AGN -Chapter 227 Parental Affection (Final)

Qu Jing carried her schoolbag and set off for school.

Her bag was handmade by the hunter using floral cloth—something unique across all nearby villages. Normally, such cloth was only worn by girls when they got married, but he had turned it into a small bag for her books.

Anyone who saw it would say: even though Qu Jing had a strange illness and couldn’t grow, the hunter truly loved his granddaughter.

Qu Jing didn’t go straight to school. Instead, she went to the village chief’s house to find Gou Dan.

A few years ago, Gou Dan was just a child drooling over sweet potatoes. Now, he had grown to about the same size as Qu Jing.

Seeing her, he ran out happily. “Qu Jing, are you waiting to go to school together?”

Many children who had once been persuaded to attend school had already dropped out. Some were too old—like the chief’s eldest daughter, who started at thirteen, learned basic literacy and math, then married.

Others couldn’t afford tuition or needed labor at home. Some studied one year and skipped the next.

Now, only Qu Jing and Gou Dan had steadily reached fourth grade and were about to attend middle school in town.

“I’m not going today,” Qu Jing said. “Please ask Teacher Li for leave. I need to see the village chief.”

She handed him an egg. “Eat.”

Gou Dan was overjoyed and shouted, “Grandpa! Qu Jing is here!”

The village chief came out holding a bowl.

“Jingjing, is Old Qu taking you to the provincial hospital again? I’ve asked around—there are trucks going to the city now. Faster than before!”

Qu Jing shook her head. “Not me.”

The chief grew anxious. “Your grandfather? Did he hurt his leg? I’ll call people immediately—this can’t wait!”

“Not that,” she said quickly. “I think Grandpa’s memory has been getting worse.”

The chief relaxed. “That’s normal. He’s over fifty—people forget things at that age.”

“But… he forgets recent things,” she insisted.

The chief didn’t fully understand, but reassured her anyway. “Your grandfather’s been injured many times hunting. He’s just aging. You’re a good child—take care of him and don’t let him go up the mountain too much.”

“Can this be treated in a hospital?” she asked.

“It’s not an illness,” the chief laughed. “Old people get confused. As long as they eat and are cared for, it’s fine.”

Qu Jing didn’t give up.

She borrowed a ride to town on credit and went to the clinic. The doctor also found nothing wrong, simply saying aging causes forgetfulness. As usual, he gave her soybeans.

She paid the fare with the beans.

After returning, she began closely watching her grandfather.

Whenever he went hunting, she skipped school and followed him.

He had truly grown old.

Four years ago, he could detect the slightest movement in the forest. Now, she followed him like a shadow—and he never noticed.

His condition worsened quickly.

He began forgetting recent events first.

When he mentioned Teacher Wang—who had long left—and asked her to give him a rabbit, she didn’t correct him.

When he forgot making her the floral schoolbag, she quietly hid it.

When he forgot she was already in fourth grade, she put away her textbooks.

Eventually, he forgot the village even had a school. He thought it was years ago and searched for glutinous rice to learn making rice cakes.

Qu Jing took a long leave from school to stay home and care for him.

Villagers all knew he had become senile. They sighed—though Qu Jing couldn’t grow, she was a truly filial granddaughter.

But his memory loss wasn’t constant.

Sometimes he would remember again—then feel deep regret and guilt.

Qin Huai watched quietly, knowing the inevitable end.

One winter morning, Qu Jing was cooking when the hunter approached the kitchen, confused.

“Girl… why are you in my house?”

Her hand froze. She forced a smile. “I’m your granddaughter.”

“Granddaughter?” he murmured, confused.

“You’re sick,” she said gently. “Eat first. You might remember afterward.”

He accepted it and went back inside.

After he left, she closed the kitchen door.

She took a wild chicken, chopped off a leg, minced the meat—

Then suddenly, she rolled up her sleeve and cut a piece of flesh from her own arm.

Blood dripped onto the minced meat.

To stop the bleeding, she pressed a burning stick against the wound. She didn’t cry out.

Then she calmly continued cooking.

As if she had prepared for this moment long ago.

At the table, even though he didn’t recognize her, he pushed the meat soup toward her.

“You eat too.”

“This is for you,” she smiled.

He ate slowly.

Halfway through, he suddenly froze.

“Jingjing… I’m sorry. Grandpa forgot you.”

“You’re just sick,” she said gently.

“I heard a remedy… eating the meat of a mythical bird can cure forgetfulness.”

He chuckled weakly. “That’s just stories.”

“Maybe,” she said. “But I’ll try.”

From then on, every nine days, she made him meat soup.

Each time, she cut flesh from her own body.

Her movements became practiced.

Her wounds healed quickly—but never fast enough.

She avoided her right arm so he wouldn’t notice. Avoided her legs so she could still walk.

Her left arm became covered in horrifying scars.

All winter, his condition stayed stable.

When spring came, he said happily: “Jingjing, go back to school. Study well. Go to middle school, then high school… maybe even university.”

“I’ll save money and take you to Beijing for treatment.”

She hesitated.

“I don’t feel at ease leaving you alone.”

“It’s fine,” he said. “Just teach me the soup recipe.”

She said nothing.

One rainy day, she was preparing the soup again.

The hunter woke and went to the kitchen.

The door was locked—but slightly ajar.

Through the crack, he saw everything.

Her bleeding arm. The carved flesh. The scars.

Her calmly burning the wound shut.

He stood frozen, tears streaming down.

Silently, he mouthed:

“So this is how my illness was cured…”

“I bring misfortune to everyone… even my granddaughter…”

He walked back to his room like a ghost.

The next day, he told her to buy glutinous rice to make rice cakes.

She left for town.

When she returned, the house was empty.

She found a note:

Jingjing,
Grandpa doesn’t want to harm you anymore.
You are a good child. I’m glad to be your grandfather.
I can’t take you to Beijing. The money is in the box.
Go study. Live well.

She ran into the mountains searching.

For three days.

She found nothing.

When she returned, the chief told her: “Someone saw him go into the mountains… old hunters know where the bears live.”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

Qu Jing nodded and walked inside.

Qin Huai knew—

Her tribulation had failed.

And he left the memory.