Cangmang Asks the Way 1: Guardian of the Lamp

On the first day of the Lunar New Year, in Xiqiao Village, the snow reflected the thin sunlight, and the air was filled with the chilly smell of firecracker smoke mixed with cooking smoke. Cang Zhenye's family trudged through the frozen snow, heading towards their low, dilapidated ancestral house at the east end of the village.

Pushing open the wooden door of the old house, a wave of warmth rushed in. Inside the main room, the charcoal brazier burned dimly, its flames dancing on the faded New Year pictures on the wall. Grandfather Cang Houde, wrapped in a heavy old cotton-padded coat, was curled up in a worn rattan chair in the center of the room, like a stone statue weathered by time and settling into the dust. Hearing the door open, his withered fingers, resting on a thin blanket, twitched almost imperceptibly, but his eyes remained half-closed, as if the noise of the outside world could only brush past the surface of this stone statue, unable to penetrate its core.

Cang Shou was hunched over, intently poking at the embers with fire tongs. The firelight illuminated his profile, revealing that the former drunkenness and dejection on his face had faded, replaced by a faint glow.

"Father!" Cang Zhenye led his family in and called out loudly, "Happy New Year! Wishing you good health and a long and happy life!"

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a flurry of footsteps sounded outside the door. The eldest son, Cang Jianguo, and his family, along with Cang Yuanzhi and his wife, who were using crutches, rushed in one after another. The small main room instantly became lively.

The rules for New Year's greetings must not be broken. The eldest son, Cang Jianguo, and his family were the first to step forward. Cang Xiaoren and Chen Xianfei, with their two children, spread an old burlap sack on the ground in front of Cang Houde. The four of them knelt down and kowtowed, chanting, "Grandpa, Happy New Year! May your happiness be as vast as the Eastern Sea and your longevity as enduring as the Southern Mountains!" Cang Houde made a muffled "hmm" sound, his withered hands trembling as he pulled two thin red paper packets from his pocket and handed them to his two great-grandchildren. The children happily accepted them and eagerly opened them—still two brand-new, yet glaringly obvious, one-yuan bills.

Consort Chen's smile froze instantly. Her gaze was fixed on the ground as she muttered softly, "Is this how you treat beggars?" Cang Xiaoren, kneeling beside her, heard this clearly. Her hands clenched tightly in her sleeves, her nails digging into her palms.

Cang Xiaoren lowered his head, staring at the old burlap sack on the ground. He remembered ten years ago, the year Liu Qing was admitted to Yenching University. His grandfather took out the Tang Dynasty bronze mirror engraved with "Top Scholar" from the iron box and handed it to her in front of the whole family. His grandfather said, "You are the golden phoenix that has flown out of the Cang family." His grandfather also gave her a thousand yuan. A thousand yuan—what a huge sum of money that was back then! Why would his grandfather give such a good thing and so much money to a granddaughter who didn't have Cang family blood? And he, the eldest grandson of the Cang family, had never even received a word of praise.

However, for some reason, his grandfather possessed an imposing aura that commanded respect without anger, making him不敢犯犯 (dare not offend). He slowly stood up and said in a low voice to Consort Chen beside him, "Too little? It's good enough that you have some."

Cang Jianguo did not miss his son and daughter-in-law's behavior. His face was extremely ugly, his lips moved a few times, but he did not say anything in the end. He just sighed heavily and retreated dejectedly into the shadows by the wall.

He remembered the bronze mirror from ten years ago, and how his father, Cang Houde, had handed it to Liu Qing in front of the whole family. He was the eldest son. Xiaoren was the eldest grandson. But in his father's eyes, there was only that promising stepdaughter.

He glanced up at his father, only to see Cang Houde's gaze slowly sweeping over everyone, his eyes filled with unfathomable weariness and an almost compassionate insight, as if he had already seen through the predicament and wretchedness of everyone in this scene. This gaze made Cang Jianguo's heart tremble, and he lowered his head.

Watching this scene, and then looking at his father's calm, expressionless face, Cang Zhenye felt a heavy weight in his heart. He knew better than anyone how heavy that one yuan of his father's was. It was money his father had earned at the age of 83, struggling to collect cow dung and work as a bamboo weaver. Some people, all they see is big money.

It was Cang Yuanzhi's turn. Liu Wenxiu carefully supported him, trying to help him kneel down on his good leg. Cang Yuanzhi stubbornly waved his hand, handed his cane to his wife, took a deep breath, and, supporting himself with only one leg and his hands, in an almost tragic gesture, forcefully knelt down on one knee and bowed deeply to his father. The dull thud of his forehead hitting the ground sent shivers down one's spine. He raised his head, his voice booming: "Father, your son wishes you a Happy New Year! May you grow ever stronger!"

Cang Houde's cloudy eyes seemed to open a little, looking at his disabled but determined son, and he made another "hmm" sound in his throat as a response.

With Liu Wenxiu's help, Cang Yuanzhi struggled to his feet. He didn't immediately step back, but instead looked around at the relatives crowded in the main room and announced with barely suppressed pride, "Father, eldest brother, third brother, fourth brother, while everyone is here, I have some good news to tell you. My Liu Qing, on the third day of the Lunar New Year, has come back to Xiqiao Village with her husband Qin Hao and my grandson Siyuan to celebrate the New Year."

"Is Liu Qing coming back?"

"Really? With your child and son-in-law?"

"Oh my, this is wonderful news!"

The brief awkwardness in the main room was instantly dispelled by overwhelming joy. Cang Liuqing, the "golden phoenix" that had flown out of the Cang family, a law doctorate from Peking University, was a source of pride for the entire Cang family and even Xiqiao Village, a talent rarely seen in decades. Her imminent return was like a ray of bright light, suddenly illuminating the dark corners of this dilapidated old house. Even Cang Houde, curled up in the rattan chair, seemed to slightly jerk upwards, his previously stiff body emitting a clearer "ho" sound from his throat, as if a pent-up frustration of many years had finally found an outlet.

Consort Chen's smile froze on her face. She glanced quickly at Cang Xiaoren, who was staring at the ground with his head down, his expression unreadable.

Her hands clenched tightly inside her sleeves. Liu Qing, it was Liu Qing again. That stepdaughter surnamed Liu, although she had added the surname Cang before it, it didn't change the fact that she was of Liu family blood from the neighboring village.

This outsider stole the bronze mirror that rightfully belonged to her son, and now he wants to come back and show it off.

She thought bitterly to herself, but what came out of her mouth was, "That's great. Sister Liu Qing is back, I have to take a good look at her." Her voice was sickeningly sweet.

She was pleased with her disguise, unaware that her excessive pretense could not escape the eyes of some people with ulterior motives.

Cang Houde witnessed all of this. Although he was old and somewhat frail, his mind remained clear. He knew the character of each of his children and grandchildren, and he sensed the resentment his eldest son's family held towards him, as well as the reason for their resentment.

He could have resolved this grievance, but he didn't want to, nor could he. He had kept this secret for over forty years, carried this injustice for over forty years, so what was this little grudge? His cloudy old eyes swept over his children and grandchildren once more, then looked at the old house that held the secrets of the Cang family for over forty years. He sighed softly and slowly closed his eyes.

Cang Jianguo, who was nearby, heard his father's sigh. His heart skipped a beat, and he forced a smile, saying, "It's so difficult for Liu Qing to come back!"

Cang Shouzheng stopped adding firewood, looked up at his second brother, and forced a smile onto his usually wooden face. The smile seemed somewhat unfocused, and his gaze involuntarily drifted to his eldest son, Yongqiang, a strong but somewhat dull-witted man beside him. A bitter feeling, difficult to describe, quietly swept through his heart. However, thinking of his youngest son, Xiangrong, in the army, he felt a little relieved.

Cang Lifeng stood beside his father, saying nothing, but his brows furrowed almost imperceptibly.

Cang Xiangyang and Cang Xiaohua seemed not to have seen that scene, their faces showing no expression.

Standing behind his parents, Cang Tianci clearly felt an invisible undercurrent surging in the air. He looked at his grandfather, who sat in a wicker chair with his eyes slightly closed, like a silent mountain. That mountain seemed to hold endless secrets.

He then looked at his second uncle, Cang Yuanzhi, whose weathered face now radiated a light he had never seen before. That light stemmed from a father's deepest pride.

Sister Liu Qing is coming back. He'd heard his mother say that the year Sister Liu Qing got into university, his grandfather rewarded her with a thousand yuan and gave her a Tang Dynasty bronze mirror engraved with "Top Scholar." It was an heirloom from their ancestors. His mother spoke of it calmly, as if recounting something from long ago. But he could tell that for many people, that incident had never truly passed.

He saw his elder brother, Xiaoren, fold the one-yuan coin and put it into his pocket when he stood up. He also saw his sister-in-law clench her fist when she said with a smile, "When Sister Liuqing comes back, we must take a good look at her."

He suddenly remembered what his mother had said: "Your grandfather wasn't biased; everyone has their own scales. He felt that Liu Qing was the hope of the Cang family, and that thousand yuan was a toll to help her fly higher. But your eldest brother and sister-in-law only felt that it was what they deserved."

A scale can weigh things, but it can't measure people's hearts.

Cang Shouzheng and his family stepped forward to offer New Year's greetings. He, along with his wife Wang Guixiang and eldest son Cang Yongqiang, knelt down and kowtowed with utmost solemnity. Cang Shouzheng had shed his former decadence and alcoholism; his hands, once calloused and with dirt embedded in his fingernails, now rested firmly on the ground, supporting his body to complete each bow. The sound of his kowtowing was deep and real, as if carrying a silent repentance.

Finally, it was the Cang Zhenye family's turn. Su Yumei, Cang Lifeng, Cang Xiangyang, Cang Xiaohua, and Cang Tianci—six members of the family—knelt down in unison before Cang Houde. Cang Zhenye led the way, his voice carrying the simplicity and sincerity of a mountain man: "Father, your family kowtows to you! We wish you good health and a long and happy life!" Six heads kowtowed deeply. Cang Houde's cloudy gaze swept over the family, finally settling on the youngest, Cang Tianci. He took out another red envelope from his pocket and handed it to Cang Tianci. It still contained a thin one-yuan bill.

"Thank you... thank you, Grandpa!" Cang Tianci accepted the light yet heavy red envelope and kowtowed again. He kept his head down, his fingertips feeling the rough paper of the envelope, a pang of sadness in his heart. His grandfather's stubbornness and poverty, like this old house, were etched into the very bones of time. This one yuan was all he could give.

After leaving the old house, Cang Zhenye led his family to their neighbor, Grandma Liu's house next door. Grandma Liu is ninety years old and has two daughters who are married and live in other places, rarely returning home once or twice a year.

Pushing open the slightly ajar door, a heavy sense of loneliness and coldness washed over me. The room was simply furnished. Grandma Liu sat alone on a wooden chair, warming herself by a small charcoal brazier. The dim fire illuminated her face, which was covered with deep wrinkles like a dried walnut. Hearing the noise, she slowly raised her head, her face initially blank. But when she recognized Cang Zhenye's family, her withered lips managed a feeble upward twitch, revealing a faint smile, and she uttered a muffled "Oh...oh..."

"Grandma Liu, Happy New Year! Wishing you a happy new year and good health!" Cang Zhenye and Su Yumei, along with the children, respectfully bowed to the elderly woman to wish her a Happy New Year.

Su Yumei untied the blue cloth bundle, inside which were several pieces of homemade, still warm, snow-white tofu.

"Grandma Liu, I brought you some freshly made tofu. It's still warm, please have a taste." She carefully placed the tofu on a fairly clean small table.

Grandma Liu's cloudy eyes stared at the few pieces of tender white tofu, then slowly moved to Su Yumei and Cang Zhenye's faces. Her lips trembled, as if she wanted to say something, but in the end, she only stretched out her withered hand and tremblingly patted Su Yumei's hand, then patted Cang Zhenye's arm. A very faint glimmer of tears seemed to flash in her cloudy eyes. She made a muffled "Oh...good...good boy..." sound again in her throat, her dry hand tightly gripping Su Yumei's hand, not letting go for a long time.

Cang Tianci stood behind his parents, silently watching this scene. The afterglow of the setting sun slanted in through the dusty little window, casting long, narrow shadows on the cold ground. The father's steady silhouette as he bent over, the mother's gentle movements as she handed over the tofu, and the dependence in Grandma Liu's withered hands as she clenched her fists—all these intertwined and blended in that light and shadow.

He looked at the dying embers in the brazier, and then remembered the flickering fire in the old house. A home, a fire. Some felt the fire wasn't strong enough, some felt it was off-center, some just wanted to be closer to it. And what would the flame ignited in his chest by his elder brother have to burn to, so that it could illuminate his own path and also share some light and warmth with those shivering in the cold night?

He touched his chest. There lay the amulet Lin Wanqing had given him, and a still-beating, warm heart. He wondered if Lin Wanqing was sitting by a warm charcoal fire, if someone had brought her a piece of hot tofu, or…