The Self-Cultivation of a Reborn Massage Therapist

Chapter 468 Stream-of-Consciousness Ramblings (You can skip this chapter)

As soon as the courtyard gate opened, a bustling and lively scene outside came into view.

This was exactly what Zhao Xiaochui had expected; the bustling scenes of popular cities like Zibo from his previous life were still vivid in his mind.

Unfortunately, this village is just an ordinary village on the North China Plain. Most of the villages on this land of Yan and Zhao have a kind of rustic simplicity that has been weathered by time, with gray walls and dirt roads, and are hardly associated with the word "beauty".

Tourists, drawn by the influx of online traffic and driven by curiosity, wandered around the village for less than ten minutes before their faces showed obvious disappointment. Dirt roads, old houses, bare tree branches... there was really nothing to photograph.

As a result, a large influx of people quickly surged toward the newly added market.

The volunteers in red vests were busy, maintaining order while helping elderly vendors with their payment QR codes.

Several people wearing jackets and badges stood not far away, watching the bustling crowd and the constant transactions. Although they maintained a restrained expression, the smiles in their eyes were impossible to hide.

Zhao Xiaochui, wearing a hat, did not attract attention. He looked away and felt the old woman's thin but strong hand gripping his arm. He helped her and walked step by step towards the orchard outside the village.

As they walked slowly along the road, well-dressed tourists, chatting and laughing while live-streaming on their phones, passed by them, but no one gave the hunched old man a second glance.

At the market, vendors were busy hawking their wares, volunteers were hurrying to maintain order, and several staff members responsible for on-site coordination were satisfied with counting the flow of people.

Everyone's attention is focused on consumption and traffic.

Zhao Xiaochui walked on...

Along the roadside, several elderly people, wearing old cotton-padded coats and with their hands in their sleeves, basked in the sun, their eyes clouded as they watched the bustling crowd; a middle-aged man sat by the roadside with a numb expression, a tattered woven bag at his feet; in the corner…

These 'useless' people, who neither produce nor consume in a consumer society, seem to be isolated from that bustling atmosphere.

The tourists couldn't see them, nor could the volunteers and staff. If Zhao Xiaochui hadn't been supporting one of them, he probably wouldn't have seen them either.

Zhao Xiaochui suddenly turned his head and asked the little girl:
"I still don't know your name?"

The little girl blushed slightly upon hearing this and answered softly:
"My name is Yuan Helu."

The dew on the rice stalks condenses silently, evaporates silently, and vanishes in the blink of an eye at dawn...

Zhao Xiaochui pursed his lips and nodded seriously: "It's a beautiful name."

Yuan Helu, feeling flustered after being praised, started to take apart her yellowish braids again.

The road to the orchard is quite long.

Yuan Helu's gaze would always unconsciously drift toward the well-dressed tourists.

She wasn't looking at their trendy phones or designer bags, but at their social status.

In her eyes, there was a longing for another kind of life—those tourists talking about changing the future, doing incredibly cool jobs, and living lives that must be exciting and important.

Zhao Xiaochui watched all of this silently without saying a word.

He helped the old man walk step by step, his mind replaying the last deep conversation he had with the fat receptionist on the eve of her departure.

"Little Hammer, with your leisurely pace and scale of development, trouble will definitely come knocking again, not just once or twice, but endlessly."

"According to the Chinese tradition of doing things, with your current power, you will definitely get things resolved every time. Someone will play the good guy for you in front of you, and the troublemakers will be tied up in front of you so you can vent your anger."

“Little Hammer, I can’t teach you how to deal with those troubles that come knocking on your door. It’s not that I don’t know how, it’s just that you’re too special. So special that you always use the ‘show-off’ and ‘face-slapping’ methods that young people like to solve those troubles.”

"You ask me how to solve this once and for all?"

"Impossible, little hammer. Unless you follow their rules, trouble will always come knocking."

"Because what's hidden behind the scenes isn't human at all!"

By this time, the two men had helped the old woman out of the bustling village entrance. Just a step away, it felt like two different worlds. Behind them lay the false prosperity ignited by online trends; in front of them was a dirt road leading to a quiet orchard, and an old woman nearing the end of her life.

How do I make up my mind?
Can they overcome the ethical and moral hurdle?

Before leaving, the portly receptionist left Zhao Xiaochui a room full of books. He noticed that in all new editions of the Xinhua Dictionary from 2004 onwards, the specific example sentence, "Zhang Hua was admitted to Peking University; Li Ping entered a secondary technical school; I work as a sales clerk in a department store, we all have bright futures," had been removed and no longer appeared...

(To avoid censorship, please note that the villains have nothing to do with China.)
"..."

Zhao Xiaochui couldn't figure it out for a moment, and he glanced coldly in the direction of Shijiazhuang.

"Whether you're human or ghost, the one doing the work has to be...a human, right?!"

……

After walking for a long time, the old lady stopped beside a fruit tree that had been battered and bruised by the wind. She leaned on the tree with one hand and bowed her head in silence.

Zhao Xiaochui vaguely sensed that the old lady was actually suppressing her emotions and crying silently.

Not far from the sound of crying was a bustling makeshift market, where laughter and chatter drifted in on the winter wind, making the old woman's silence seem even more desolate.

Zhao Xiaochui just looked at her silently.

Inside the body, heat surged.

However, Zhao Xiaochui did not move.

And so, that night, the old lady passed away peacefully.

Yuan Helu was a little scared and stood helplessly to the side. The other villagers were still busy all night preparing for the makeshift market at dawn, and it was Zhao Xiaochui who closed the old man's eyes.

Wake up.

The makeshift market was still bustling, so Zhao Xiaochui hadn't seen Grandpa Pancake yet.

As Xiaoyan walked out of the room, she handed Zhao Xiaochui an envelope.

"This is what she wrote, explaining how to prepare her body for burial."

Zhao Xiaochui glanced at the little girl, opened the envelope, and read a few lines of words written by the old man with trembling hands.

They're all talking about what clothes they hope to wear after they die.

When the middle-aged and elderly women in the village arrived, Zhao Xiaochui handed them the envelope, made arrangements for the old woman, and saw her off on her final journey.

When Zhao Xiaochui returned to the next room after he had eaten and drunk his fill, the old man was already dressed and lying peacefully on the long table that served as his funeral bed.

Zhao Xiaochui stared at her, then stopped in surprise.

She lay there, slender as a young girl, wearing an old-fashioned cheongsam. The hem of the dress loosely covered her knees, revealing glimpses of a pair of small black elk leather shoes.

Her face was covered by a veil, and if it weren't for the patch of dry, wrinkled skin peeking out between her sleeves and white gloves, Zhao Xiaochui would have thought the old woman was a slender young girl...

……

The old man's granddaughter arrived two days late, having traveled a long distance and walked all the way back from the county town.

Looking at his granddaughter's tired and aged appearance, Zhao Xiaochui sighed deeply.

He accepted the old woman's granddaughter's thanks without asking for any reward, only taking the only old book in the old woman's room.

At this moment, the aura of Shijiazhuang began to move. Under Yuan Helu's reluctant gaze, Zhao Xiaochui mounted his bulky mountain bike and set off.

He stopped only after he reached the village entrance, took out the old book, opened the title page, and a line of elegant handwriting came into view:
The mysterious power of spring and the stars on your forehead
Master of my mind

You, gentle soul! A promise made in this chaotic world.

Give me happiness... (Note)
(End of this chapter)