delighted to have won.

“You wait!” Old Qian grumbled, and walked away.

Liu Chang’an happily put away the eight blocks of money, folded the table and chairs, and placed them on the wall. These tables and chairs didn’t belong to anyone, but had been collected from each household and placed here, serving as public entertainment equipment.

The cards, ballpoint pen, and scorebook, however, were Liu Chang’an’s. He packed them up, then smiled at the approaching Qin Yanan.

Qin Yanan hadn’t expected Liu Chang’an to discover her, and walked over. The auntie from the small shop, who was waiting for the card game to disperse, saw this scene and casually put away her hand, yawned, and occasionally glanced over.

Under the bright light of the large lamp, Qin Yanan’s tall figure seemed to cast an even taller shadow, wearing a black skirt, with a crimson silk belt around her waist, exuding a sense of lightness and fire, but her slender waist made one worry if it could support her ample bosom.

Qin Yanan had eaten dinner at her father’s place, chatted about her grandfather and Liu Chang’an, and was in a complex mood, feeling both puzzled and annoyed.

Liu Chang’an smiled, and seemed to have greeted her, then walked away, Qin Yanan hesitated, originally planning to leave, but since she had come, she didn’t want to say anything, and followed him instead.

The sparse branches of the paulownia tree, the clear moonlight, and the quiet courtyard made Liu Chang’an recall a poem:

“The moon hangs low on the sparse paulownia tree, the cold window is locked. Who sees the solitary figure walking alone, with the faint shadow of a lonely wild goose?

“A stir, and I turn back, with lingering resentment. I’ll pluck the cold branches, unwilling to rest, in the desolate sandy beach, the cold.”

Although the poet’s emotions and circumstances were different from Liu Chang’an’s, some of the sentiments were the same.

Qin Yanan felt that Liu Chang’an’s back was lonely, even making her think of the first time she listened to Tchaikovsky’s Sixth Symphony. Why was that song, so calm and smooth, with a gentle ripple, called “Pathetique”? Only after listening to it many times and growing up did she understand that true loneliness was hard to express, like the calm sea surface, hiding a stormy undercurrent.

What was it about Liu Chang’an’s smile that made one see sorrow, but hide sadness? Liu Chang’an turned around, smiled, and looked at Qin Yanan’s familiar face.

“I have a good relationship with your family, especially with your grandmother, we’re very close,” Liu Chang’an said, still smiling, looking at the nearly leafless paulownia tree.

Qin Yanan discussed Liu Chang’an with her father today, but her father didn’t know much more than she did. Her grandfather’s intention was to let Qin Yanan interact more with Liu Chang’an, and other things would be discussed later.

What things would be discussed later?

When her grandfather passed away, her father was still young, and could be said to have been raised by her grandfather. Her father had never disobeyed her grandfather, and Qin Yanan was clear that if her grandfather wanted to do something, her father would absolutely support it.

Did Liu Chang’an have a kinship with her grandmother’s side? But this seemed too far-fetched, and, in Qin Yanan’s memory, there had been no impression or connection with her grandmother’s relatives. Was it because they had finally found a thread of kinship with Liu Chang’an, who was a descendant of her grandmother’s family?

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