Cangmang Asks the Way 1: Guardian of the Lamp

Looking at her husband covered in mud and sweat and with his burning gaze, Su Yumei called out with heartache, "Zhenye, come up and rest. The sun is too strong. We can finish the rest of the work this afternoon. Let's go home and have some water to cool off."

Cang Zhenye shook his head, his gaze returning to the paddy field in front of him, and said, "Only this last corner is left. The seedlings won't survive if they're out of water for too long. Go back and cook dinner. Once I've finished this, I can go back in time to eat, so it won't take much time."

His voice was hoarse from not having drunk water for a long time, but it carried a stubborn resilience like that of the land. For him, completing the work at hand perfectly was a matter of course, and no joy should disrupt the rhythm of this labor.

His father's perseverance struck Cang Tianci's heart like another silent blow. He suddenly realized how superficial his earlier feeling of glory had become "light." His father's greatness lay not in how much hardship he had endured for him, but in the fact that even in the face of this momentous news, he remained true to his covenant with the land and maintained this almost clumsy, silent perseverance.

That movement of bending over became the final straw that broke the camel's back. Cang Tianci suddenly bent down, pulled off his shoes and socks, rolled up his trousers, and stepped barefoot into the warm mud. The mud instantly enveloped his ankles, cool and slippery, yet carrying a strange sense of security. This step seemed to shatter not only the paddy field but also the invisible barrier that separated him from this land and his father's blood and sweat.

"Father, I'll help you." His voice was not loud, but unusually steady, without the slightest hint of his usual hesitancy.

The mud and water instantly enveloped his ankles, a strange yet reassuring sensation spreading from the soles of his feet. He walked to his father's side, and imitating his father, picked up a handful of rice seedlings, clumsily but with utmost seriousness, and began to separate and plant them.

Cang Zhenye turned his head to look at his son. The boy stood tall and straight in the paddy field, his movements clumsy, but his focused expression and his unwavering act of stepping into the mud stirred a barely perceptible ripple in the depths of Cang Zhenye's usually calm eyes—a kind of satisfaction deeper than when he saw the gold medal and the admission notice. He didn't speak, but silently slowed his pace slightly, occasionally gesturing with his eyes to indicate the depth and spacing.

Su Yumei stood on the edge of the paddy field, watching the two figures, one tall and one short, one steady and one young, both bent over, working side by side under the scorching sun. Her eyes welled up again, this time not with elation, but with a deeper emotion, a mixture of heartache, pride, and boundless感慨 (gǎnkǎi, deep feelings). She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, offering no further words of comfort, and turned to walk briskly towards home, her steps lighter and more energetic than before.

With Tianci's help, the remaining corner of the paddy field quickly turned a vibrant green. Father and son walked one after the other along the ridge, washing the mud off their legs and feet in the small irrigation ditch. The cool water washed away the mud, but it couldn't erase the sensation that had seeped into their skin. Looking at his feet, now "clean" again, Cang Tianci suddenly understood: his father's path wasn't on the clean ridge, but in the very mud he had just washed away. Their paths might have started differently, but the resilience that grew from the mud would become the most profound foundation of his future.

Cang Zhenye looked at his son's sunburnt cheeks, said nothing, but simply reached out his rough, large hand and pressed it heavily, but briefly, on Tianci's head. Then he turned around, put his hands behind his back, and walked home with a slightly more relaxed pace than usual.

Back home, Su Yumei had already prepared lunch. It wasn't a fancy meal, but it consisted of Tianci's favorite dishes: a plate of golden scrambled eggs, a dish of glistening cured pork stir-fried with green peppers, and some homemade pickled vegetables. The aroma of these simple dishes mixed with the fragrance of white rice, creating a warm and comforting atmosphere.

At the dinner table, Su Yumei kept putting food on Tianci's plate. Watching Tianci wolf down his food, her face beamed with satisfaction.

During the meal, Tianci asked about his older siblings. Cang Zhenye said, "Your eldest brother is in the south of the city, still working as a contractor. I heard he's taken on a new project; he's busy, but at least he's earning money. Your second brother, Xiangyang, and third sister, Xiaohua, both got factory jobs through your eldest brother's introduction, and they have permanent positions with monthly cash payments. They're all sensible; after receiving their wages, they only keep a small amount for themselves and send the majority home..."

Cang Tianci listened, nodding occasionally in response, his heart filled with longing for his older brothers and sisters.

After Cang Zhenye finished introducing his children, Su Yumei interjected, "By the way, I ran into Xiuzhu's mother this morning and asked about her child. She said Xiuzhu got into the gifted youth program. And that Wang Yaowu..." She paused slightly, glancing cautiously at Tianci, "...I heard he got in too."

Upon hearing Wang Xiuzhu's name, Tianci pictured her delicate face, and he felt happy for her. But when he heard the name "Wang Yaowu," his chopsticks paused only slightly before he continued eating as usual. The surging hatred he had felt seemed to have been soaked and settled by the cool, muddy water from the field, no longer capable of stirring up any major waves. He swallowed the food in his mouth and calmly said, "Yes, I understand."

At this moment, Cang Tianci clearly felt that his world was no longer the small pond of Xiqiao Village. His gaze had turned to the wider world of Jixian Middle School, and the past grievances were nothing more than pebbles that had long been crossed on his path forward. His opponent was never a particular person, but rather his own limitations and the long and arduous path of "seeking the way" to power.

The warm aftertaste of lunch was still lingering in his mouth when Cang Zhenye urged, "Tianci, after you finish eating, go to the old house and tell your grandfather your good news, so he can be happy too."

Tianci responded and got up to go outside. The afternoon sun was even more intense, and the cicadas' chirping grew louder and louder. He hurried to the old house where his grandfather lived.

Grandfather Cang Houde was sitting in the shade inside the threshold of the main room, intently mending an old straw hat by the light streaming in from outside. Hearing footsteps, he slowly raised his head.

"Grandpa," Tianci walked up to him, squatted down, and said softly, "I got first place in the county in my graduation exam and was admitted to the county high school's gifted youth program. I also won a gold medal in the provincial martial arts competition."

Cang Houde stopped mending. He put down the straw hat and bamboo strips, and rubbed his hands, rough as tree bark from years of labor, on his trousers as if to wipe away imaginary dust. Then, he raised his hand and gently stroked Tianci's head.

His hands were warm and heavy, bearing the hardened texture of earth and years. He didn't speak, but instead carefully examined his grandson's face with his cloudy yet still deep eyes, as if to confirm that this was not a dream.

After a long silence, he finally spoke, "Okay."

He paused for a moment, then said emphatically, "Okay!"

When the third "good" came out, his cloudy eyes could no longer hold back his surging emotions. Two streams of hot tears broke through the ravines of time without warning, rolling down his bronze, weathered cheeks and dripping onto the ground, leaving small dark marks.

He didn't wipe away the tears, letting them flow down his cheeks. His large hand continued to gently stroke Tianci's head, the care in his movements as if he were not stroking his grandson's head, but touching a tender seedling that had just broken through the soil, carrying the hopes of the entire family, afraid of being even a little too heavy-handed.

Seeing his grandfather's unprecedented outpouring of emotion, Cang Tianci felt as if an invisible hand had gripped his heart tightly, heavy and aching. He knew all too well how much hardship and humiliation his grandfather had endured in his life, how deeply this silent old man harbored his yearning for the family's rise. These tears contained so much—a lifetime of suffering, suppressed anticipation, and the dawn that had finally broken through… These silent tears were heavier and more deeply etched into Tianci's heart than any cheers or praise.

He reached out and gently grasped his grandfather's calloused hand, nodding firmly. All his unspoken words were condensed into one sentence: "Grandpa, I will be better!"

The grandfather and grandson stayed quietly like that for a while, until their emotions gradually calmed down. Inside the old house, only the afternoon sunlight moved quietly, and the cicadas outside chirped tirelessly, their voices rising higher and higher.