AGN -Chapter 467 Shengsheng (Part 8)

Under normal circumstances, Qin Huai should have waited until this meal was over, returned to the hotel, used the excuse of going to the restroom, and then sat on the hotel toilet to finish watching the final segment of Zhao Cheng’an’s dream.

But this was not a normal situation.

Because Fenyuan also had a restroom.

And Qin Huai had never experienced the restroom of the legendary number one private restaurant in Beiping before. Missing that would be a real pity.

He didn’t even need Zhang Guanghang to lead the way. The restroom was located just past the private room; Qin Huai had already seen the sign on the wall when he came in.

Qin Huai glanced at Zhao Cheng’an, who was evenly sampling everything—one bite of white steamed bun, one bite of yam cake, one bite of rice cake—and figured Zhao Cheng’an would still be eating for a while. That meant he had time to view the memory first.

Thinking this, he acted immediately.

Qin Huai stood up quietly. “Eat slowly. I’m going to the restroom.”

Zhao Cheng’an didn’t suspect anything. “Mm-mm. Do you know where it is? I think I saw it at the back when I came in.”

“I saw it too. Take your time, don’t choke,” Qin Huai said kindly, then walked straight out.

The restroom wasn’t far from the private room—about fifteen meters away. The decor was decent, blending retro and modern styles, likely a renovated part of the original Fenyuan restroom. It was a single-occupancy toilet.

Qin Huai closed the door, locked it, and opened the game interface, selecting [A Segment of Zhao Cheng’an’s Dream].

Thinking that he was about to see Zhao Cheng’an’s final dream, Qin Huai felt a faint excitement. It had been a long time since he had watched a single spirit’s memory so smoothly and continuously.

He clicked “Yes.”

[Dream loading——]

The night in Beiping a hundred years ago was extremely dark.

“Pitch-black” was not an exaggeration at all. Even if the moon was bright, it could not illuminate human faces in the darkness like daylight. For the common people who suffered from night blindness due to chronic vitamin deficiency, it was difficult to see anything outside even with a lamp at night.

Because candlelight was simply too weak.

Under the faint glow of a candle, Qin Huai could make out the expressions of Chen Qiusheng’s family.

Chen Ping’an held up a lantern, but instead of shining it forward, he lowered it, illuminating Chen Qiusheng’s hands counting money and the small cloth pouch in Zhao Cheng’an’s hands.

It seemed to be summer. Chen Qiusheng, Chen Ping’an, Zhao Cheng’an, and Xia Murui were all wearing short jackets. Xia Murui carried several bundles on his back, looking like he was about to travel far. The other three carried nothing, except Zhao Cheng’an, who held a small pouch resembling an embroidered money bag.

Chen Qiusheng was counting money—a large mixed pile of silver coins, copper coins, broken silver, British pounds, and paper currency, some intact, some damaged. Under the lantern light, he sorted them carefully and stuffed everything into Zhao Cheng’an’s pouch, then asked Xia Murui to take off his shoe and placed the pouch inside its sole.

“The world outside is chaotic now. The border has already fallen, and the south isn’t much safer either. The Li family bought tickets half a month ago and moved to Jinling. The Japanese are almost reaching Langfang—Beiping can’t be stayed in anymore. I don’t know if Jinling is safe, but if even the Li family went there, it must be safer than Beiping right now.”

“Murui, go to Jinling with your Uncle Liu first. Don’t even write back to report safety once you arrive. You’re clever—prioritize your own safety above everything. If Jinling isn’t safe either, then keep heading south. I’ve already given your Uncle Liu some money. Keep the rest with you for emergencies.”

Chen Qiusheng kept talking nonstop, patting Xia Murui’s short jacket worriedly.

“It’s July now. I originally wanted you to bring winter clothes too, but things outside are too chaotic. Too many belongings would attract thieves, so we can’t give you too much. The south is warmer anyway; winter comes later. You can buy cotton clothes after things stabilize.”

“If you run into bandits, don’t be reckless. Staying alive is more important than anything. In times like this… as long as you can live, that’s enough.”

He sounded like a nagging old father, wanting to prepare everything for Xia Murui but unable to let him carry too much.

“Father, it’s almost midnight. Xia Murui needs to leave. Uncle Liu said the convoy won’t wait. If we miss tonight, it’ll be hard to get out of the city,” Chen Ping’an reminded him.

He held the lantern, his face clearly illuminated by the candlelight. He looked pale, lips bloodless, thin and sickly.

This timeline was clearly several years later than before. Chen Ping’an had fully grown into adulthood, but his height hadn’t increased much, showing his continued poor health.

“Right, right,” Chen Qiusheng hurriedly urged Xia Murui. “Go quickly. Don’t miss it.”

Xia Murui hesitated, looking at Chen Qiusheng and then Chen Ping’an.

“Master… let’s go together.”

Chen Qiusheng waved his hand. “Ping’an is not well. He needs medicine every day and can’t endure long travel. If we had bought tickets a month earlier, we could’ve left together. But now it’s too late. Go quickly. Don’t miss the carriage out of the city.”

“Don’t worry,” Zhao Cheng’an said confidently, patting his chest. “Master Chen and Ping’an have me. With my skills, they won’t starve. Even if the Japanese come and loot everything, there’s still a cellar in the Li residence. We’ll hide inside during the day, and at night I’ll go out and steal food. I’ll definitely keep them well-fed and healthy!”

Xia Murui gave a bitter smile, knowing time was running out. After walking a few steps while constantly turning back, he finally waved at them.

“Master, Ping’an, Chen… junior brother, I’m leaving. Take care of yourselves in Beiping and wait for me to come back.”

Then he disappeared into the darkness without looking back, afraid that if he slowed down even a step, he would turn around again.

Zhao Cheng’an was still happily waving. After a few waves, he suddenly reacted and complained loudly: “Hey, why is Xia Murui calling me Junior Brother Chen? I never apprenticed under Master Chen! How did I become his junior brother?”

Chen Qiusheng, still emotional from the farewell, smacked the back of his head in irritation.

“You’re still complaining? It’s good I didn’t take you as a disciple. Your skills are nowhere near Murui’s these past few years—you think about nothing but wages and food all day. If I really took you in, you’d ruin my reputation.”

Zhao Cheng’an cried out in innocence. “Master Chen, isn’t thinking about wages and food the most important thing in life? Those are literally my two main purposes for living.”

Chen Qiusheng was speechless. He shook his head.

“Ping’an, let’s go back. The wind is strong at night. Don’t catch a cold.”

Chen Ping’an smiled helplessly, but that smile quickly turned into self-mockery. His voice grew low and heavy with guilt.

“Father… I’ve held you back.”

“If it weren’t for me, you and A-Sheng could have left, and even traveled with the Jiang family.”

“It’s all because of me that you and A-Sheng stayed in Beiping.”

Chen Qiusheng patted his shoulder gently.

“There’s no such thing as holding someone back. I’m your father. I’m proud that my son worked hard enough to get into university.”

“And I’m already this old—where would I even go? I originally thought of returning to the borderlands in a few years, but now even that’s impossible. I don’t like the south either, so I might as well stay in Beiping.”

“Besides, we’re not some wealthy family. We don’t have much worth stealing. We won’t die that easily.”

“…it’s just that he’s been a burden to A-Sheng, having to stay in Beiping to take care of the two of us.”

Zhao Cheng’an widened his eyes. “How is that a burden? The university just moved away, so Ping’an doesn’t have a university to attend. Once the university moves back, Ping’an will finish his studies and go work in the government. In the future, Ping’an is going to support me for my whole life.”

“Right, Ping’an? You promised me that. Once you graduate and get a government job, you’ll switch to supporting me instead. You can’t go back on your word. I’ve supported you for so many years already!”

Chen Ping’an couldn’t help but smile. “I won’t go back on it. I’ll support you then.”

“Alright, go inside now. A-Sheng, wake up early tomorrow and go queue at the grain store to buy cornmeal and sorghum flour.”

“Can I steal it?”

“Not now. Not the right time yet.”

“Alright then.” Zhao Cheng’an returned to his room in disappointment.

Qin Huai: …

For some reason, even though this should have been a very emotional farewell scene, it somehow felt more like the downfall of a legendary thief who had no chance to show his skills.

The three each returned to their rooms and went to sleep.

When Zhao Cheng’an first came to Chen Qiusheng’s home, he slept in the wood shed. Now he had been upgraded and moved into the former servant’s room. The room had also been improved since then—a woven straw mat on the bed, a cabinet holding a thin blanket and some clothes.

By the wall was a small stool, and on it sat a small oil-paper-wrapped bundle, most likely food.

It was clear Zhao Cheng’an had been living quite well these past years—he even had his own cabinet now.

The moment he returned to his room, Zhao Cheng’an immediately fell asleep, clearly not taking Xia Murui’s departure seriously at all.

The Chen father and son were different. One was worried and frowning, the other drowning in guilt. Neither of them slept at all that night, and both got up the next morning with dark circles under their eyes.

Zhao Cheng’an looked at their faces and was shocked. “Is it really necessary? Xia Murui only left for one night. Do you miss him that much already?”

Chen Qiusheng could no longer endure it and, while cooking porridge, slapped the back of Zhao Cheng’an’s head—his favorite kind of “punishment.”

Breakfast that morning was porridge with cured meat—quite a luxurious meal, clearly not their usual standard. With war approaching, Chen Ping’an’s poor health made it impossible for them to flee, so they had to stay in Beiping.

Chen Qiusheng’s long experience taught him that whatever good food they had now would just be taken later anyway—better to eat it first.

And that was exactly what happened. After breakfast, Chen Ping’an and Zhao Cheng’an even ate a lot of pastries and preserved fruits.

Chen Ping’an’s health was indeed poor; he couldn’t eat much. Only Zhao Cheng’an enjoyed himself thoroughly.

After breakfast and snacks, it was only just dawn. Chen Qiusheng led Zhao Cheng’an to the grain store to queue.

On the way, Qin Huai followed them around and noticed that most of the surrounding households had already fled Beiping. Those who remained were mostly people like Chen Ping’an—those who couldn’t leave due to illness, the elderly, women, children, or impoverished civilians without the means to escape.

The grain store was still open, but the owner had already fled. Only a stubborn and dutiful clerk remained, selling grain mixed with sand, damp, stale, and partially spoiled.

Chen Qiusheng didn’t buy much—there wasn’t much to buy anyway. He got a sack and a half of sorghum flour. Zhao Cheng’an carried one sack, he carried half, and then they went to the pharmacy to collect a two-month supply of medicine for Chen Ping’an before heading back.

Even after returning, there was no rest.

The Chen household had a cellar, though it was quite small.

Chen Qiusheng divided their food in half—one half stored in the cellar of their current home, and the other half placed in the cellar of the Li family’s old residence.

The Li family house was located on a relatively busy street. It had likely been left to them because the Li family, before fleeing, had heard about Chen Ping’an’s condition and knew Chen Qiusheng would remain in Beiping, so they intentionally left behind a relatively safe property.

It had five rooms. The cellar was large enough to hide four or five people, along with enough supplies to sustain them for several months.

Even with such a good house, Chen Qiusheng had no intention of moving in.

In his words, that house was only for emergency refuge. Everyone knew it was empty, and since the Li family had already left Beiping, no one paid attention to it. But if they moved in, it would signal to others that the house was occupied, making it no longer safe. It was better to stay in their old place for now.

Chen Ping’an explained this to Zhao Cheng’an when answering why they wouldn’t move. Qin Huai wasn’t sure whether Zhao Cheng’an understood, but it didn’t seem like he cared much either.

That was understandable. For ordinary people, war meant life-and-death stakes; everything had to be handled with caution. But for spirits, death was merely a simple matter—an unavoidable step in their tribulation.

Looking at Zhao Cheng’an now, he probably hadn’t yet failed his tribulation. At most, he might feel a bit reluctant about death, but not fear or anxiety.

While Chen Qiusheng kept lecturing Zhao Cheng’an—telling him what to watch out for, not to run outside unnecessarily, to keep his voice down, to hide when needed, and if things truly reached the worst point and he had to steal food again, not to steal too much or act too boldly—

Zhao Cheng’an suddenly asked, “Master Chen, what are we having for dinner tonight? There’s still a smoked chicken in the kitchen. Are we eating that tonight?”

He had fully embodied the principle that food comes first above all else.

Chen Qiusheng sighed helplessly. “Fine. We’ll eat smoked chicken.”

“Remember what I said. From tomorrow on, don’t go out if it’s unnecessary. Stay home. If you’re bored, let Ping’an teach you how to write. It’s really unsafe outside right now.”

“I understand, Master Chen.” Zhao Cheng’an nodded, then asked, “Should I also learn Ping’an’s medication? In case we run out and I need to steal more for him?”

Chen Qiusheng: …

“Yes. You should learn that too. I’ll have Ping’an teach you tonight.”