Chapter 3

From that time on, after my parents decided to invite Widow Zhou to take a look at me, my father often went to Widow Zhou's house, always choosing to go after nine o'clock at night to avoid any gossip.

The countryside had little entertainment, and the sky turned dark early in winter. Widow Zhou's house was at the western end of the village, while ours was at the eastern end. The route to her house involved walking through several narrow and bumpy field paths. Because of the need for caution, my father didn't even dare to use a flashlight, and in the back and forth, he fell many times, but still couldn't persuade Widow Zhou to come.

Was it because his heart wasn't sincere enough? No! Every time my father went, he always brought gifts—rare milk powder, hard candies, and aged cured meat that the family wouldn't even eat themselves. He even promised to give half of the family's grain to her.

But Widow Zhou's response was almost always the same: "Um... Old Chen... um... among neighbors... um... if I can help... um... how could I accept... um... so many things... um... what kind of world is this... um... you know better than I do... um... if something happens to me... um... not just me, but my fatherless... um... child will suffer... um... and I'll burden my in-laws... um... don't make it hard for me... um."

Widow Zhou's response, like her hiccups, made people feel uncomfortable, but what could my father do? He could only keep going.

Eventually, my father's frequent visits raised suspicions among the Zhou family. When Widow Zhou was asked, she explained the situation. First, Old Zhou spoke up: "Old Chen, you're not being fair. Aren't you putting our whole family at risk? Regardless of whether my daughter-in-law can help your child, even if she could, would we dare? Your child's life is important, but aren't ours? Go, go..."

My father didn't give up and kept going. The second time, Zhou Er picked up a hoe and threatened to hit him, and the situation seemed to be at an impasse.

My body remained weak, especially when I cried. The intermittent, choked sobs were like a dirge for our family, casting a shadow of sorrow and gloom over our home.

It was still winter, and the fire in the stove burned brightly, but my family felt no warmth, including my two older sisters, who were very worried. Whenever I cried, they would look at my parents in fear, dreading the sound of my father's heavy sighs and the sight of my mother's sad eyes.

Another sobbing fit began, and this time it seemed particularly severe. My mother, as usual, held me, patting and hugging me, but it didn't help at all.

"Maybe the child is hungry? Give the child some milk? I got some today, and there's still some left. I'll heat it up." When children cry, it's often because they're hungry, a common belief in the countryside. My father, hearing my choked sobs, felt uncomfortable and got up to heat the milk on the stove.

The atmosphere at home became even heavier, with no one speaking except for my sobs and my mother's soft soothing sounds.

Finally, the milk started to boil, breaking the oppressive silence. My father poured the milk into a bowl, cooled it, and put it in a bottle, then handed it to my mother. The whole family looked at the bottle in her hand with hopeful eyes, hoping that drinking the milk would make me feel better, as my cries were truly heart-wrenching.

A minute later, my mother's panicked and sharp voice broke the temporary calm: "Old Chen, Old Chen... look at our youngest, what's wrong with him?"

My mother's lips were trembling, and my father rushed over in a few quick steps. His face turned ashen when he saw that the milk I had just drunk couldn't go down my throat. As soon as it reached my mouth, it was choked out by my coughing. This wasn't just a normal baby's choking; it was as if I couldn't drink at all.

My whole face turned ashen, and the "huffing and puffing" sounds were like those of an old man. This was the most severe condition I had ever been in since birth. Seeing the bulging veins in my small neck, my father was also panicked for the first time.

My mother kept patting me, trying to make me feel better, and my two sisters were so scared that they even shed tears, but they dared not cry out loud to avoid upsetting my parents. My father began to breathe heavily, his eyes red, and those who knew him well knew that he was angry.

Without a word, my father suddenly rushed out of the house, grabbed a kitchen knife from the kitchen, and rushed back, waving it around like a madman.

"Damn it, I, Chen Junhong, have never done anything dishonest in my life. What did you do to my son? If you want to do something, do it to me, not to my child! Damn it, you can do this to a little child? Come out, you bastards, come out, I'll fight you to the death!"

My father's behavior was as if he was possessed, but it was understandable. After the visit to the rural health center, which found nothing, my father didn't give up and took me to several hospitals, including those in the city. The doctors all said I was malnourished, not sick.

If I wasn't sick, especially with respiratory issues, how could this be explained? Not only my parents, but also my two sisters, recalled that my condition was like being choked.

Because of Liu Wen's words, my father had already believed that something was targeting me. Given the current situation, he was convinced that something was indeed harming his son, which was why he acted so crazily that night.

My father's outburst finally scared my two sisters, making the situation at home even worse. At this moment, my mother showed a woman's unique resilience and strength. She was the calmest one.

She gently patted me and grabbed my father's hand, which was still waving the kitchen knife: "Old Chen, we're not just the youngest. If you do this, who will take care of us? Look at how scared your daughters are. Calm down."

My mother's words finally made my father come to his senses, but strangely, his outburst actually improved my condition.

I no longer had difficulty breathing, and the heart-wrenching cries gradually stopped. My face, which had been ashen, returned to its usual pale color. Seeing that I was better, my father finally calmed down completely.

My mother put me to bed, comforted my sisters, and then sent them to their room to sleep.

Back in the house, my mother looked at my father and said very calmly, "Old Chen, I'll go to Widow Zhou tonight."

"Everyone says that ghosts fear the wicked. Xiuyun, I've figured out what's wrong with my son. I agree with you. We'll go tonight. If we wait any longer, I'm afraid we won't be able to save him." My father agreed with my mother.

Since the decision was made, my parents didn't hesitate. They immediately set out with me. Perhaps because of my condition, my father, for the first time, used a flashlight. The safety of his son was more important than being cautious.

In the cold wind, they walked in silence. A route that usually took twenty minutes, they rushed through in ten. I often think that if they hadn't been carrying me, they might have been even faster.

Human potential is limitless. The mystical 'Mountain' meridian is about self-cultivation, which, in simpler terms, is about tapping into one's potential.

When they arrived at the Zhou family's house, it was only around eight or nine o'clock. However, in the countryside, with little entertainment, most families had their doors closed by this time in winter.

The Zhou family's door was also closed. My father didn't say a word, just rushed up and knocked loudly on the door. In the quiet night, the urgent knocking was particularly jarring.

Perhaps because the knocking was too loud and too frequent, soon a voice came from the Zhou family's yard. It was Zhou Er's voice: "Who is it?"

My father didn't speak, nor did he let my mother speak. He just knocked even harder. He was afraid that if Zhou Er recognized our family, he wouldn't open the door. My father's persistence had indeed annoyed the Zhou family.

"Who the hell is it! Say something!" Zhou Er's voice grew louder, clearly angry at this behavior.

My father continued to knock persistently. Zhou Er shouted, "If you don't say anything, I won't open the door!"

My mother, who was getting anxious, whispered, "Old Chen, just say something."

"Saying what? Zhou Er is known for being stubborn. If he knows it's us, he really won't open the door. I'll just keep knocking until he gets annoyed. He'll have to open the door eventually. You know, he's not a coward (or he wouldn't dare to visit the west wing at night)." My father had a bit of a rogue's nature, but it usually didn't show.

Sure enough, as my father predicted, after ten minutes of persistent knocking, Zhou Er angrily opened the door, holding a firewood knife, thinking we were troublemakers.

Seeing Zhou Er open the door, my father rushed in, which surprised Zhou Er. Who was this? Acting like a reckless fool!

"Stop, what are you doing, barging into someone's house like this?" Zhou Er tried to stop my father from entering the yard.

My father reacted quickly, pulling my mother in and then closing the door behind him. Only then did he say, "Zhou Er, it's me, Old Chen."

"You, Old Chen, what are you doing..." Zhou Er relaxed, realizing it wasn't a troublemaker. In those days, who wouldn't be afraid of a group of people suddenly barging in and destroying their home?

But my father's behavior still made Zhou Er both angry and amused, so his tone wasn't very friendly.

"Zhou Er, among neighbors, let's talk inside. You know I, Old Chen, wouldn't force you to do anything. Just let me finish what I have to say. You know, am I not a decent person in the village? Have I ever been disrespectful to you or your family?" My father's words were a mix of softness and firmness, and it was impressive that a rural man could speak so diplomatically, but it was out of necessity.

Given the good relationship and frequent interactions between our families, Zhou Er's expression softened. People in those days were more straightforward, and the phrase "I wouldn't force you to do anything" helped. Zhou Er's expression finally relaxed, and he said, "Come in, I can't do anything about you."

My father breathed a sigh of relief. Zhou Er was the hardest to deal with in the Zhou family, and getting past him meant there was still hope.

Inside, the whole Zhou family was sitting by the fire, with a few sweet potatoes roasting on the stove. It was a cozy scene, with the warm stove and the steaming sweet potatoes...

Old Zhou looked up and saw my father, his expression indifferent, but when he saw my mother holding me, his face softened slightly, though he still sighed.

Widow Zhou wanted to say something but only managed two hiccups before closing her mouth.

Old Zhou, puffing on his pipe, said, "Yueshuang, take Zhou Qiang and Zhou Hongjun to bed."

Yueshuang, Zhou Er's wife, quickly responded and led Zhou Qiang and Zhou Hongjun out. Zhou Qiang was Zhou Da's posthumous son, and Zhou Hongjun was Zhou Er's son. Both were in elementary school.

"No, Grandpa, I want to eat the roasted sweet potatoes before I go to bed," Zhou Qiang insisted.

"Me too," Zhou Hongjun chimed in, following his brother.

Zhou Er glared at them and shouted, "The sweet potatoes won't run away. Go to bed, or you'll get a beating!"

Zhou Er had a lot of authority, and the two children fell silent and obediently followed their mother out.

"Junhong, I know why you're here. I've already said it. Among neighbors, you can't force us." Old Zhou knocked the ashes out of his pipe, speaking calmly, showing no sign of giving in.

This wasn't because they were heartless. Regardless of whether there was any hope, the risk