Traveling Through Those Years Of Farming (Quick Transmigration) - Chapter 23

Jikong always believes that Jixing will come for him within a year or two. But ten years pass, and Jixing never appears—not even a shadow of him.

Perhaps he has already shown up, only to assess the gap in strength between himself and the three of them before ultimately choosing to hide and train in secret.

Jikong finds this scenario highly likely. But precisely because of that, he can’t afford to leave. He knows that given Jixing’s vengeful nature, sooner or later, he will return for revenge.

“Master, I’m back!”

Chunming returns home from outside. A decade hasn’t left too many traces on him—aside from getting taller and filling out from his once-thin teenage frame. His eyes remain clear, untouched by worldly concerns.

What starts as simply sitting in classes turns into full-time schooling. No one knows how the old monk manages it, but he transfers Chunming’s household registration to Xiaoyanggang. Since Chunming’s educational foundation is weak, he starts from third grade. As an overage student, he ends up in the same class as Baobao—from elementary school to junior high, and even in the same school after the liberal arts and science division in high school.

Surrounded by classmates four or five years younger than him, Chunming gradually becomes more lively.

He still keeps his head shaved, remains a vegetarian, and wakes up early every morning to recite scriptures—but he no longer looks like a monk.

In just seven days, the college entrance exam will begin. After that and the summer break, they will leave for college. The old monk feels a mix of emotions—reluctance, like a young eagle about to leave the nest, but even more so, joy.

Over the years, though he has outwardly raised Chunming as a disciple, in truth, he has come to love him like a grandson. He harbors his own worldly hopes for the boy.

Rather than saying the divination shows Chunming has no affinity with Buddhism, it would be more accurate to say that the old monk has wished for him to have other choices. He wants Chunming’s life to be fulfilling.

“Hmm,” the old monk responds simply.

Without disturbing his master’s chanting, Chunming sets down his schoolbag and heads straight to the kitchen to prepare dinner for the two of them.

Dinner is simple: a bowl of green vegetable and tofu soup, and a plate of stir-fried yam with goji berries and black fungus. After cooking, Chunming sets aside a portion of the stir-fried yam and brings it next door to the Hua family.

Compared to him, a strict vegetarian, the Hua family is practically a pack of carnivores. Every meal is filled with fish and meat, with barely a vegetable in sight—unless it’s boiled alongside the meat.

Especially now, with Baobao preparing for the college entrance exam, Aunt Hua and Uncle Sheng go all out. They plan different meals every day, even sourcing fresh seafood that is rare in their area. In just a couple of months, Baobao noticeably fills out.

Walking over with the dish, Chunming chuckles to himself.

Honestly, chubby Baobao is kind of cute too.

“Chunming, you’re here! Take a bag of apples home with you. These are Pink Fuji apples from Dongshan—big, crisp, and sweet. They’re completely different from our local apples,” Hua Yingpo says generously.

She always takes good care of her own people. Every time Chunming comes over with food, she never lets him leave empty-handed.

A few days ago, she helped Mr. Zhang, a fruit merchant, deal with a bound spirit in Xindian. Out of gratitude, he sent her a batch of top-quality fruits.

In recent years, Hua Yingpo and her husband take on fewer jobs, but whenever they do, it’s always big business. They don’t rely on Baobao all the time—most of the time, the couple works with Hua Xiaolian instead.

After all, if they send Hua Xiaolian in, chances are high that things will be resolved without issue.

Their skills also improve with time. During their research, they discover that the Bagua mirror and peachwood sword left by the old Taoist priest are genuine treasures. In hindsight, perhaps the reason their past scams occasionally worked is because these items had real power.

When she first realizes this, Hua Yingpo is upset for days. She always thought of the money they donated as ill-gotten gains, only to find out much of it was earned legitimately—albeit unintentionally.

But what’s done is done. The donations are long gone, and the whole family has enjoyed ten years of good health. She decides to see it as a blessing for their good deeds and let it go.

“Thank you, Auntie Hua. I’ll head back now. I’ll come by at the usual time tomorrow to pick up Baobao for school,” Chunming says politely, taking the bag of apples.

Glancing inside the open living room, he sees Baobao holding a pork elbow in her left hand while waving at him absentmindedly with her right.

Ten years have passed, yet the round-faced girl still has her baby fat. Fortunately, Baobao has a small frame and a petite face—even if she’s a little chubby, she just looks adorably plump.

Chunming can’t help but laugh again before leaving, feeling content.

“Chunming is a good kid—steady and filial,” Sheng Wukun remarks, placing the vegetarian dish in the middle of the table, surrounded by an array of meat dishes. Their diet suddenly looks a lot more balanced.

After living next door for ten years, he and Hua Yingpo have developed a strong fondness for Chunming.

“Isn’t that the truth? Just the fact that he’s stuck to vegetarianism for over ten years amazes me,” Hua Yingpo agrees.

As she speaks, she places a generous portion of Dongpo pork into Baobao’s bowl, then grabs a pork elbow for herself and her husband.

Meat is delicious—greasy, fragrant, and seafood is fresh and sweet. As long as they can afford it, Hua Yingpo sees no reason to live without fish and meat.

“Mom, I can’t eat anymore! I’ve gained weight recently,” Baobao protests. Baobao finishes a large pork elbow and then sips her soup with dignity, trying to suck in her belly. She raises her chin slightly and says, “I’m so pitiful in this life. I’ll get fat if I eat too much! I’ll really get fat!”

She thinks of her double chin, which has become more noticeable recently, and reluctantly pulls her gaze away from the soft, glistening pieces of Dongpo pork in her bowl.

“Where’s the fat?” Hua Yingpo scolds her. “Look at how thin you are. I’m worried a gust of wind will blow you away.”

“Your mother’s right. Our Baobao is very slim. Look at how late you stay up studying every night. How can you keep up if you don’t eat something good? After all, we can always eat some vegetables after the meat,” Sheng Wukun adds, placing another large piece of fish belly into his daughter’s bowl.

In a father’s eyes, Baobao’s arms are as thin as bamboo poles, not fat at all.

“Okay,” Baobao concedes.

Her willpower is weak, and as soon as she hears her parents say she’s thin, she dives into the rich food on the table without a shred of guilt.

After finishing her meal and preparing for a bath, she touches her soft, white belly and absentmindedly scratches her double chin. It feels quite nice, but then it hits her—she’s really getting fat.

With a sad sigh, Baobao acknowledges that her parents are right. Now, she needs to replenish her nutrients for the upcoming exams. But after the college entrance examination, she’ll start losing weight.

Baobao clenches her fists, motivating herself.

This is a familiar pattern—she has done the same thing before moving up from elementary to middle school, and then from middle school to high school. In short, losing weight is always something she will start in the future.

“Did you read the latest issue of Story Club? Oh my god, the story about the earthbound spirit almost scares me to death.”

“No, I’m working on test papers until after 1 a.m. last night. My eyes are nearly closed from exhaustion. How could I have the energy to read Story Club? But I do buy the latest issue. I’m planning to save it for after the college entrance exam.”

In the senior classroom at the county’s No. 1 Middle School, students filter in one by one. The classroom is filled with chatter—some talking about homework, others discussing all sorts of topics.

“Are you talking about the horror column in Story Club? Oh my god, I can’t read it again after the first time. The story about the spirit behind the bed scares me so much. For a while, I have to poke under the bed with a broomstick before going to sleep, just in case there’s something dirty hiding under it.”

A girl joins the conversation. “Since then, I’ve had a psychological scar from horror stories. Now every time I turn a page, I close my eyes and skip over that column. Their illustrations are so creepy. You’re really brave.”

“There’s a ghost behind the bed! That story is amazing. The author, Zhonghualang, is also the one who writes the earthbound spirit story I mentioned earlier. He’s incredibly talented. I don’t know where he gets his ideas from, but his ghost stories feel so real—it’s like you’re right there with the characters.”

Chunming places his schoolbag on his desk, not paying much attention to the conversation between his deskmate and the girl in front of him.

When he arrives at school, he runs into his class teacher, who asks about his ideal university. Chunming is momentarily unsure.

Both he and Baobao rank high in their class, but Baobao is a homebody. She has already decided to apply to the provincial university, located in the nearby city. It only takes about four hours by long-distance bus, and it is a national key university with some top-ranked majors that are on par with other famous universities.

But Chunming hasn’t made up his mind yet.

For a long time, he has thought Harbin Buddhist University is where he should go. But now, just before the college entrance exam, he finds himself hesitating.

Chunming is distracted for most of the day, lost in thought.

On the day of the college entrance exam, Jikong and Hua Yingpo stand outside the exam center, watching as the students enter the building.

Before parting ways, Jikong straightens Chunming’s collar. The child who used to be as tall as his thigh is now a full head taller than him. Jikong even has to tiptoe slightly to pat his shoulder.

“Chunming, don’t hold back. Do what you want to do.”

The old monk’s smile is warm and wise, as if he has seen through everything. Chunming suddenly feels a sense of clarity.