The golden afterglow of sunset shimmered across the surface of Qinghai Lake, unusually bright. The children walked alongside the old man, admiring the scenery as they strolled slowly across the sand toward the water's edge.
After the trials, the relaxation allowed Ajun to finally immerse himself in the beauty around him… until a breeze carried a trace of sand across his lips, reminding him of something he'd forgotten.
—Ah, how could I forget what got into my mouth earlier…
Though he felt no discomfort, and his mouth seemed fine, his usual fastidiousness compelled him to turn politely aside and quietly clean himself—he wouldn't dare disturb the group's enjoyment.
"—Don't worry, child. That's Xirang. A little won't harm you."
The old man, walking ahead with his shell on his back, noticed everything. He turned slightly, offering a kind explanation: "—Don't waste it. Most people never get the chance to taste it!"
"Xirang—oh! That reminds me. We have a porcelain piece from Jingde at home. Dad said it's a treasure, but I never saw it that way. One time, I accidentally broke it… but guess what? Mom didn't even react. Want to know why?"
Xiao Xi perked up at the mention of Xirang, launching into a story with unexpected enthusiasm.
"Why's that?" Xiao Shuai chimed in, playing along.
"I was terrified at first. That piece cost a fortune—Dad bought it through an auction app. But after Mom scolded me, the porcelain… it repaired itself! Haha, magical, right?"
"Could it have been made of Xirang?"
"Exactly. Dad said he spent a lot to get it. Mom nearly exploded at first, but after some persuasion, she realized how durable it was. So she kept it—as an investment."
"Indeed. Xirang is an ancient treasure, brimming with vitality and extremely rare. Even a tiny amount can trigger self-repair—no matter how badly damaged, it can gradually return to its original form."
Yuwen, catching the old man's glance, interrupted the chatter. He glanced toward the maze, his expression subtly shifting—as if recalling something.
"Oh, makes sense… You've got way more experience than us!" Xiao Shuai noticed his friend's look, glanced at the maze too, and teased Yuwen with a grin.
—Ah, I was just overthinking. A false alarm.
Ajun felt relieved after hearing all that. He reassured himself and continued walking with the group toward the lake.
Suddenly, he remembered the fish he'd seen earlier, and the eye-like ripple on the lake's surface. He couldn't help but gaze into the distance… and once again saw the koi, still striving. A question rose in his heart, and he murmured:
"They… do they really have a chance to become dragons?"
"—Easier said than done."
The old man had reached the lake's edge. He paused, turned to bid the children farewell. Upon hearing Ajun's thought, he turned again, gazing into the distance.
"Is it just a legend?" Xiao Shuai, who'd been chatting moments ago, now asked earnestly.
"Hmm… not just a legend. But it's not that simple either."
The old man stroked his beard, eyes fixed on the ripple. He spoke with quiet mystery:
"Among the spirit-beast koi, there have indeed been rare cases of leaping through the Dragon Gate and transforming. But among this group… not every one has a chance. In fact, none of them do. No matter how hard they try—it's just a beautiful dream."
"Why? Doesn't effort count for anything?" Xiao Shuai voiced the question on everyone's mind.
"Yes, effort matters. Even a clumsy bird can learn to fly early—but only if it's a bird that can fly. Think about it: can an ostrich do that? It's like having a string of zeros without a one in front—no matter how many zeros you add, it's still nothing."
The old man chuckled as he shared his insights:
"For thousands of years, only a handful of koi have joined the dragon lineage. Maybe once every thousand years… no, two thousand? Hmm… yes, one or two every thousand years. And only one bloodline holds that possibility."
Following the old man's gaze and words, the children looked at the persistent koi, silently cheering them on. Among them, Yuwen watched most intently—even Xiao Shuai's call didn't break his focus. He stared quietly, lost in thought.
"Hey! What's up? Feeling nostalgic again?" Xiao Shuai seemed to sense his friend's mood, speaking in a tone only childhood friends would understand.
"Mm…"
Yuwen replied faintly, then returned to his silence. Ajun, using his high-tech glasses, spotted the koi couple Yuwen knew well. They were still waiting their turn to leap.
Amid countless mocking, dismissive glances, the yellow koi looked discouraged, its spirit low. But its partner, glowing silver, remained passionate—encouraging him tirelessly, as if saying: "Try harder. You can become one of the dragons."
"Hmm… golden arowana… maybe they can."
The old man's muttered words broke Ajun's thoughts again. Just as the children leaned in to hear more, he turned away, yawned, and—perhaps ready to head home—said no more.
He began warming up again—stretching his arms, twisting his waist… then placed one hand behind his back, facing the lake where waves danced like petals. He looked as if he were about to deliver another grand quote.
Just as the old man opened his mouth, a massive wave surged up before him—right in everyone's line of sight—and crashed down. He was soaked to the bone. Yet all he'd wanted was to bid the children farewell.
"Good kid—believe in yourself. Keep going—until we meet again!"
Drenched and awakened by the splash, the old man added a line for Ajun, then donned his cool sunglasses, raised a hand, and prepared to leap into the lake with his heavy shell.
"Gramps!"
Just as Turtle Grandpa struck a pose atop the reef, two figures burst from the lake and landed on the beach, stopping him. Everyone stared—it was a Boston Giant Shrimp and a Lock-Claw Crab, both upright and… talking!
"You forgot last time you dove in—you hit a reef! What about your hair and hat?"
"Huh? I know. Do I need you two to remind me? I was just watching the sunset!"
Turtle Grandpa grumbled, canceled his dive, and resumed his warm-up. The shrimp and crab, clearly his attendants, gently reminded him again—citing signs of senility and mismatched behavior.
"What? I can't do warm-ups now? Gramps does what he wants. Don't interrupt, kids!"
The shrimp and crab exchanged glances, shook their heads, then smiled politely at the children. They were Grandpa's loyal companions, worried about him going alone. After all, he was a thousand years old—and rumors said his mind was slipping…
"—Have you decided yet?"
Still doing warm-ups, Grandpa suddenly asked the sunset a question. Everyone blinked in confusion. Perhaps age was catching up…
Only Yuwen remained unmoved, lost in thought.
"Well then, let me know when you're ready. You know—everything comes with a price."
Grandpa calmly addressed the lake again, then—without warning—leapt into the water.
"Gramps! Don't be so dramatic! You need your meds!"
"Let's go."
The shrimp and crab quickly greeted the children, then gently carried the unconscious Grandpa away, fading from view.
The sky darkened. After a while, Yuwen checked the time and decisively reminded the group to head back before dinner—his grandfather would worry. Only Dimples lingered beside Ajun, perhaps still touched by Grandpa's care.
"Ajun, still standing there? Let's go!"
"Oh, got it—hey, Dimples, look at that. Beautiful, isn't it?"
"Meow…"
"So magical—the lake water looks like it's glowing…"
"Meow!"
"Wow! Look—those waves near the shore carry deep blue sparkles. They shimmer like blue tears, rising and falling with the tide. It's dazzling—twinkling like stars, filling the sky…"
"Ajun, hurry up! We'll be late for dinner!"
The next morning, the sky was clear. Blue skies, white clouds, and crisp air filled the scene with joy. Ajun woke early—after completing his trials, he felt refreshed and energized.
He and his companions had planned to set off that morning, eager to reach the next destination and complete the final challenge.
With the New Year approaching, most young guardians had already returned home after their journeys, celebrating with family. Ajun hadn't finished his yet, and the pressure weighed on him.
Though he kept telling himself to stay rational, it wasn't working. The academy's registration deadline was near—he had to hurry.
Despite the urgency, Ajun was thoughtful. After breakfast, he planned to visit Grandpa to say goodbye. The group strolled leisurely through the corridor of the Yuwen estate. Due to recent events, they hadn't had a chance to admire the place.
The Yuwen clan loved plants. The courtyard was filled with herbs, ornamental flowers, and rare species—all meticulously cared for, radiating vitality. At the center stood a single rose.
Normally, roses wouldn't bloom this time of year. But this one had grown tall, still in bud, yet strikingly vibrant and beautiful.
As everyone admired the scene, a faint voice reached Ajun's ears—Yuwen's, filled with resistance, quickly replaced by silence. It came from the study nearby.
Grandpa Yuwen worked there daily. He was likely talking to his grandson—but it didn't sound smooth. Just as Ajun approached to knock, the door burst open.
Yuwen stormed out, face twisted, glaring coldly at Ajun before walking away, avoiding everyone's gaze.
Xiao Xi flared up, squinting and rolling up her sleeves, ready to confront him. They'd seemed like friends yesterday—why the sudden hostility?
Ajun and the others quickly stopped her.
Dimples meowed on Ajun's shoulder, sensing the tension and reminding him not to take it personally. Ajun smiled and nodded, then led the group into the study.
Grandpa Yuwen stood with hands behind his back, gazing out the window, sighing. On the desk lay an unfinished chess game.
Ajun sensed something was wrong. He asked the others to wait, then gently greeted the old man.
Grandpa hesitated, then turned, surprised to see the children waiting. He quickly took Ajun's hand, invited them to sit, and composed himself—sipping tea and chatting calmly.
Upon hearing Ajun's plan, Grandpa didn't say much. Though reluctant, he understood that partings were natural.
After the farewell, the group prepared to leave. But Grandpa seemed unwilling to let Ajun go just yet. So Ning'er and Xiao Xi took Dimples back to pack, leaving Ajun behind to talk.
Ajun stayed, hoping to ease the tension between grandfather and grandson. After all, it seemed he was somehow part of the problem.
The old man gazed at the child before him—grown at last—with joy tinged by a quiet ache. Perhaps he was reminded of his own grandson's younger days. His eyes shimmered with tears born of two emotions intertwined. No one knew better than Grandpa Yuwen how much hardship Ajun had endured since childhood.
This child was like a seed from a greenhouse, somehow cast into the storm. He grew amid wind and rain, nurtured by kind souls like them, yet still faced trials no delicate sprout should bear.
But the sprout proved strong and brave. After all he'd been through, he grew tougher. Now, he was a sapling—able to stand on his own, surrounded by loyal friends.
The old man felt comforted. In contrast, his own grandson—once a promising seed in a greenhouse, blessed with every advantage—had become withdrawn and rebellious, like the thorned rose blooming in the courtyard.
Though childhood shadows had left deep scars, it was his grandson's habitual avoidance and closed-off nature that truly worried Grandpa Yuwen.
For years, he'd searched for ways to help the boy open up again, but nothing had worked. Yet this recent trial gave him hope. Perhaps…
After some thought, the old man shared his feelings with Ajun, then made a heartfelt request: he hoped his grandson could not only become classmates with Ajun and the others, but true friends—ones who could speak openly and heal together.
Ajun, grateful for all the care Grandpa Yuwen had given him over the years, agreed without hesitation. Seeing this, the old man's tears finally fell—his sorrow melting into joy, though tinged with a quiet sadness. For Ajun, that sadness remained a secret buried deep in the old man's heart.
After Ajun agreed to help, Grandpa Yuwen relaxed. They sipped tea, discussed the chessboard, and even touched on medicine.
Due to his constitution, Ajun had long been exposed to medical knowledge. He'd studied theory and wellness on his own, and held a deep interest in sacred medicine.
The old man, sensing this, offered a rare gift in return for Ajun's help: the chance to become a direct disciple of sacred medicine—grandson of the Yuwen clan's elder patriarch, the last heir of the old master.
It was an honor many dreamed of. Ajun, having just become a student of the Luban family's head, now stumbled into another stroke of fortune.
He was overwhelmed. Though delighted, he wondered—was he truly worthy?
Thankfully, Grandpa Yuwen reassured him. As Ajun's great-uncle master, it was perfectly fitting. No formal ceremony was needed; the offer was simply to confirm Ajun's intent.
Relieved, Ajun accepted happily. Whether he called the old man "Master Grandfather" or "Great-Uncle Master" didn't matter—whatever felt right to him.
After bidding farewell, Ajun bowed respectfully, then left the study with the secret scroll gifted by his great-uncle. As he turned, a familiar sound reached his ears—meow.