LAVW – Chapter 135

Shi Qian was strolling along the rice paddies in Hainan. The tall experimental rice concealed his body, leaving only his head visible—along with Peanut, who was sprawled lazily on top of his head.

The once skin-and-bones, pitiful little kitten had now become a super-senior old cat.

Slightly chubby in build.

But Shi Qian didn’t think she weighed much at all—he only felt something soft and fluffy on his head.

Just how old was this senior cat? So old that the former mouse-catching ace could no longer catch the rats that damaged crops, and she couldn’t even keep up with patrols anymore. Today, seeing Shi Qian heading out, Mimi started meowing and pretending to get bumped.

Shi Qian tried to walk more steadily, but felt that the lump on his head hadn’t moved much at all. He stopped short.

“Moo?”

Peanut, you didn’t fall asleep, did you?

Perhaps thanks to the bit of spiritual energy Shi Qian had infused while visiting, his communication with Peanut was far smoother than with other animals.

“Mimi~”

Almost—if you walk any slower, I’ll fall asleep.

Shi Qian said sternly, in Chen Niu’s tone, “Moo.”

Peanut, I have to tell you—you’re an old cat now.

Peanut softly patted the bull’s head with her paw pads. “Mi~”

You’re really bad at talking. Who did you learn that from?

Shi Qian: “Moo.”

Chen Niu.

“Mimi?”

Who’s Chen Niu?

Being able to ask that meant Peanut really was old.

The elderly forget things—people do, and cats too.

Shi Qian: “Moo.”

Peanut, you’ve gotten a bit heavier.

“Mimi—”

I’m not fat.

Peanut stood up with dignity and stretched lazily.

As if confirming her waistline, the very next moment the cat flopped back down again.

After spending half a month at this final stop, with the New Year approaching, Shi Qian—who had been roaming outside for too long—had to pack up and head home.

When they parted, Peanut lay in Expert Yuan’s arms and lazily bid farewell to her old friend.

“Mimi~”

Next time you come, remember to catch fish for me.

Shi Qian: …

Little sister, I’m a cow, you know.

But considering she was a cat girl—and he got to cuddle her—Shi Qian was willing to indulge Peanut.

“Moo.”

Alright, alright. Next time for sure.

After the two animals finished saying goodbye, Wang Anlei reluctantly let go of his teacher and turned to start the car.

Once the car was backed into position, Shi Qian climbed into the back, and they set off.

Along the way, they came across a river. Shi Qian kicked the board at the back, making a sound.

Clang, clang, clang—

Three clear knocks—Shi Qian’s signal to stop.

Wang Anlei quickly pulled over, lifted the rear curtain, and asked, “Qian Niuhua, what’s wrong?”

Shi Qian pointed his head toward the river. “Moo.”

There’s a river.

Wang Anlei looked at it. “What are you planning to do? Go down and take a bath?”

Shi Qian walked toward the back, making his determination clear—he was going.

Usually, when Shi Qian did this, it meant something was up.

Wang Anlei shook his head with a laugh. “Let me see what you’re up to this time.”

He got out, opened the rear door, and let Shi Qian down. His car had been modified—the lower half of the door was thickened and reinforced, and could be lowered to serve as a temporary ramp.

Shi Qian climbed down and walked to the riverbank.

Wang Anlei only saw him dipping his head here and probing there in the water. Before long, Shi Qian came back with a big fish in his mouth.

But that wasn’t strange at all. Over the past six months of traveling together, there had been times when they had no food—those times, the cow handled the ingredients and Wang Anlei did the cooking. He was long used to it.

As for Shi Qian, he had become quite adept at another way of using spiritual power.

Shi Qian brought the first fish over to Wang Anlei. “Moo.”

Tool-man Wang Anlei hurriedly packed it away and laughed. “What got into you, catching fish all of a sudden? Catch the fatty ones—I like the fatty ones.”

Several more followed, and Shi Qian even caught two plumper fish specifically for Wang Anlei.

After hauling in the fish, Shi Qian directed Wang Anlei to drive back.

Seeing how close the big yellow bull was with that cat, Wang Anlei had an epiphany. “So it’s for your cat friend. I’m just the bonus.”

“But this way I can go back and mooch another meal from my teacher—still a win.”

One man and one cow, two bachelors, headed back the way they came.

Expert Yuan and the cat had just seen them off and never would have imagined that the two would come right back.

Shi Qian carried the bag of fish in his mouth and dropped it in front of Peanut and Expert Yuan.

Peanut’s eyes went wide. “Mi!”

Such big fish! And so many!

Shi Qian: “Moo.”

Am I impressive?

The old kitty ambled over slowly, rubbing against his very impressive cow friend, mewing coquettishly.

Professor Yuan laughed. “Then stay a bit longer—have a fish feast, drink some fish soup.”

So the man and the cow mooched another meal, ate and drank their fill, and set off home again, satisfied.

After getting home, Wang Anlei still had other matters to deal with. He dropped Shi Qian and the luggage off, and then both the car and the man sped away again in a flurry.

Shi Qian dragged his luggage to the front door and rang the doorbell.

After it rang a few times with no answer, Shi Qian thought no one was home. Just as he was about to head to the medical school’s teaching building to begin his “search for Nanyin” journey, the door opened from inside, revealing Chen Niu’s much more weathered face.

Shi Qian was shocked. “Moo?”

Chen Niu, how did you get old all of a sudden?

To show concern, Shi Qian even leaned in closer to check, making sure Chen Niu wasn’t ill or having some other problem.

Chen Niu reached out and patted his cow head. “I’m fine—just a bit tired.”

After that, with mixed feelings, Chen Niu asked, “You’re running around outside all day. How come you never get tired?”

Shi Qian stuck out a hoof and drew the character “王” (Wang).

“Moo moo moo.”

Tagging along with old man Wang Anlei—that’s leisure and entertainment. How could it possibly be tiring?

Seeing the “王,” Chen Niu understood at once.

With Wang Anlei on the trip, how could Qian Niuhua possibly get tired?

But… could it be that even Wang Anlei was in such good shape—no altitude sickness at all?

Chen Niu probed, “Old Wang’s not young anymore. How was it going up high? No problems?”

“Moo.”

He was timid—didn’t dare go up.

It was hard to express, so Shi Qian wrote it out with his hoof.

“Then how were your photos taken?”

“Moo.”

—There were plenty of people.

Shi Qian felt Chen Niu wasn’t very sharp today, asking one silly question after another.

He leaned in again, eyes full of concern. “Moo?”

What’s wrong with you? Are you feeling unwell anywhere?

Chen Niu patted his head again. “Really, I’m fine. It was just the last stop—the snow mountains. I was busy till the end and got altitude sickness. Once I came back down, it was better. I’m perfectly fine now. Don’t worry.”

Shi Qian looked at him and murmured softly, “Moo.”

Don’t let your brain freeze.

Chen Niu had already sized Qian Niuhua up several times, and confirmed even more firmly—“Qian Niuhua, you’re as sturdy as a cow.”

Shi Qian thought: Oh no.

Looks like his brain really did freeze.

Shi Qian sighed helplessly. “Moo.”

I am a cow.

Chen Niu noticed something off about his gaze, but only smiled. He tidied up Shi Qian’s things and went back to what he’d been working on.

Shi Qian followed behind and saw Chen Niu rummaging through stacks of photos, taking them out and flipping through them.

There were many photos of Shi Qian, and many family photos as well—witnesses to the years passing, memories growing year by year.

Besides the albums, there were also record books made by Lin Nanyin.

In the past few years, she’d been busy with work and sometimes couldn’t participate much in Chen Niu and Shi Qian’s daily life. In her spare moments, she would use extra prints and newspaper clippings to fill in the times she’d missed.

When Chen Niu found something interesting, he would pick up the camera and take another photo of the picture-and-clipping arrangement.

Shi Qian grew curious. “Moo.”

What have you been photographing these past six months? Tell me.

Chen Niu watched his busy hooves and shook his head. “I’m not showing you. I already said it’s a memoir for old age—at least wait until you’re old to see it.”

The one to reach old age first would probably be him, right?—the thought flashed through Chen Niu’s mind.

Then he thought of how human lifespans had grown longer, and gained a bit more confidence. He should be able to live to that time. At the very least, he could live not too much shorter than Qian Niuhua.

Shi Qian was speechless. “Moo.”

The one who complained about me being old back then… wasn’t that you, Chen someone?

For the sake of his curiosity, Shi Qian made a fuss at Chen Niu for quite a while, but in the end, he still didn’t get to see anything. After a few more days, Shi Qian almost forgot about it.

If he wouldn’t show it, then fine—so be it. In the end, Shi Qian would see it anyway.

But Chen Niu kept photographing. He’d found a new hobby, fallen in love with recording life, and learned to enjoy it—becoming more mature and still full of motivation to learn new things, at a time when most people were already considered past their prime.

When Shi Qian was forty, Lin Nanyin won the most prestigious international award, several years earlier than in the original world.

After that, people began to bid farewell to many elders.

Wang Anlei, Wang Si’an… both big and little Wang left this world earlier, along with many people Shi Qian, Chen Niu, and Lin Nanyin had known—friends, colleagues, even family.

Yet even surrounded by death, the small family was not plunged into deep desolation.

Death had gradually become something that could be accepted—even if it was sad.

More important was living well, day by day, for those still alive.

Later on, Shi Qian and Chen Niu watched together as Lin Nanyin closed her eyes.

Chen Niu fell gravely ill. The collapse of the stable triangle was a blow too heavy for him to bear—he lost the love of his life.

Shi Qian tried many ways to help. He tried to squeeze onto the same bed with Chen Niu—one hoof up, and just as he tried to lift the second, the bed began to wobble; he tried coaxing Chen Niu with food, but Chen Niu had no appetite, and even competing with him for food didn’t make it taste good; Shi Qian even pretended to be sick to trick Chen Niu—only to be seen through at a glance…

As time passed, Chen Niu finally gathered his spirits and began sorting through Lin Nanyin’s materials and records.

With his frail, aged body, using skills learned late in life, he persisted in filming a biography for his beloved.

No one understood Lin Nanyin better than he did. The deep perspective and the love poured into it made the biography an unprecedented success.

For a long time, white chrysanthemums of remembrance surrounded her gravestone in dense layers.

Shi Qian once felt immense pressure—if he ended up walking behind, he wouldn’t be able to film Chen Niu.

When he brought this up, old man Chen Niu laughed heartily, revealing the gaps in his teeth.

“No need. What’s the point of you living that long? Live to the very end, and there’ll be no one left to take care of you,” Chen Niu said. “When you go, I’ll film you too.”

An aged Shi Qian looked at him. “Moo.”

But haven’t you already been filming for so many years?

Their tacit understanding meant that Shi Qian didn’t even need to write—Chen Niu could read it straight from Qian Niuhua’s eyes.

Chen Niu replied, “It’s not finished yet. In today’s terms, ‘to be continued’ isn’t very nice.”

Shi Qian shook his head at him. “Moo.”

Then you might be disappointed.

Chen Niu never imagined that in the end, it would be a marathon between him and Qian Niuhua.

But as the years went by—when Shi Qian’s age drew nationwide attention, and later even global attention—Chen Niu had already foreseen the outcome.

At the final moment of his life, lying on the hospital bed, about to close his eyes, a single word slipped from his lips.

“Cow.”

Softly—like he was calling his cow, and also like he was saying: Qian Niuhua, you’re amazing. In the end, I still didn’t outlive you.

Shi Qian pressed his face against his. “Moo.”

Don’t worry about me—I’m experienced at being a ghost.