Chapter 002: Letters from Heaven

Wang Jianxin said: "Old man, how old are you? Why are you still playing these tricks with me? What would you do if I really hadn't seen anything?"

Moreover, even if one were to know, no one would care whether a plaque is heavier or lighter by a few taels. However, Wang Jian is different; he understands the old wood. The old man's character is as upright as his name suggests—very strict and proper. Regardless of the task at hand, he will never cut corners. A difference of a few taels would be enough to make the old wood so angry that he couldn't eat for two days. Furthermore, he does not deceive others, nor does he deceive himself. Therefore, since the weight of the plaque is not right, there must be something amiss within it.

However, during these four years, the old man had almost forgotten about this matter. Suddenly being questioned by this little tyrant upon his return, he momentarily did not react and nearly lost control of his bladder.

The dilapidated door hinge emitted a piercing creaking sound as the light from outside streamed into the room. Wang Jian glanced up at the portrait facing the entrance and smiled, then stepped inside, casually brushing his hand over the dusty bamboo rocking chair.

Upon hearing this, the sweat on the old man's forehead began to bead. Aying is his granddaughter, six or seven years younger than Wang Jian, who had followed Wang Jian around since childhood, causing mischief without anyone else being able to manage her. On the day Wang Jian left, twelve or thirteen-year-old Aying insisted on breaking dishes and bowls, wanting to leave with her brother. It was only after Wang Jian gave her a good spanking with a bamboo stick that she settled down. This summer, Aying is graduating from high school. The plan was to send her out to find a job after finishing high school, to earn some money to help with household expenses, and then look for a suitable match for her.

It has been a long time since I drank the tea at home. Wang Jian sat in front of the Eight Immortals table, resting his chin on the tabletop as he looked at the old wood: "Old man, you said you wanted to hold your grandson, but before he even arrived, you left. You are too ungrateful."

However, now that the third master has suddenly returned and dropped such a remark, it has shattered the village chief's long-cherished dream. After all, Aying is quite charming, and a large hotel in town has already agreed to hire her as the lobby manager, offering a monthly salary of 2,000, not including commissions. In this rundown place, a job paying 2,000 a month is exceptionally hard to come by.

My son, Wang Jian, personally writes this letter

The mechanism of the old wood is quite ingenious, with the gaps perfectly aligning with the wood grain. Once reassembled, it hardly loosens or makes any noise. Without special techniques, it cannot be disassembled except through brute force. Moreover, this plaque has been painted, making it indistinguishable from a solid piece of wood from the outside.

"Alright, forget I said anything." Wang Sanye was not one to be overly sentimental. He rummaged through his shabby bag and pulled out a radio that looked quite nice, along with three stacks of red bills, which he tossed onto the village chief's table. Then he turned and walked out. Just as he reached the door, he suddenly turned back with a charming smile: "The radio is a gift for you. This 30,000 yuan is for Aying's college tuition. If I had known your son would swallow this money and prevent Aying from going to school, I would make sure he couldn't sit up for the rest of his life."

The old village chief was also perplexed, thinking to himself: You, the harbinger of disaster, have not returned for four years, and now that you are back, you ask me for the key. Where am I supposed to get a key for you?

This thirty thousand yuan was earned by Wang Jian over four years at university through delivering newspapers, milk, distributing flyers, carrying purified water, collecting scrap, repairing bicycles, selling lamb skewers, roasting sweet potatoes, popping popcorn, and doing odd jobs at a furniture factory during summer and winter vacations, bit by bit. Although he attended a teacher training college that did not charge tuition, there were still considerable expenses for miscellaneous fees, textbooks, and accommodation, not to mention that Wang Jian also needed to eat.

Wang Jian called out to the spot where Old Mu often sat, just like he used to when he returned home on Sundays during high school. Although no one would respond to him anymore, and no one would bring him a bowl of cool mung bean soup, he suddenly felt a sense of reassurance in his heart.

Wang Jian was taken aback for a moment, then fell silent. After a brief pause, he suddenly laughed to himself: "Old man, what's wrong with you? Just because I don't go along with you, you're throwing a tantrum? You're not a child anymore, so stop being so childish. Can you just go along with me this once?"

He bit down hard on his molars, holding back the tears that had swirled around in his eyes. He furrowed his brow tightly and then struggled to unlock the door with the key in his hand

What are you making that face for? You have no education your whole life, and yet you still have to ruin Aying, don't you?" Upon seeing the village chief's expression, Old Wang became displeased and pointed his finger at the village chief's nose, scolding him: "Let me tell you, I only have this one sister, so think carefully about how you handle this.

The old village chief, upon seeing him mention the keys, naturally did not dare to be negligent. When Lord Wang San left, the door of his house was wide open. If some oblivious fool were to wander in and leave a mess or take something, when Lord San returned, it would certainly cause a great uproar. Therefore, the old village chief secretly contemplated the divine will and took it upon himself to lock up the house of Old Mu. He also wrapped the bedding and other items inside with plastic, as they would inevitably grow mold, leading to yet another disturbance.

Alright, alright, please stop talking. I am impatient, and it is uncomfortable to listen. Give me my house key.

Master Wang tapped his fingers on the old village chief's desk, seemingly indifferent to the chief's expression, which resembled that of a man who had just seen the King of Hell. His tone was as aggressive as ever, showing no regard for this ineffectual village chief.

As for it! How could it not be so! You are like a plague god? You are indeed a living plague god. You have no idea, your departure for these four years has been like the spring breeze once again greening the banks of the Yangtze River!

As much as he might think about it, the village chief ultimately does not intend to offend this plague god; the right course of action is to resolve the issue quickly and send him away as soon as possible

You have told me since childhood that a man lying down is a bridge, while standing up is a mountain. Yet you do not allow me to be this bridge, nor this mountain, I feel helpless

After finishing his harsh words, Wang Sanye snatched the key from the village head's hand and casually tossed him a pack of the already partially smoked Furong Wang cigarettes: "I am doing this for her good. Once I take the things, I will leave. Don't keep me for dinner."

"My house key." Old Wang San sat down heavily on the worn-out sofa, glancing around at the furnishings in the village chief's office, and exclaimed, "You've made quite a change; you've even installed air conditioning."

Do not... do not, Ah... Ah Jian. Second uncle told... told you, this air conditioner, it is... it was sent after Teacher Mei... after Teacher Mei left, one for the school and one for me, you see...

The old village chief swallowed hard and said, "What... what key?"

However, the moment he touched the wooden plaque, he immediately felt something was off! Why? The old carpenter's skills were passed down from the lineage of Lu Ban, which is quite impressive to say the least. As for Wang Jian, also known as Wang San Ye, he had always enjoyed following the old carpenter to learn. Although he had never formally studied, the clever Wang San Ye had nearly mastered the old carpenter's skills by the age of fourteen or fifteen, with the only exception being that he could not create the little wooden horse that could move on its own.

I said... Wang Jian, Master Wang San, looked at the old village chief, who was in a state of panic, and scratched his head in surprise: "Am I really that terrible? Is it necessary to look at me as if I were a plague god?"

As soon as he uttered those words, the old wooden tablet bearing the memorial portrait inexplicably toppled to the ground, with the glass frame shattering all around.

Is Wang Jian wealthy? No, he is not

Wang Jian stood outside the house, taking a deep breath. In a moment of daze, he seemed to see the old wooden man sitting in the rocking chair by the door frame, smiling as he ate watermelon while telling himself stories about the strange creatures in the mountains

The last few words spoken by Wang Jian were almost forced out through gritted teeth, each word pronounced distinctly and with resounding strength

As he spoke, Wang Sanye disregarded the village head, who seemed to have something to say, and pushed open the door to his room, walking in. Along the way, the calls of "Third Brother, Third Brother" echoed continuously. Meanwhile, the village head stared at the 30,000 yuan on the table, feeling for the first time how glaring and unsightly this Renminbi was, almost resembling the paper money burned for the deceased.

He chatted on as if he were talking to someone, sometimes complaining and sometimes chuckling foolishly. After a while, he suddenly slapped his forehead and said, "Right, there’s something I’ve always wanted to ask you. You told me to practice in the harsh winter and the sweltering summer, and I’ve endured so much hardship, but you won’t let me use it. What’s the point of my training? To put it bluntly, you’ve lived a life of mediocrity, and in the end, what have you gained? I just can’t understand. I’ve asked you before what the character '坚' in my name Wang Jian means. To put it bluntly, you’ve lived a life of mediocrity, and in the end, what have you gained? I just can’t understand. I’ve asked you before what the character '坚' in my name Wang Jian means. You told me that '坚' means even if it’s buried in the ground, it must stand upright. But damn it, there are so many things I can’t stand; how can you expect me to endure!"

He easily pried open the old wooden plaque, and a letter and a small booklet fell out from inside. Wang Jian bent down to pick up the two items from the ground, then restored the plaque and placed it back on the table. Under the light above his head, he saw six large characters written in regular script on the envelope:

Old man, I am back

Give me the key

He helplessly crouched down to clean up the shattered glass scattered on the floor, then carefully wiped the dust off the photo, and subsequently bent down to pick up the fallen memorial tablet

Thus, he could immediately determine that there was a mechanism hidden within this tablet. This skill is not possessed by others; it is unique to the old carpenter. It is likely that the old carpenter, knowing he was nearing the end of his life, specifically had a tablet made from high-quality pear wood for himself. This tablet is hollow inside, and if it were not for the old carpenter, who had decades of experience working with wood, no one else would be able to discern the moisture content within the weight of this tablet.

Creak ... ...

He did not say much, but walked straight to the kitchen, took out the cheap purple clay teapot from the cupboard, and washed it thoroughly inside and out at the water well in the backyard. Then he started the stove to boil water. These actions were very skillful and done in one go. While waiting for the water to boil, he also tidied up the front hall a bit, took an energy-saving light bulb from his bag to replace it, and lit three cigarettes for the old wooden man.

Wang Jian stood up, too lazy to waste words with this useless old man. With his cowardly demeanor, not to mention that there was nothing valuable in this village for him to covet. Even if this village were as rich as a nation, this old fellow wouldn't dare to reach out for anything. To say nothing of the fact that the old shrews in the east and west of the village, while lacking the ability to stir up trouble outside, would throw a fit and resort to all sorts of antics if anyone dared to take even a bit of their trivial possessions. With this old man's frail constitution, those few old women could easily devour him.

However, he knows that for the wealthy elites, officials, and celebrities in the city, 30,000 yuan is roughly equivalent to the cost of a meal. Yet for his impoverished county, 30,000 yuan is an enormous sum that a family of three could not earn in five years. It is not to say that the village head is also an official and that his family might be somewhat better off; that only applies to those villages that have benefited from favorable policies. In this place, the village head still goes to the fields to plant rice at the appointed time. Aside from receiving an additional subsidy of 300 yuan each month, there is truly nothing else to gain. So he genuinely fears that the old man will send Aying to work and marry her off early, which would ruin the little girl.

He spoke with his hair and eyebrows standing on end, his eyes nearly blazing with fire, his expression solemn and grave: "Old man, I have come today to tell you. I, will no longer be a coward. Life and death are in the hands of fate; if necessary, I will go down to accompany you. I, Wang Jian, am but a worthless life."

Soon, lost in thought, Wang Jian arrived outside the house where he had lived since he began keeping records. The front door was tightly locked, and the padlock outside had developed a layer of fine rust. The originally bright red Spring Festival couplets had long since become mottled. The red bricks and green tiles remained the same, yet time is indeed a sharp thing; in just four years, this house had already begun to show signs of decay