The ancient return was exposed by his sister's live stream.

"Girls, be careful and board the boat slowly," the old man said to the group after securing the boat, offering a thoughtful reminder.

Chen Siyao was the first to jump on. The boat rocked, and she cried out "Ouch!" before Chen Hao caught her from behind.

Yang Wanqing carefully led Li Li onto the boat, and Cai Jingwen boarded last, sitting next to Chen Siyao. Chen Hao sat at the stern, next to the old man.

Henyue was held in Yang Wanqing's arms. She peered at the water and reached out her paw to try and scoop up the raindrops in the water, but Yang Wanqing pushed her back down.

The old man poled the boat, and it slowly moved away from the shore toward the center of the river.

The rain fell in a fine, dense drizzle, and a thin mist rose from the river. The old houses on both banks appeared and disappeared in the mist, their white walls and black tiles like a stroke of ink spreading out in a traditional Chinese painting.

There was a small boat moored under the bridge. There was no one on board, only a few ducks swimming around the boat.

Chen Siyao held up her phone, the camera slowly panning across both sides of the strait. In the live stream, the chat slowed down—not because no one was talking, but because everyone was watching.

[I am Ying Zheng: I was wrong. I used to think that only scenery abroad was truly beautiful.]

[Macroeconomics: The beauty of China is so vast that one could never see it all in a lifetime.]

[Dreamy: This is the real Jiangnan. Not just in photos, it's alive.]

[Love to travel: Raindrops, mist, old houses, and covered boats. This is the "small bridges, flowing water, and rural homes" from textbooks.]

The old man poled the boat slowly; with a gentle nudge of the bamboo pole into the water, the boat would glide forward a short distance. He wasn't in a hurry, and neither were the passengers.

Cai Jingwen grew up in Suzhou, but this was her first time rowing a boat on such a drizzly day. She calmed down and drifted on the river, looking at the hazy beauty in front of her.

Listening to the sound of raindrops falling, my heart is filled with tenderness, and I can't help but softly recite: "White egrets fly before Xisai Mountain, peach blossoms float on flowing water, and mandarin fish are plump. Wearing a green bamboo hat and a green raincoat, I don't need to go home in the slanting wind and fine rain."

Her voice was very soft, as if afraid of disturbing the rain. When she read the last sentence, her gaze unconsciously fell on the straw raincoat and bamboo hat of the old man punting the boat at the stern, the bamboo pole lightly touching the ground.

Then the focus shifted to Chen Hao, who sat at the stern, quietly watching the two banks.

Chen Siyao's camera just happened to be focused on this scene.

Yang Wanqing leaned close to Chen Siyao's ear and whispered, "When Sister Jingwen was reciting the poem just now, she kept looking at your brother."

Chen Siyao didn't say anything, but simply held the camera steady, capturing this moment.

Moonhound lay on Yang Wanqing's lap, quietly watching the water. Raindrops fell on its nose, and it sneezed slightly.

Rumble—Just as everyone was completely immersed in the beautiful scenery and enjoying this rare tranquility, a sudden rumble came from upstream!

A muffled sound came from afar, like thunder, but deeper and more muffled, as if it were surging up from underground.

The girls all looked up at the same time. Chen Siyao looked in the direction of the sound. The water upstream had changed.

The once calm river surface began to churn, as if something was stirring beneath the surface. The sound of the water grew louder and louder, transforming from a distant muffled thud into a nearby roar.

"That is..." Yang Wanqing stood up, the boat rocked slightly, and she quickly grabbed the gunwale.

flood.

At the bend in the river upstream, a wall of murky yellow water was surging towards us. It wasn't rising slowly; it was crashing down like a giant beast with its mouth agape, sweeping up trees, rocks, and debris along the way.

"Ah—! Flash flood!" Chen Siyao screamed.

Both banks are lined with high stone railings, and the boat is in the middle of the river, at least five or six meters from the shore. Above the railings is a vertical wall, with nowhere to grab onto.

In the live stream:

[I am Ying Zheng: Holy crap! A flash flood!]

[Yaoyao's Little Red Riding Hood: Hurry, get ashore! Hurry!]

[Dongmen Chuixue: It's over, the banks are so high, there's no way we can climb up.]

[Marry a dog, follow the dog: The boat is in the middle of the river, the flash flood has reached the bend, and it will arrive soon.]

The old man's face turned pale. He struggled desperately to push the bamboo pole downstream, but the current had already begun to push the boat away. He gritted his teeth, and the veins on his hands bulged.

"This little river hasn't had a flash flood in decades!" His voice trembled. "The highest water level has only risen by a dozen centimeters! What happened today..."

Chen Siyao turned to look at Chen Hao. He sat at the stern, looking upstream, his gaze piercing through the rain, his eyes deep and unfathomable, as if they could penetrate the murky floodwaters and reach into the distance. His expression remained unchanged, but his eyes narrowed slightly.

The old man poled the boat to a spot where the railing was lower, panting heavily: "Young man, this is the lowest point around here, you can get up. You're strong, pull the girls up first."

Chen Siyao glanced at the railing; it was indeed lower than the others, but still at least two meters above the water. With her brother's skills, jumping up wouldn't be difficult, but would he have enough time to pull them all up one by one?

She glanced back upstream—the wall of water was getting closer and closer, its roar hurting her ears.

"Uncle!" she said, turning to the old man. "You go first! You're old, let my brother help you! He's very strong!"

The old man shook his head and stuck the bamboo pole into the stern of the boat: "I'm an old man, I've been rowing this river for decades, and this accident is my responsibility. You guys go first, hurry, there's no time!"

Chen Hao strode to the old man's side, his tone calm yet carrying an undeniable authority: "Uncle, no rush, give me the boat pole."

"Young man, what time is it? You're still fooling around!" The old man stamped his feet in exasperation.

Chen Hao didn't say anything more, but simply reached out and gently grasped the boat pole from the old man's hand, easily taking it away.

He turned to look at the panicked women in the cabin, his voice steady and reassuring: "Hold on tight to the gunwale, sit still, and don't move."

Then, he looked at the old man next to him and said calmly, "Uncle, please sit down too."

The old man grew anxious: "Hey! What time is it! Hurry up and pull them out!"

Chen Hao did not answer. He stuck the bamboo pole into the water and gently pushed it.

The boat seemed to be pushed by something, suddenly surging forward. It wasn't the kind of "fast" acceleration that happens gradually; it was a "whoosh," like an arrow leaving a bow, like a fish entering water, like being pulled forward by an invisible hand.

The houses, trees, and stone railings on both banks all became blurry patches of color, receding into the distance. The wind rushed into the cabin, blowing the women's hair wildly.

Yang Wanqing screamed, but not out of fear—it was out of excitement.

"So fast! So fast, so fast, so fast!"

Chen Siyao clung tightly to the gunwale, looking back—the wall of water was still behind them, but the distance was increasing. The flash flood that had been almost at the stern was now being left dozens of meters away.