Cangmang Asks the Way 1: Guardian of the Lamp

At 8:00 AM on May 16th, the preliminary round of the Provincial Games Wushu Sanda Selection Competition began at the Nancheng City Gymnasium.

Cang Xiangyang and Cang Xiaohua sat in the audience, their palms sweating with nervousness.

Cang Tianci stood in the contestants' tunnel, listening to the shouts outside. The Hidden Dragon Technique was struggling to circulate within his body, each breath accompanied by a sharp pain.

In the first preliminary match, his opponent was a athlete from a provincial sports school. Cang Tianci, relying on his "Qi Detection and Opportunity Understanding," won by points after three rounds. As he stepped off the ring, a sharp, burning pain suddenly shot through his dantian, as if someone had twisted it. He paused, grabbed the ropes at the edge of the ring, took a deep breath, and forcefully suppressed the pain. He won. He told himself. It's good that he won.

In the audience, Cang Xiangyang and Cang Xiaohua clapped enthusiastically. Cang Xiangyang even stood up and shouted towards the stage, "Tianci, well done!"

Cang Tianci waved to them with a smile on his face, but only he knew how forced that smile was.

In the second preliminary match, his opponent was last year's third-place finisher. Less than a minute into the game, Cang Tianci realized something was wrong. He tried to activate his "Qi Detection and Timing" technique, but his usually clear perception was now like being through a layer of fog. His opponent's leg trajectory and the timing of his power exertion became blurry and distant.

At the end of the first round, he was forced to the edge of the ring three times, taking a heavy punch to his left rib that burned with pain. He sat in the corner, panting heavily, sweat dripping onto the floor, spreading out in a small patch. He "saw" the lamp in his dantian—the flame was dimmer than in the morning, flickering uncertainly, like a candle in the wind.

In the second round, he gritted his teeth and forcefully activated the Hidden Dragon Technique. That scorching heat was stirred up again, clearing the stagnant meridians and bringing a moment of sickly clarity. He "saw" his opponent's weakness. He pounced, delivering a side kick to his opponent's side, followed by a series of punches.

When the referee blew the whistle, he had won. But when he left the field, his legs were weak. Chen Gang helped him up and whispered, "Tianci, you don't look well." He shook his head and said nothing.

In the audience, Cang Xiangyang jumped up and cheered, while Cang Xiaohua covered her mouth and cried.

The preliminary rounds concluded at 3 PM. Cang Tianci successfully advanced to tomorrow's finals.

In a secluded spot behind the stadium, Cang Tianci leaned against the wall, swallowing back the acid churning in his stomach.

He leaned against the wall, his palm pressed against his dantian. There, the lamp had dimmed to the point of being almost invisible, replaced by a burning, stagnant flame. He remembered his master's words—"The lamp of the heart is like a mirror; when covered in dust, it dims. The fire of the heart is like a furnace; when too bright, it burns." He had been burning for too long.

But tomorrow is the final. He can't stop.

"Tomorrow. Just get through tomorrow," he told himself silently.

Cang Xiangyang rushed backstage and hugged his younger brother tightly: "Tianci, you're amazing!"

Cang Xiaohua stood beside her, wiping away tears of joy.

Cang Tianci was surrounded by them, a smile on his face. But he knew that with each smile, his dantian would ache.

---

In the evening, Cang Xiangyang found a public phone booth and called Cang Lifeng.

"Brother, Tianci made it to the finals!"

On the other end of the phone, Cang Lifeng's voice was tinged with laughter: "Good, good, I knew this kid could do it!"

Cang Xiangyang held the receiver, hesitating for a moment. He remembered Tianci's pale face when he stepped off the stage, and the slight stumble he made as he walked. He opened his mouth, wanting to say, "Brother, Tianci doesn't look well," but the words caught in his throat. He was afraid his brother would worry.

"Brother...what time are you coming tomorrow?"

"Don't worry, I'll go there as soon as I've settled things at the construction site. I'll definitely make it in time."

After hanging up the phone, Cang Lifeng stood on the construction site, looking at the building that was about to be completed, and felt a warm glow in his heart.

He turned around and shouted to his coworkers, "Brothers, my brother Tianci is having his final competition tomorrow. I need to ask for leave to go."

"Wow, Tianci is amazing!"

"Boss, you can't just go by yourself, we have to go too!" Da Zhou shouted.

"Yes, we'll all go!" everyone shouted.

Cang Lifeng said with difficulty, "But the construction site needs someone to look after it."

"Boss, the construction site is almost finished, there's not much to do. How about we all take a day off, and just leave two people to keep an eye on things?" Old Zhang suggested.

Everyone looked at each other.

At this moment, Old Li, who had been silently hiding behind the crowd, stepped forward and said, "I'll stay."

Zhang, who is always enthusiastic, also stood up and said loudly, "I'm willing to stay too! Just take a good look around and take a few more photos to bring back for me to see."

Cang Lifeng stepped forward and patted them on the shoulder warmly: "Thank you for your hard work."

Old Zhang said somewhat apologetically, "Old Li and Young Zhang are much more conscientious. Thank you both!"

Everyone followed suit and expressed their gratitude.

Afterwards, everyone dispersed to prepare for their departure the next day.

Old Zhang pulled out his old Dacron shirt from under his bedding, shook it, and carefully draped it over the bed frame, afraid of wrinkling it.

Da Zhou stood by the tap, shaving his round head until it shone with a basin of cold water, while humming an off-key song.

Old Zhang laughed at him: "You've shaved it so shiny, are you going on a blind date?"

Da Zhou grinned: "Our eldest brother is competing, we have to make him look good!"

……

Cang Lifeng walked up to Old Li and instructed him, "Uncle Li, please keep an eye on the materials delivery tomorrow, especially the batch on the top floor. Make sure nothing goes wrong before the inspection."

"Hmm," Old Li responded, his voice muffled. He lowered his eyes, staring at his toes, not daring to look Cang Lifeng in the eye.

Cang Lifeng raised his hand and patted him on the shoulder. The hand was broad, warm, and carried the rough strength of a construction site worker. Then he withdrew his hand and strode towards his partitioned hut—he wanted to double-check tomorrow's material delivery list before dark.

Old Li stood there, watching that retreating figure. The setting sun bathed him in a warm gold, the light so bright it stung his eyes. He raised his hand, trying to grasp something, but only grasped air. In that air were cement dust, the chill of dusk, and the words stuck in his throat—the words he couldn't utter.

He turned and walked back into the depths of the construction site. The building, nearing completion, stood silently in the twilight. He gazed towards the top floor, where a section of formwork supported the structure. He had checked it that afternoon; it was in good condition. He had seen it with his own hands. But he knew that some things were beyond his control.

---

At night, Wang Lide sat on the edge of the bed, holding his son Nianfeng. The little guy was already asleep, his small body curled up in his arms, breathing evenly.

He stared at that little face for a long time.

He recalled that night more than two weeks ago.

That day, when he went to the company to pick up some documents, he heard a hushed voice coming from Song Jinrong's office as he passed by:

"Jiawen, over at the Canglifeng construction site..."

Upon hearing the name "Cang Lifeng," he immediately stopped and listened intently. Although the voices inside the office grew increasingly faint, making it impossible for him to discern the specifics of their conspiracy, he could still deduce from the intermittent sounds that Boss Song and his cousin, "Fourth Master," were plotting to frame Cang Lifeng.

On one hand, there's his boss, who trusts him and whose interests are deeply intertwined with his own; on the other, there's the benefactor who saved his wife and son. Choosing to repay the debt of gratitude would mean betraying his boss, and could even implicate him. Over the years, he's done so much dirty work for his boss; he can't extricate himself from the situation…

He closed his eyes.

Those dirty jobs, one after another, flashed before my eyes like a revolving lantern.

Falsifying accounts. Tax evasion. Withholding wages. Shady kickbacks. And those complaining workers who were "dealt with"—the severance pay he personally handled was pitifully small; those people knelt at the office door begging for mercy, and it was he who called the security guards to drag them away.

He handled every single one. He was aware of every single one. He never said "no" to any of them.

He thought he was just doing his job. He did what the boss told him to do. The boss said, "That's the rule," so he believed it was the rule.

But now he realizes that those "rules" are ropes that have long since bound him. He can't move. He dares not move. If he moves, those ropes will dig into his flesh and drag him into the abyss.

He recalled that day at Yuebinlou, when Cang Lifeng stood beside him and whispered, "Brother Wang, what goes around comes around. It's never too late to make amends."

"It's never too late to make up for what needs to be made up for."

He murmured to himself, opened his eyes, and looked at Nianfeng in his arms. The little guy was sleeping soundly, his little mouth slightly open, occasionally smacking his lips, as if he were nursing in his dream.

Can you make it?

He wanted to say there was still time. He wanted to say that he would go to Cang Lifeng first thing tomorrow morning and tell him everything he had heard.

But then he remembered Song Jinrong's face. That face was always smiling in front of him, patting him on the shoulder and saying, "Lide, I trust you to handle things." But he knew what lay behind that face. The workers he had "dealt with," the people kneeling at the office door begging for mercy, the names of those who took their severance pay and never dared to return—he remembered every single one of them.

If he tells the truth, all those things will come back to light.

He'll go to jail. Ayun will have to raise the child alone. Nianfeng is only six months old; when he grows up, where will his father be?

He lowered his head and looked at Nianfeng's small face. That face was so clean, as if it knew nothing.

"I'm sorry, Lifeng..."

His voice was very soft, as soft as a sigh.

He gently placed his son in the cradle and walked to the window. Outside, the night view of the southern city stretched out, a tapestry of lights from countless homes.

---

At six o'clock in the morning on May 17th, Lin Wei was awakened from her sleep by the ringing of the telephone. Wearing her pajamas and slippers, she muttered as she walked around, "Who is it, so early..."

She picked up the phone, but before she could speak, Cang Lifeng's slightly nervous voice came from the other end: "Lin Wei, it's me. I'm so sorry to bother you so early."

Upon hearing that it was Cang Lifeng, Lin Wei immediately snapped out of her daze, and the corners of her mouth involuntarily turned up: "Oh, Lifeng, it's nothing, it's nothing. Go ahead."

"It's...it's like this. Yesterday, Grandpa Shen and Master Zhou asked about Tianci's competition. I originally wanted to take a taxi to pick them up, but my coworkers all wanted to go too, so I'm planning to take the bus with them. I was wondering if you could help me pick up Grandpa Shen and Master Zhou. I'll pay for the taxi fare, is that...okay?"

"Yes, of course. They are my elders too, it's only right that I go to pick them up. I'll go and prepare now."

After hanging up the phone, she looked down at her pajamas and suddenly smiled.

He called so early in the morning and was so nervous—it seems he really considers me one of his own.

Cang Lifeng hung up the phone, his heart filled with joy. He stood at the entrance of the construction shed, looking at the building in the distance that was nearing completion. The morning light fell on the building, bathing it in a warm golden glow.

He took a deep breath and murmured, "What a beautiful day!" Then he turned and walked toward his coworkers' quarters.

The workers had already changed into clean clothes, as excited as if it were New Year's Day. Old Zhang put on his polyester shirt, buttoning the collar tightly, and tugging at it every now and then. Da Zhou's bald head gleamed in the morning light as he grinned and talked to someone.

Cang Lifeng looked at them, a warm feeling welling up in his heart. He suddenly remembered Tianci as a child, stumbling and running in the muddy fields of Xiqiao Village, never crying when he fell, but getting up and continuing to run. That stuttering, thin, bullied child would be standing on the provincial-level stage tomorrow.

"Let's go," he said.

Old Li and Little Zhang stood at the door, seeing them off.

Xiao Zhang laughed and shouted, "Boss, take lots of pictures! I want to see how awesome your little brother is!"

"Okay," Cang Lifeng replied with a smile. He walked up to Xiao Zhang, patted him on the shoulder, and said, "Keep a close eye on that batch of materials on the top floor."

"Don't worry, boss, I'll go up and take a look around in a bit," Xiao Zhang patted his chest.

Old Li didn't say anything, he just nodded to Cang Lifeng.

Cang Lifeng walked over and patted him on the shoulder: "Uncle Li, the construction site is now in your hands."

Old Li grunted in agreement.

Cang Lifeng stopped talking, waved to Lao Li and Xiao Zhang, and strode towards the construction site gate.

Old Li stood there, watching Cang Lifeng's retreating figure, watching his group of chatting and laughing coworkers, watching them walk out of the construction site gate and head towards the bus stop. As he watched, he suddenly felt a tightness in his chest, making it hard to breathe. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms, and it hurt.

"Uncle Li? What's wrong?" Xiao Zhang, who was standing next to him, turned his head and asked suddenly.

"It's alright," Old Li said, letting go of her hand. "You go up first, I'll be right back after I have a smoke."

Xiao Zhang responded and carried his tools into the building. Old Li leaned against the doorpost, took out a cigarette, his hands trembling so badly that it took him three tries to light it. He took a deep drag, the smoke billowing from his nostrils, twisting and rising in the morning light, like something dirty trying to squeeze out of his body, but he just couldn't get rid of it.