Chapter 10: Heading North Once More

A family of four adults exchanged glances, stunned—could these really be the words of a human being?

Aunt Liu’s face darkened. What do you mean by “my conduct is questionable”? Why are you watching me so closely? What kind of person do you think I am?

This string of self-questioning made her almost doubt her own existence.

Teacher An stared in disbelief. Should I be grateful to have you as my informant, or should I just give you a good beating to teach you a lesson?

The elderly couple glanced at each other and suddenly lost their anger. A mother with a child—what could she possibly be worried about? Clearly, this child was not one to be easily managed, so they felt even more at ease.

“Liu Jing, do me a favor and study medicine with me,” the old gentleman smiled.

“I’m still young and can’t understand medical books. Let’s talk about it when I’m ready for college,” Liu Jing replied shyly, reluctant to refuse after being shown such respect.

“Ah! It’s good to gain some insight. People need to broaden their horizons,” the old lady sighed, suddenly finding Liu Jing much more agreeable. The child spoke honestly. After arguing with her daughter-in-law for a long time, these were the key points she wanted to say but lacked the courage to voice.

They really had no objections to Liu Jing. The old lady’s discomfort was only in her heart. After all, the couple had adopted a son and obviously had no plans for a biological child anytime soon.

These elderly people had lived through wartime, witnessing life and death, and the plight of the displaced.

Many of their old friends had adopted the children of fallen comrades and treated them as their own.

“You’re right, Grandma,” Liu Jing agreed.

“Right your grandma’s leg,” the old gentleman joked with a laugh. “You can read the Lüshi Chunqiu with such relish, but you tell me you can’t understand medical books?”

The internal discord in the An family temporarily subsided, thanks to Liu Jing’s face-saving words.

A few days later, amid Xixi’s cries, two aunts once again took Liu Jing northward.

On the train, as she listened to her sister’s description, the younger aunt was dumbfounded.

She reached out to rub Liu Jing’s head. “Sis, I really want to open it up and see what’s inside.”

Liu Jing was sound asleep. Besides feeling sleepy when reading, he always fell asleep once the train started moving.

That was Aunt Liu’s summary.

“I have to go to the ‘Three Kingdoms’ crew for some training. You take the wooden statue over there and stay safe. The little one speaks his mind without a filter. Among us, that’s fine, but I’ve heard people from Hong Kong and Taiwan can be petty. He mustn’t offend anyone,” Aunt Liu said with some concern.

At the same time she received the invitation, the younger aunt also got her notice to join the crew.

The film “Martial Champion Beggar Su Qi’er” would feature several children’s roles, and she was told to bring the child in early—no extensions.

“Sis, you’re overthinking. The little one knows what to say and what not to say, and when to say it. Don’t be fooled by his three years; many thirteen-year-old boys aren’t as mature as he is,” the younger aunt said, rubbing Liu Jing’s head again. How did he grow like this? It seemed that cultivating a child’s independence from a young age really paid off.

She recently noticed that the couple were also nurturing their niece’s independence. They used to argue about it all the time, but now their views aligned surprisingly well.

“Ah! Who knows what this child will become when he grows up,” Aunt Liu fretted. She had only decided to adopt because of strange occurrences, but now she realized this child was beyond her control.

“If you’re worried, you can entrust him to me. I’ll take him to America. If he makes something of himself, he’ll repay you,” the younger aunt smiled.

“You’d better let him repay you now,” Aunt Liu said speechlessly. Her sister was becoming more like Liu Jing and starting to speak nonsense.

“Sis, a friend of mine works at a publishing house and wants to start her own business. Since I’m not doing much in America, she wants me to join her. What do you think?” The younger aunt was troubled—this was the issue she would face upon returning to America.

“I don’t know about that. Ask Liu Jing,” Aunt Liu snapped.

“Liu Jing, Liu Jing, wake up,” the younger aunt urged, feeling desperate.

Liu Jing opened his eyes groggily, sensing the train’s rush. “Not at the station yet.”

“You’ve been asleep the whole ride. Are you going to sleep when we get to the hotel?” This time they were in a sleeper car, which was more comfortable.

“No, I’m going to read,” Liu Jing rubbed his eyes. The soft sleeper had only upper and lower berths, with four seats in one compartment.

The other two seats were empty, so it was practically theirs alone.

“Kids with irregular schedules aren’t good for their development,” the younger aunt said with a smile.

“What do you mean?” Liu Jing instantly became alert.

“Literally what I said,” she chuckled. She had long noticed her nephew’s weak spot. Anything detrimental to his development or health was taken very seriously by him.

“All right, all right, stop teasing him,” Aunt Liu groaned. One was in her twenties, the other barely three—how could they be on the same wavelength?

The younger aunt found it amusing too. She really was out of her mind to ask a three-year-old about business.

Since he was awake and they had free time, she went ahead and described the situation.

She was just passing the time—long night, long journey, and she didn’t want to read.

After listening, Liu Jing pondered for a moment and then asked several serious questions.

He inquired about the partners’ backgrounds, the previous state of the publishing house, the current condition of the publishing industry in America, whether the bankruptcy had caused any lasting damage, and how much loss the friend could tolerate.

There were questions even the younger aunt couldn’t answer.

“You can give it a try. You’re free anyway. If you make money, great; if you lose money, even better,” Liu Jing finally said.

“Why? Are you out of your mind?” Aunt Liu frowned.

“If one side’s dark, the other side’s bright. Since those ladies...” Under Aunt Liu’s displeased gaze, Liu Jing quickly corrected himself, “Qiong’s partners are either wealthy businessmen’s mistresses or descendants of high officials. Qiong just treats this as throwing away a few hundred thousand. Losing money might not be a bad thing.”

“Again with Qiong,” the younger aunt laughed with satisfaction. It was worth consulting him—he was truly extraordinary.

“You asked me to,” Liu Jing explained.

“Hey, you brat, asking for a beating. Call me auntie!” The younger aunt put her hands on her hips and mock-threatened him.

But her eyes sparkled with laughter, and her delicate face was like polished jade—who could be frightened by that?

So, the young woman in her twenties and the child just over three enjoyed a delightful conversation.

Why was Liu Jing so unrestrained? When he first entered the An family, he was very cautious, afraid of being discovered for his uniqueness.

Later, through newspapers and television, he realized he was mistaken.

Reading books taught him about the past; newspapers and news showed him the present.

It was somewhat like the Warring States period, a time of a hundred schools of thought contending and flourishing.

When he saw such reports in the paper, even with his memories of a second-generation heir and his entertainment system, he still found it absurd.

In this era of collective imagination, the world was full of all sorts of strange and wonderful things.

As long as you dared to dream, anything could happen.

His little quirks were merely astonishing, hardly miraculous.