Starfall Nine Heavens

Lin Fan completed the discharge procedures. His left shoulder still hurt, but it didn't hinder his movement. He boarded the bus home, and outside the window were the same street scenes he had seen for twenty years, but after what happened last night, the city suddenly felt unfamiliar.

The bus stopped at a chaotic stop in the west of the city. Lin Fan squeezed off the bus, and was immediately hit by the unique smells of the urban village—the fumes from roadside stalls, the damp musty smell, and the fragrance of gardenias wafting from somewhere, all mixed together.

He walked through a narrow alleyway crisscrossed by power lines like a spider web, flanked by densely packed self-built buildings, with vendors' cries rising and falling. This was a crevic in the city, crowded and chaotic, yet possessing a vitality rooted in the earth.

After walking for about ten minutes, he stopped in front of a three-story tenement building where the plaster had peeled off, revealing the red bricks underneath. The iron gate to the stairwell was rusty.

He didn't rush upstairs; he looked up at the rightmost window on the third floor. The curtains were a faded light blue, and the room was bathed in warm yellow light.

That little bit of light seemed to lessen the burdens he had accumulated outside—the pain of his wounds, the confusion surrounding the jade pendant, and the fear of last night.

Lin Fan took a deep breath and pushed open the creaking iron door.

The hallway was dark; the motion-activated lights had long since broken, and the only light came from the cracks in the doors of the apartments on each floor. The walls were covered with posters advertising plumbing and broadband installation. He groped his way up to the third floor and stopped in front of apartment 301. The Spring Festival couplets on the door were from last year, and most of the gold leaf on the two characters for "peace" had already peeled off.

Push the door open and go inside.

The kitchen was filled with the sounds of spatulas clattering, traditional opera playing on the television, and the air thick with the bitter smell of decocted medicine mixed with the aroma of food. The combined smells weren't exactly pleasant, but the tension that had gripped him all the way here instantly eased.

Lin Fan's mother, Chen Xiuzhi, rushed out of the kitchen, a spatula in her hand. She looked Lin Fan up and down, her eyes instantly reddening: "You child...you scared me to death! Where are you hurt? Let me see!"

"It's really nothing, Mom. Look, I'm perfectly fine." Lin Fan spun around on the spot, deliberately moving his arm, but ended up pulling on his wound and wincing. His mother was both distressed and scolded him.

The father, Lin Jianguo, wheeled himself out of the inner room. He didn't speak, his gaze sweeping over his son's face before he simply nodded, his voice deep and heavy: "It's good that you're alright. Take care of yourself while you're out there, then you can have peace of mind at home."

Lin Xiao, the younger sister, rushed over like a cannonball, hugged Lin Fan's waist, buried her face in his clothes, and said in a muffled voice, "Brother, I won't keep asking to go to training classes anymore. Please ride your bike slowly and don't fall."

Lin Fan felt a lump in his throat and ruffled her hair: "Don't talk nonsense, you still have to study. I'm fine."

He took the envelope out of his inner pocket. Instead of handing it all over, he counted out five hundred dollars in front of the whole family, and then put the remaining thick stack of dollars, along with the envelope, into his mother's hand.

"This is..." Chen Xiuzhi was stunned.

"Mom, listen to me first." Lin Fan's tone was calm. He had prepared this explanation on the way. "The place where I delivered food last night had an accident during construction, right? This morning, the person in charge of the engineering company in that area felt bad for me because I'm honest and injured, so he gave me some compensation."

He held up the five hundred yuan: "I'll keep this. The electric scooter needs to be serviced in the next couple of days, and delivering food also costs money. You should buy the medicine you need, and Dad's physiotherapy fees should be paid too."

Chen Xiuzhi clutched the fifteen banknotes, her hand trembling slightly. Looking at the five lonely bills in her son's hand, her heart ached: "Don't suffer out there. Eat something hot whenever you need to."

"I know, Mom."

At dinner, her father said in a relaxed tone, "Your mother specially made braised pork today to help you recover." Lin Xiao immediately cheered, "Long live braised pork!"

The bowl of glistening meat sat in the center of the table, like a small sun. As Lin Fan ate, listening to his sister's chatter and seeing the suppressed worry and the relief squeezed out in his parents' eyes, the lingering pain in his shoulder wound slowly melted away with this warmth.

After a meal, it's the quietest time of day.

Lin Fan fetched hot water, moved a small stool, sat down in front of his father's wheelchair, and began massaging his atrophied legs. He had been doing this for three years, and his technique was even more skilled than that of the janitors at the physiotherapy shop.

He kept his head down, his hands never stopping, and spoke as if in casual conversation:

"Dad, this jade pendant around my neck... when Grandpa passed it down to me, did he mention anything else? Like, is there anything special about it?"

Lin Jianguo gazed out the window at the deep night, his eyes somewhat vacant, as if looking into the distance.

"Your grandfather passed away when I was little. He wasn't a talkative man. Before he died, he called me to his side, took this jade pendant off his neck and put it on me, saying..." He paused, as if recalling that distant, heavy moment, "'Jianguo, this thing isn't worth much, but it's the root of our Lin family's ancestors. As long as the person lives, the jade lives too; if the soul is lost, the body is gone.'"

His voice was a little hoarse.

"Did Grandpa or Great-Grandpa ever say anything special about this jade? For example, which dynasty it came from? Or were there any notable figures in our family history?"

Lin Jianguo was silent for a few seconds, then sighed softly. His sigh carried a weariness that suggested life had worn away all hope.

"If our ancestors had truly produced any remarkable figures, would we have been stuck in this place for generations, living this kind of life?"

He patted his son's shoulder: "Xiaofan, I'm useless. I've dragged you down and this family down. But some things... are hard to explain. This jade is here—" He patted his chest, "No matter how hard things get for our family, it seems like we still have roots, we still have hope. If it's really gone... I'm afraid, I'm afraid our family will really collapse. Keep it with you, just for good luck."

This isn't an explanation; it's the simplest and most stubborn thought born from a man crushed by life, guided by a saying passed down from his father.

Lin Fan stopped the massage.

The jade pendant on his chest seemed to be slightly warm.

He suddenly understood his father's almost stubborn insistence—it wasn't a superstition about the value of the treasure, but rather that he had placed all his hopes for "home" on this tangible object. As long as the jade was there, the family hadn't fallen apart.

"Dad," Lin Fan resumed the massage, his voice steady and strong, "Don't worry. The family won't fall apart, I'm here."

These words were spoken to his father, but also to himself.

Looking at his son's face, Lin Jianguo swallowed back his deeper sigh and forced a smile: "Alright, stop thinking about those things that even the older generation couldn't explain."

"Well, I was just asking." Lin Fan didn't press further.

Back in my cramped cubicle, I closed the door, and the world fell silent.

He sat on the edge of the bed and took the jade pendant from his neck. The lamplight wasn't bright; the jade pendant was warm and silent, its patterns ancient and unadorned, showing no signs of anything unusual.

He recalled the cool breeze from last night, and the "special nature" that Su Wan had mentioned.

"Is it because of you?" he asked in a low voice, as if asking the jade pendant, or perhaps asking himself.

He tried to focus his mind on the jade pendant, recalling the feeling of "communication" from last night—though it felt more like the pendant was giving it to him unilaterally. He held the pendant, silently reciting incantations he'd seen in movies, such as "Open Sesame" and "Hurry, hurry, as the law commands."

Of course, nothing happened. The jade pendant remained as still as an ordinary stone.

Lin Fan chuckled self-deprecatingly, feeling a bit foolish. He got up and sat down at the old folding table that doubled as a desk, and turned on the buzzing old laptop.

After hesitating for a moment in the search box, I typed: "Why does my ancestral jade pendant feel hot and cool?"

The search results were a mixed bag. At the top were a few posts from traditional Chinese medicine practitioners, saying things like "jade can nourish the body, and those with weak constitutions and internal heat can feel coolness when wearing it." Scrolling down, some posts from fantasy novel forums started appearing.

My family heirloom jade suddenly got hot; is it about to claim a new owner? I need help urgently!

Sharing My Experiences in Communicating with My Family's Heirloom (Three-Day Introductory Version)

"A Beginner's Guide to Cultivation: Blood Recognition—Or rather, a Detailed Explanation of the Steps"

He clicked on a few and looked at them. The arguments inside could be summarized into a few categories:

The Mind Communication Method—Calm your mind and focus, repeatedly calling out to someone with your mind. One poster said it took him three months to feel even a "faint emotional response."

The blood test for identification—bite your fingertip, drip blood onto an object, and if the blood is absorbed, the identification is considered successful. Someone then asked, "What if it's not absorbed? Will I get tetanus?"

Incantation techniques – these involve specific, tongue-twisting mantras. Some posts even include complete incantations such as "Nine Heavens Responding to the Origin of Thunder and Universal Transformation Heavenly Venerable".

The energy infusion method requires you to first cultivate your own "true qi" or "spiritual qi," and then slowly infuse it in. The original poster frankly states, "If you haven't yet experienced qi sensation, you can skip this step."

The method of waiting for the right opportunity—this thing is destined for you; when the time is right, its extraordinary nature will naturally manifest. The most liked reply is: "Hearing your words is like hearing a profound truth."

Lin Fan was dazzled by what he saw, and also felt a bit amused and exasperated.

His gaze fell on the "blood oath ceremony." This seemed to be the one with the lowest barrier to entry yet the most direct approach.

After hesitating for a few seconds, he found a safety pin, heated it with a lighter, pricked his fingertip, and dripped a drop of blood onto the surface of the jade pendant.

Blood dripped down. The jade pendant remained as smooth and lustrous as ever.

There was no absorption, no light, and no reaction.

It lay quietly in his palm, like an ordinary stone polished docile by time.

Lin Fan leaned against the wall and let out a long breath.

Was the method wrong? Or was everything last night just a hallucination from a near-death experience?

He put the jade pendant back on, its warm, smooth texture resting against his skin like an eternal, silent mystery.

In the afternoon, he still went to deliver food.

The wound throbbed with pain as he cycled, but he endured it. He needed to earn money and regain a sense of control over his life through familiar work.

Around 6 PM, after delivering a batch of orders during peak hours, Lin Fan felt utterly exhausted. He stopped at a small park by the street and bought the cheapest boxed meal—one meat dish and two vegetable dishes, with the rice packed tightly. He found a quiet bench to sit down.

The park was quiet; a few elderly people were strolling leisurely, and children were playing in the distance. The setting sun bathed everything in a warm golden light.

Lin Fan ate his food, his gaze fixed on the undulating skyline of buildings in the distance.

The fear was real. The shadowy figure last night, the sword in Su Wan's hand, and the calm certainty beneath her words when she mentioned the anomaly—all of these told him that another world existed, and that he had already become involved with it.

Should we back down?

Pretending nothing had happened, continuing to calculate every penny every day, watching her mother's medicine bottle run out, watching her younger sister suppress the longing in her eyes, watching her father silently endure his atrophying legs?

He put the last bite of rice into his mouth and chewed slowly.

Su Wan's words echoed in his ears: "This job is enough to provide you and your family with a stable and decent livelihood."

On one side of the scale lies the known, slowly sinking predicament. On the other side lies the unknown danger, but also the potential opportunity to change everything.

Moreover, only by stepping into that environment can he figure out what is special about him and how he can avoid being a passive ant who can only be beaten and survive by luck in the future—if what happened last night happens again.

He remembered the moment he rushed out and pushed the little girl away. That wasn't bravery; it was instinct. But what's the point of living if you can't even protect the people you cherish?

The sun sank a little deeper, and a magnificent sunset glow ignited on the horizon.

Lin Fan took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Fear wouldn't disappear, but it could be suppressed by something more important.

He pulled the business card from his pocket and took out his phone. The screen lit up in the darkening sky.

He pressed the number, his finger lingering on the dial pad for a second.

Then I pressed it.

The call was quickly connected, and Su Wan's voice came from the other end—cold, always calm and composed.

"Feed".