Chapter 48: A Poem, A Sentiment

Gaoyou is not considered a particularly large place. Yet throughout South China, there are few who would dare to come to Gaoyou and deliberately cause trouble. Everyone knows that within Gaoyou’s borders, hidden talents lie in wait and several major powers and families are entrenched here. These people, whether officials in government or entrepreneurs in business, are all dazzling figures of authority and privilege.

On the southern bank of the Canal, along Ancient City Road, lies a cluster of old residences imbued with antique charm, their surroundings beautiful and views expansive. Those who can live here are, without exception, people of great ability.

Number 113 Ancient City Road belongs to the Zhou family.

In this spacious house, only five people reside. There is Old Zhou, his granddaughter, two housekeepers responsible for daily affairs and meals, and a skilled man overseeing security.

Oh, and there’s a German Shepherd as well.

Because the Zhou family never flaunts their presence and keeps a low profile, ordinary citizens pay them little heed. However, the wealthy and influential elite are all quite interested in this place. The owner of the residence was once a high-ranking military officer. After his death, the house was gifted to the Zhou family for their elders and youngsters to inhabit. No one knows the Zhou family’s origins. Even when neighbors are questioned, whether they know or not, none ever divulge a thing.

Over time, people simply stopped paying attention. After all, what could an old man and a young girl possibly stir up?

As night falls, the sky is cloudless. The bright moon pours its radiant clarity over the river, scattering shimmering scales of light. A breeze stirs, sending ripples across the canal’s surface, the moonlight glimmering with the waves, dreamy and surreal.

The Zhou family’s two-story house faces the river.

On the flat roof of the second floor, many potted plants thrive, tended meticulously by Old Zhou himself—they are his treasures.

Beside the railing stands a peach wood table and four matching chairs, perfect for resting and admiring the moon.

There, Old Zhou and his granddaughter sit across from each other, sipping tea and discussing its subtleties, while appreciating the beauty of the river.

Not long after, the robust security man—standing nearly 180 centimeters tall, sturdy and with keen, gleaming eyes—ascended holding a phone with its screen flashing.

“Old Zhou, it’s Xiao Li calling.”

“Alright.”

Old Zhou took the call, listened as Xiao Li carefully reported the details about Li Xin. Soon he hung up, gesturing for the man to leave.

“Grandpa, Grandpa, who is that person?” The youthful girl could not contain her curiosity. Ever since witnessing that astonishing speed at noon, she had been distracted all afternoon and evening, her mind endlessly speculating about the slightly plump man’s true identity.

Old Zhou suddenly smiled faintly, the crow’s feet at his eyes deepening.

The girl pouted, frustrated. “Grandpa, you’re being mysterious again. Why not just tell me?”

“Ah… You clever little fox, where did you see me being mysterious?” Old Zhou shook his head with a wry smile, his heart full of affection and indulgence for his precious granddaughter, yet always helpless before her.

A fine, upright young lady, yet instead of learning needlework or literature, she insists on martial arts. Over the years, grandfather and granddaughter have depended on each other, and she has certainly brought him trouble. Otherwise, Old Zhou wouldn’t have abandoned the old house he’d lived in for half a lifetime and moved all the way to Gaoyou.

Thinking of it, it’s all hardship and tears.

Enough, enough, Old Zhou sighed inwardly. The past is past—why dwell on memories?

“Hmph, weren’t you just acting mysterious? It’s just a fat man—what’s so special about him? Every time you smile with that air of calm, it means something’s up.” The girl continued her analysis, sounding quite convincing.

Old Zhou could only smile wryly, realizing he hadn’t known he even had such a quirk.

After taking a sip of tea, he laughed and said, “Look at you, after a few days of martial arts you’re analyzing me now. This old man won’t be able to discipline you much longer.”

“Nonsense! Grandpa, you’re healthy, you’ll live to a hundred!”

The girl was pleased with herself, then spat playfully, “Pah, pah, pah! Listen to my silly mouth—grandpa, you’re already a hundred anyway, hehe.”

Old Zhou smiled helplessly. This little imp always loved to chatter about anything. Truthfully, he knew her thoughts well—right now, she was desperate to learn about that young man’s background.

“Huanhuan, don’t you usually enjoy playing video games?”

“Yes, Grandpa, but why do you ask?” Zhou Yuhuan frowned, puzzled.

“Do you know about a world champion called Dawn?”

“Of course! In the CF gun world he’s the undisputed king, a nine-time champion, repeatedly leading the national team to victory in world tournaments.” Zhou Yuhuan grew even more confused—why bring this up? Dawn was a legendary figure, though he’s retired now.

Wait—Zhou Yuhuan suddenly froze, struck as if by thunder, her mind erupting with waves and endless turmoil.

Old Zhou smiled gently, lifted his teacup, and walked to lean against the railing. He looked up at the bright moon, then down at the surging canal, and elegantly recited a poem.

“Ten years of life and death apart, not thinking of it, yet it’s hard to forget.
A lonely grave a thousand miles away, nowhere to speak of desolation.
Though in youth the memory still churns, dust covers the face, hair frosted.
Night brings distant dreams of home, parents gone, the house forlorn.
Longing in silence, only tears fall by the thousand.
Year after year, the place where the heart breaks—a moonlit night on short pine hill.”

A verse from Su Shi’s “Song of the River City,” with a few words subtly changed by Old Zhou, transforming its meaning profoundly. Though Zhou Yuhuan loved martial arts, she never neglected her studies, often competing and winning prizes. Hearing this, she instantly grasped the poem’s intent.

Su Shi’s original poem was about a husband’s longing for his wife, but with Old Zhou’s changes, it became a son’s grief and yearning for his parents.

Combining her speculation, it was clearly describing that man.

Just as she was about to speak, Old Zhou remained by the railing, abruptly raising his teacup high toward the bright moon.

“What’s Grandpa doing?” Zhou Yuhuan was startled, quickly rising to look.

She saw Old Zhou gather his energy, shouting skyward so loudly that the night trembled and the canal thundered.

“Though the heart bears a thousand sorrows, one can only bow the head in loss!”

Fourteen characters, resonant, powerful.

Zhou Yuhuan suddenly paused, her expression changing dramatically, as if she understood, saw through something. But as she tried to think further, her mind was blank, leaving only the image of a proud, spirited figure smiling amidst the crowd, his bearing extraordinary yet his appearance unruly.

…

Cough, cough—

A violent fit of coughing made Li Xin spit out the food he had just eaten. Thankfully, he reacted quickly, turning away as he lost control, sparing the table’s sumptuous dishes.

He hurriedly took the tissue from Aunt Zhang and wiped himself clean.

“What’s the matter?” Wang Xiaoqian complained, “Just a question—was that necessary? If you don’t want to answer, forget it.”

With that, she shelved her confusion and began shoveling food with her spoon.

Aunt Zhang smiled, helped tidy up, and started eating.

Li Xin looked up at Wang Xiaoqian, took a deep breath to calm himself, and joined them in eating.

Just now, Wang Xiaoqian had asked if he knew Dawn!

There was significance—great significance!