A Leisurely and Extravagant Life - Chapter 4
Chapter 4: Strange Points of Light
If someone had written down those words and asked Luo Tianwang to read them, he probably wouldn’t even recognize half the characters, let alone understand their meaning. Yet the voice seemed to echo straight from the depths of his heart, pouring directly into his mind. He didn’t need to comprehend the literal meaning. Somehow, instinctively, he already knew what to do.
“Wow, so many fireflies!” Luo Tianwang “saw” countless tiny lights flickering in the classroom, flying about like fireflies. They came in many colors—green, blue, yellow, red, and even gold.
The golden ones made Luo Tianwang feel uneasy; their blinding glow seemed as though it might scorch his eyes. The golden lights, too, appeared to dislike him, always avoiding him from afar.
The green lights, on the other hand, were the friendliest, constantly fluttering around him. Yet whenever he tried to catch them, they darted away like mischievous sprites. But when he was about to give up, the lights would suddenly return on their own, landing softly on his skin—some even burrowed into his body.
Near his navel, a small whirlpool began to form. At times, it drew some of the lights inside, though a few would eventually emerge again, carrying with them faint traces of foul energy.
After playing with the lights for a while, Luo Tianwang slipped into a deeper sleep. By the time he woke, the teacher at the podium had already changed—it was now the math teacher, Cheng Yulian.
“One meter equals ten decimeters. One decimeter equals ten centimeters. One centimeter equals ten millimeters. Then how many millimeters are in one meter?”
Noticing that Luo Tianwang had awakened, Cheng Yulian was a little surprised and asked him directly: “Luo Tianwang, since you’re awake, why don’t you answer this question?”
“Teacher, teacher! Tianwang is just a sleeping ghost. How would he know?” Luo Zejun, a classmate from the same village, burst out laughing.
The whole class followed, giggling in chorus.
“Quiet! Luo Tianwang, do you know the answer?” Cheng Yulian pressed.
Tianwang did know. But being mocked by his classmates filled him with anger and shame. His little fists clenched tight, teeth biting his lip. He stood up but refused to say a single word.
Cheng Yulian assumed he didn’t know and sighed softly. “It’s alright if you don’t. Sit down. Review your book when you can.”
She knew of his condition and didn’t scold him. If anything, she pitied the child—so young, yet already stricken with such a strange illness. What kind of future could he possibly have?
After sitting back down, Luo Tianwang flipped open his book and, in one glance, absorbed all the day’s lessons. He was about to continue reading ahead when an overwhelming wave of drowsiness crashed over him. With a loud thud, he collapsed onto the desk and sank back into slumber.
Luo Zejun, seated closest, had been watching him the whole time. The moment Tianwang dozed off, Zejun pointed and shouted: “Look! He’s asleep again! The grownups say he’s haunted by the sleeping ghost!”
“Luo Zejun, enough nonsense!” Cheng Yulian glared at him.
Meanwhile, Tianwang was having a wonderful time in his dream. The countless lights in the sky were like playful sprites, and he treated them all as friends. Even the golden ones, though they shunned him, he still approached with patience, trying to coax them near.
The green lights, in particular, seemed almost clingy now, swarming to his side in great numbers. Tianwang even felt as if each light had its own emotions—joy, anger, jealousy. They competed for his attention, diving in and out of his body as if it were their playground.
What Tianwang didn’t realize was that more lights were entering him than leaving, especially the green ones. Many settled inside, lingering there. This time, instead of falling into deep sleep right away, he remained semi-conscious, playing with the lights for quite a while before finally drifting off. As he slept, a black residue oozed out through his pores, leaving a thin layer across his skin.
But at his age, what child didn’t get dirty from head to toe every day? No one noticed anything unusual.
When he woke again, school had ended. The teachers, wary of his condition, didn’t make him stay behind to clean or do chores. Who knew when he might suddenly fall asleep again?
At the school gate, Luo Baolin arrived on time. Seeing his grandson safe, he finally let out a sigh of relief.
“Tianwang, are you able to keep up in class?” he asked.
Tianwang nodded. “More or less.”
“More or less my foot! He slept through the whole day. The teacher asked him how many millimeters are in a meter, and he just froze up.” Luo Zejun popped up out of nowhere, tattling eagerly.
Baolin frowned, annoyed, but he couldn’t bring himself to quarrel with a child. He asked curtly: “And do you know the answer?”
“Of course I do! One meter equals… uh… a hundred millimeters. No, wait—ten thousand?” Zejun scratched his head, clearly confused.
“You don’t even know yourself, so stop mocking Tianwang! One meter equals a thousand millimeters. One decimeter equals a hundred millimeters, one centimeter equals ten…” A girl stepped forward, glaring at Zejun. She was Luo Jingzhi, another child from their village.
“Smart girl, Jingzhi,” Baolin praised.
“Tianwang, you need to stay strong. Stop falling asleep in class,” Jingzhi urged gently.
But by then, Tianwang had already slumped to the ground, fast asleep once more. With a weary sigh, Baolin lifted his grandson onto his back and trudged home step by step.
The next morning, to everyone’s surprise, Tianwang woke up very early.
“Grandpa, let me take the cattle out to graze today.” Before his condition, tending the cows had been his job, but ever since the accident, he hadn’t done it.
“No. You’ll stay home, eat breakfast, and go to school,” Baolin said firmly, worried he might doze off in the fields.
“Let him go,” Grandma Xiao Chunxiu intervened softly, seeing the longing in the boy’s eyes.
“…Alright then. Come with me,” Baolin relented. “But promise me—if you feel drowsy, tell Grandpa first. Don’t you dare fall asleep and tumble into the fields.”
Carrying a small bamboo basket, Tianwang followed his grandfather to the pastures. While the cows grazed, he also collected pigweed.
Though food was no longer scarce, the villagers of Hemawan still saved their grain for people. Pigs were fed mostly on weeds mixed with bran and leftovers. They grew slowly, but cheaply—after a year, each pig could still reach about two hundred jin.
[ TL: Jin equals 500 grams (0.5 kilograms) or about 1.1 pounds. It is also referred to as a “catty” or “Chinese pound”. ]