HNYWEF -Chapter 182 Nothing Stays the Same

Old Liu walked in front with long strides, the hammer still swinging in his hand.

“This way, this way.”

He turned back and called out, his booming voice loud enough to hurt the ears.

Zhou Xiong followed behind him without speaking.

He walked slowly, his eyes sweeping across the surroundings.

The stockade walls were still there, but lower now.
The training grounds were still there, but vegetables had been planted across them.
The Hall of Brotherhood was still there too, but the roof had been retiled, and several quilts were hanging outside to dry.

He recognized this place, and yet he didn’t.

The people had changed.

Those passing by with hoes over their shoulders, bowls in their hands, children in tow—not a single one was familiar.

Some glanced at them before lowering their heads and returning to their business.
Some looked a little longer, recognized Old Liu, nodded, and moved on.

No one recognized Zhou Xiong.

Zhou Yi followed behind his father, looking around as well.

He couldn’t imagine what this place used to look like. He only thought the village was fairly large, the houses fairly old, and the chickens everywhere.

Li Lizhi walked at the very back, her steps light. She didn’t crane her neck to look around, but she was taking everything in.

When they reached the middle of the寨子, Zhou Xiong suddenly stopped.

Zhou Yi stopped too.

In front of them stood a house.

It was made of packed earth. Most of the plaster had fallen away, exposing the mud bricks underneath, stacked surprisingly neatly.

Several roof tiles were broken. Oilcloth had been patched over the gaps and weighed down with stones.

The windows were shut. The paper covering them was torn, and wind poured through the holes, making something inside rattle dully.

Zhou Xiong stood there, staring at the door.

That door was far too familiar to him.

Not familiar from seeing it, but from walking through it—day after day, in and out, more times than he could count.

Back then, the door had been new.
The paint had been bright.
The threshold hadn’t yet been worn into that shallow groove.

Every day he pushed that door open, and outside was the寨子, the training grounds, and those people who called him “Bear Blind.”

Every day he closed the door, and inside was her.

Zhou Xiong stood there without moving.

His hand hanging at his side twitched once, then stilled again.

He stared at that door for a very long time.

Zhou Yi stood beside him, looking at it too.

He didn’t know who had once lived in this house.

But somehow, he knew.

He couldn’t explain why—he just knew.

It was as if something were seeping out through the cracks in the door, through the gaps in the walls, through the torn window paper, spreading all the way to where he stood and wrapping around him completely.

He couldn’t describe the feeling. It wasn’t cold, and it wasn’t warmth either. It was something else.

Like those times when his father used to sit by the window lost in thought while he stood at the doorway watching him.

That exact feeling.

He turned and glanced at his father.

Zhou Xiong didn’t look at him. He was still staring at the door, but the look in his eyes had changed. It was no longer the blank daze of someone staring too long.

It was something else.

Zhou Yi understood.

He asked nothing. He withdrew his gaze and looked back at the door as well.

Li Lizhi stood behind them, watching the two of them.

No one spoke. No one moved.

She didn’t ask either.

She already understood.

That house was probably the one where Father and Mother had once lived together.

The three of them stood there like wooden stakes.

Old Liu had already gone quite far ahead before realizing no one was following.

He turned around and saw them standing before that house.

His pace slowed.

He stopped where he was and didn’t walk back, only stood there watching from afar.

He didn’t urge them on.

Zhou Xiong moved first.

He withdrew his gaze, turned around, and continued forward at an even pace, walking past the house without looking back.

Zhou Yi followed after him.

After two steps, he couldn’t help turning back for one more look.

The door was still shut.
The window paper was still torn.
The wind was still blowing inside.

He turned back around and caught up with his father.

Li Lizhi walked last.

As she passed in front of the house, her steps paused for just a moment.

Just one moment.

She looked once at the door, then continued forward.

Old Liu stood waiting ahead. Seeing them approach, he asked nothing.

He turned around and continued leading the way, the hammer swaying in his hand.

The four of them walked through the寨子 in a line, one ahead and three behind.

The sun emerged from behind the clouds, shining over the earthen houses, over the ropes strung with drying clothes, and over that closed door.