He fell off a cliff but unexpectedly gained a cultivation inheritance.

At the foot of Mount Hua, the search and rescue team temporarily withdrew, and the scene was properly secured. The news of "Zhang Bufan falling off a cliff and disappearing without a trace" is being quietly transmitted to rural areas in the north, thousands of miles away, through the police's communication efforts. In the northern countryside in May, the sun shines brightly, the wheat ears between the ridges of the fields gleam with a green luster, and the air is filled with the fragrance of the soil.

Zhang Bufan's hometown is deep in this village, a simple brick house with a small yard. In one corner of the yard, a vegetable garden has been cultivated, where cucumbers, tomatoes, green peppers, and other seasonal vegetables are grown. Zhang Bufan's father, Zhang Guoqiang, is sixty-six years old this year. His hair is already graying, and his face is etched with the lines of time. He is squatting in the vegetable garden, holding an old hoe, carefully weeding the cucumber seedlings. Years of working on construction sites have made his back slightly hunched, but he still retains a strong physique. The calluses on his hands are as thick as a hard shell, and his movements with the hoe are steady and powerful.

"Buzz—" The old-fashioned mobile phone in his pocket suddenly vibrated, breaking the tranquility of the courtyard. Zhang Guoqiang straightened up, wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, took out his phone and glanced at the caller ID—it was an unfamiliar landline number, with the location marked "Weinan, Shaanxi".

He frowned slightly, a hint of doubt creeping into his mind. He didn't know anyone in Weinan; who could be calling? Despite his confusion, he pressed the answer button, bringing the phone to his ear, his deep voice slightly hoarse: "Hello, who is this?" A steady male voice came from the other end of the line, his tone somewhat solemn: "Hello, is this Mr. Zhang Guoqiang? We are police officers from the Huayin City Public Security Bureau. Has your son, Zhang Bufan, recently gone on a trip to Mount Hua?"

"Officer?"

Zhang Guoqiang's heart skipped a beat, a sense of foreboding rising within him. The hoe in his hand clattered to the ground. He quickly straightened up, his expression instantly turning serious. "Yes, yes, I'm Zhang Guoqiang. Xiao Fan did go to Mount Hua. Officer, has something happened to him?"

The police officer on the other end of the phone paused for a moment, then softened his tone: "Mr. Zhang, please calm down. We have some bad news to tell you. We hope you're mentally prepared and don't get too agitated." "Calm down? Prepare?" Zhang Guoqiang's heart clenched, his voice trembling. "Officer, just tell me, I can handle it!" "It's like this," the officer's voice carried a hint of regret, "your son, Zhang Bufan, accidentally fell off a cliff while playing on the Huashan Plank Road on the afternoon of May 12th. After receiving the report, we immediately organized a large number of police officers and firefighters to conduct a search and rescue operation. We searched continuously for more than ten hours, including a carpet search on the ground and an aerial search by drone, but so far, we haven't found any trace of Mr. Zhang Bufan..."

"Fell off a cliff...missing..."

These words struck Zhang Guoqiang like a hammer blow, leaving his mind blank. He stood frozen, his ears ringing, not hearing a word the police officer said afterward. His son, a dutiful and filial child, had grown up to attend a prestigious university and established himself in a big city—the pride of his and his wife's entire life. How could he have gone missing after falling off a cliff while hiking? "No…it can't be…" Zhang Guoqiang's lips trembled, tears streaming uncontrollably down his cheeks and dripping into the soil beneath his feet. He wanted to argue, to question whether the police had made a mistake, but his throat felt blocked, and he couldn't utter a sound. A wave of intense grief and dizziness washed over him; his body began to sway violently, his vision blurred, and he was about to collapse to the ground.

"Old man! What's wrong?" Under the eaves at the east end of the courtyard, Zhang Bufan's mother, Xie Fenglian, was sitting on a small stool, wearing her reading glasses and doing handicrafts—mending fabric for a nearby small factory to earn some pocket money to supplement the family income. Hearing the sound of the hoe hitting the ground and seeing her husband's unusual condition, she quickly put down her sewing basket and rushed over, helping the swaying Zhang Guoqiang to his feet. "Quick, sit down and rest!"

Xie Fenglian helped Zhang Guoqiang to a stone bench in the courtyard, gripping his arm tightly with both hands and looking at him anxiously. "What's wrong with you? How did you get like this after just one phone call? Has something serious happened?"

With his wife's help, Zhang Guoqiang sat down and was given a few breaths of cool air before he slowly came to his senses. His chest heaved violently as he gasped for breath. He turned his head and looked into his wife's worried eyes. The grief that had been building up in his heart could no longer be contained, and he burst into tears, his shoulders trembling violently like a helpless child.

This crying tugged at Xie Fenglian's heart. Zhang Guoqiang had always been a strong-willed man, enduring hardship and toil on construction sites year after year. Even when injured or wronged, he had never shed a tear in front of her. Now, for him to cry so heart-wrenchingly meant something terrible must have happened!

"Old man, tell me! What happened? Has something happened to Xiao Fan?" Xie Fenglian's voice began to tremble, and her unease grew stronger. Her biggest worry was her son, who was far away in Pengcheng. His unemployment and divorce in middle age had already caused her a lot of heartache, and if something else happened to him now, she really couldn't bear it.

Zhang Guoqiang cried for a full five or six minutes before gradually stopping, though his shoulders were still trembling slightly. Looking at his wife's pale face, his lips moved, but he swallowed the words back. He knew his wife's health all too well—she suffered from high blood pressure, high cholesterol, and high blood sugar, requiring medication year-round, and easily became dizzy and anxious with even slight emotional excitement. He had almost collapsed when he heard the news; if he told her the truth about the "falling off a cliff and going missing," she would probably faint on the spot, or even worse. "I can't say it, absolutely not now!" Zhang Guoqiang silently resolved, forcibly suppressing his grief, wiping the tears from his face with his sleeve, and said in a hoarse voice, "It's nothing, nothing… Xiao Fan was just slightly injured while climbing the mountain, and the police asked us to come over."

"Injured?" Xie Fenglian's heart sank, her throat tightening, and tears welled up instantly. She gripped Zhang Guoqiang's hand even tighter. "How serious is the injury? Is it life-threatening? My poor son, how could you be so careless..." She sobbed, muttering to herself, her body trembling slightly. Although it was only an "injury," for the police to specifically call the family, it must be quite serious.

"I don't know, we'll find out when we get there." Zhang Guoqiang felt a pang of heartache looking at his wife's grief, but he could only force himself to comfort her, "Don't worry, let's pack our things now and get there as soon as possible. I'll go see if Xiaoshan is home and ask him to come with us. We're two old folks, we won't know anything over there, it'll be more reassuring to have a young man with us."

Zhang Xiaoshan is Zhang Guoqiang's nephew, living less than 200 meters from Zhang Guoqiang's house. He usually has a good relationship with Zhang Bufan and is clever and sensible. At times like this, having a young man running around helping out can definitely save a lot of trouble. Xie Fenglian nodded quickly, "Okay, okay, go and call Xiaoshan, I'll go pack my things right away!" As she spoke, she got up to walk into the house, her steps a little unsteady.

"Slow down, don't rush." ​​Zhang Guoqiang quickly helped her up, giving her a word of advice. Then, he took a deep breath, suppressing the grief and panic in his heart, and stood up to walk towards the door. The sun was still shining brightly, but his heart was ice-cold, and his steps felt as heavy as lead. He didn't know if he would be able to see his son one last time on his way to Mount Hua; he didn't know how he would continue to maintain the lie of being "injured."