RYEY – Chapter 233 28 Rosewood Boxes

Cheng Qiao helped little Cheng Li put on a cotton jacket and stepped out of the space. She then laid a mat on the floor, guiding little Cheng Li to kneel in front of the urn and bow respectfully.

“Mom’s grandfather.”

Little Cheng Li pointed at the photo on the urn, speaking clearly.

Cheng Qiao’s heart leapt with joy—he could talk now.

“That’s right, Mom’s grandfather.”

“Like…”

“Of course. Your mom’s blood runs in my body too, carrying his genes. If I didn’t resemble him at all, that would be strange.”

“I look like Mom.”

“Mm.”

Cheng Qiao took out a hot water bottle and placed it in little Cheng Li’s arms. Mother and child quietly sat in the dim room, talking.

Once little Cheng Li fell asleep, she quickly put him back in the space, replaced the incense, and continued keeping watch. As dawn broke, Zhao Hui stepped out.

“Uncle, I’ll nap for a bit. Call me when it’s time.”

Zhao Hui nodded. Cheng Qiao walked toward the master bedroom. The door wasn’t locked; a gentle push opened it. Inside, the room was astonishingly large—and chillingly cold.

Cheng Qiao turned to close the door and entered the space. Little Cheng Li looked at her expectantly. She smiled, hurriedly changed his diaper, fed him breakfast, and played with him for a while. The little guy soon fell asleep again.

Exiting the space, Cheng Qiao finally took in the room properly. There was a “ba bu” bed made of rosewood—a two-piece bed, extremely valuable.

The room also contained a full set of luxurious rosewood furniture. Opening the wardrobe, she saw Zhao Min’s qipaos and Western dresses from her youth, intricately embroidered and imported.

Thinking of the basement, Cheng Qiao turned to the adjacent small room. It was about twenty square meters, furnished with a bed and a cabinet, but there was no basement entrance.

Cheng Qiao, inspired, reached out and stored the bed in the space. She carefully examined each tile but found nothing unusual, so she stored the tiles as well.

A flat copper ring appeared before her, with a keyhole in front. A brass key appeared in her hand, which she inserted and turned twice—the copper ring stood upright.

Hooking her fingers around it, she lifted with effort. A large panel rose, revealing a staircase. She immediately took out a flashlight and descended.

Seven steps led to a locked door. Cheng Qiao used the brass key again to unlock it. Pushing it open, darkness enveloped her.

Using the flashlight, she noticed a cord on the wall. Pulling it did nothing—the light didn’t come on. Sighing, she slowly illuminated the room with the flashlight.

The basement was small, about five or six square meters. Except for a central passage, the sides were stacked with boxes.

Cheng Qiao held the flashlight high and counted slowly: one, two, fifteen, sixteen, twenty… twenty-eight. There were twenty-eight rosewood boxes.

Worried Zhao Hui might come looking, she manually transported all twenty-eight boxes into her space. After double-checking, she locked the door and returned to the bedroom.

She retrieved the tiles and restored the bed. Once everything was back in place, Cheng Qiao lay down on the dusty bed. This was where her mother had slept; she wanted to rest here too.

“Cheng Qiao, Liang Qingya is here. Come eat breakfast. After that, we’ll go for the burial.”

“All right, I’m coming.”

Cheng Qiao glanced at her wristwatch. So much time had passed—over an hour—she quickly got up, dusted herself off, and opened the door.

Liang Qingya had brought an overwhelming breakfast: soy milk and fried dough sticks, meat-stuffed sesame buns, pancakes, sweet buns, meat and vegetable buns, soup dumplings…

“Did you move the entire state-run hotel’s breakfast here?”

“There are three of us—no, four, including the late master. He loved meat-stuffed sesame buns the most. I’ll light an incense for him and bring a plate over.”

An hour later, the three of them arrived at the back mountain of the capital, where the matriarch of the Zhao family—Zhao Hui’s mother—was buried. Now they were bringing the old master to join her.

After a simple yet solemn burial, Liang Qingya took them to the train station. Zhao Hui wanted to return quickly, worried about his wife and child. Cheng Qiao had no choice but to accompany him; it was too dangerous for a woman to travel alone.

“Brother, Cheng Qiao, eat these on the way. And Cheng Qiao, don’t forget to write me.”

Cheng Qiao accepted the bag of food, smiling and nodding. For this devoted fan of her mother, she treated him like a true uncle.

They took the soft sleeper train back. Once it started, Cheng Qiao went to the restroom, locked the door, and entered the space. Little Cheng Li looked up at her with teary eyes, melting her heart.

“Sweetie, I’m sorry. Today Grandpa’s being buried, so I can’t come in to play with you. And Uncle is outside—I can’t just take you out.”

Little Cheng Li was upset. Though he understood, being alone was really boring.

“Mommy will take you to the backyard. There’s a new tree spirit there.”

Little Cheng Li’s eyes lit up. Besides Xiao Hongtou and Hai Dongqing, there was now another tree spirit. No wonder Mom hadn’t allowed him to go—she probably didn’t want the spirit to harm him.

The Qilin Resurrection Tree had been thriving these past few days. This place’s air and nutrients were far better than the Qilian Mountains, so the tree was covered in dense new shoots.

Cheng Qiao immediately recognized the shoots—they were Qilin Resurrection Grass.

She dashed over, introduced little Cheng Li to the tree, and began harvesting the tender shoots.

The tree’s qilin head lowered, regarding the little child disdainfully, then lifted and ignored him.

Little Cheng Li, sensing the tree’s aloofness, huffed in frustration and went to play with Hai Dongqing and Xiao Hongtou. The tree became angry seeing the little guy enjoying himself with the animals.

After collecting the shoots, Cheng Qiao hurried to the pharmacy room, tossing all the ingredients needed for the Resurrection Pill into drawers. She then returned to her seat outside the space.

Zhao Hui smiled faintly. On the train, she was probably at it again, playing some new trick. He had once seen her appear and disappear in an instant.

He knew this niece had a secret—a massive, world-shaking secret. How wonderful that fate still favored the Zhao family. Now the question was: should he try to uncover the secret?