He walked into the courtyard, passed through the main hall, and saw the place where he had played as a child. Unable to suppress the excitement in his heart, he quickened his pace toward his old home. But when he reached the door, he saw that it was locked, the lock already rusted. Sensing inside, he found no furniture at all—just a few empty rooms. Had his parents moved away?
At that moment, a neighbor noticed someone approaching. Zhu Siqi looked closely and recognized her—it was the neighbor he had called Aunt Xi when he was little. He hurried over and asked,
"Aunt Xi, where are my family? Do you know where they went?"
Aunt Xi was puzzled. This young man was calling her Aunt Xi, but she didn't recognize him at all. Seeing her confusion, Zhu Siqi realized she didn't know who he was anymore.
"I'm Xiao San! I used to play at your house every day when I was little. Don't you remember?"
Aunt Xi looked at him carefully. He did resemble Zhu Kun a little. Only then did she realize this was Zhu Siqi, who had left home more than ten years ago.
"So it's Xiao San! Your family built a new house. They've moved out to the roadside now, toward Chaoyang. Come, I'll take you there."
Aunt Xi was very warm-hearted. She had liked this child when he was little, and seeing him suddenly return, she knew his parents would be overjoyed. She went back into her own house, shut the door, and led Zhu Siqi out.
Along the way, whenever someone asked, she would answer loudly, "This is Zhu Kun's Xiao San. He just came back today and doesn't know where his house is anymore. I'm taking him there."
Hearing this, some people recognized him and started talking to him one after another:
"Where have you been all these years?""Is the poison cured?""When did you come back?""Does your family know?"
Zhu Siqi answered them one by one, calling them by their childhood titles—Third Aunt, Fourth Aunt, Second Uncle, Little Uncle, and so on.
When they reached the road and walked back in the direction he had come from, less than a hundred meters away stood a two-story red-brick house. There was a small concrete yard in front, and a small courtyard with several utility rooms behind it.
By then, someone was already shouting outside his family's gate,"Zhu Kun! Teacher Zhu! Your Xiao San is back—come out quickly!"
Zhu Siqi's father might not have been home, but his mother heard the shouting and came out at once. From afar, she saw the young man walking toward her. A mother could recognize her son at a glance. Though he had grown taller and older, she had thought of him every day and dreamed of him every night—wondering how he was now, whether his appearance had changed.
As he came closer, Zhu Siqi saw his mother clearly. She had grown old. Wrinkles covered her face, and much of her black hair had turned silver. He walked up to her, hugged her tightly, and could no longer hold back his tears.
His mother was now much shorter than him. She patted his waist and said,"Don't cry, don't cry. It's good that you're back. Come inside quickly."
Others nearby also comforted him,"Yes, Xiao San, don't cry. Coming back is a happy thing. Why are you crying? Go inside."
Zhu Siqi and his mother went into the house. He asked,"Where's Dad? Where did he go?"
His mother replied,"Your father probably went to someone else's house to chat. He can't sit still at home and likes to go around talking with people.Xiao San, how have you been all these years? Where's your master—why didn't he come with you? Are you healthy now? Oh right, have you eaten?"
Seeing how concerned his mother was, Zhu Siqi felt a warmth in his heart. He told her everything about himself and his master over the past ten-plus years, except for his martial arts and the fact that he had learned several foreign languages. He only mentioned that his English was pretty good. He didn't hide anything else.
Hearing that her son had lived alone in the mountains for more than ten years, Zhu's mother felt heartache. Thinking of how mischievous he had been as a child, she couldn't imagine how he had managed on his own. But Zhu Siqi himself didn't mind—he was already used to it.
At that moment, Zhu Kun also heard from others that his son had returned and hurried back. When father and son met, Zhu Siqi cried again.
"Don't cry," his father said. "You're grown up now. As long as you're back, that's enough. Have you eaten lunch?"
Zhu Siqi said he wasn't hungry, but his mother knew he hadn't eaten. Even though the family had eaten not long before, she lit the stove again and cooked another meal.
Zhu Kun asked about Zhu Siqi's experiences, and Zhu Siqi repeated what he had told his mother. When Zhu Kun heard that his son had already finished studying all the junior and senior high school textbooks, he was very happy. He had once been a teacher himself and believed that studying was the best path for children. Seeing how smart his son was made him even happier.
"Even if you've finished the textbooks, you still need to consolidate your knowledge. Do more exercises. Tomorrow I'll prepare a set of questions for you and see how well you've really mastered everything."
Zhu's mother, hearing this, got a bit angry."Our son just came back, and all you think about is studying! He should rest properly now—do nothing, just eat well at home every day."
"Alright, alright, I'll listen to you," Zhu Kun said, smiling happily.
Zhu Siqi then asked about what had happened at home all these years, and Zhu Kun told him everything.
A few years after Zhu Siqi left, the village needed an accountant, and the village secretary came to Zhu Kun, asking him to take the role. At that time, the salary of a privately funded teacher wasn't high, while village conditions were gradually improving. Collective factories were set up. After thinking it over, Zhu Kun resigned and returned to the village as an accountant. Later, the village opened two factories—a smelting plant and a pipe-casting plant—and Zhu Kun served as accountant for both, holding three positions at once. The family's situation gradually improved. A few years ago, they built a new red-brick house on their own land.
The eldest sister, Zhu Qi, finished high school but didn't get into university and went to Zhuhai to work with classmates. The second sister, Zhu Mei, finished junior high and didn't continue studying. She went to Chaoyang to learn tailoring, acquiring a practical skill.
By then, Zhu's mother had finished cooking and called her son to eat. There weren't many dishes—just some cured pork and a bowl of fried eggs. Zhu Siqi hadn't eaten authentic hometown food in a long time and ate with great relish. Seeing him eat so fast, his mother reminded him,"Slow down. Don't choke."
After the meal, Zhu Siqi's eldest uncle and second uncle also came to see him. His eldest uncle lived just a little uphill from their house, and the second uncle lived not far away, near the old house.
They asked about Zhu Siqi's situation. This time, Zhu Kun and his wife answered for him, and Zhu Siqi just nodded occasionally—"Mm, yes," "Mm, right."
People in the countryside are very curious. Soon, neighbors came one after another to ask questions. Zhu's parents answered them patiently, their faces full of joy. They didn't seem tired of repeating themselves at all. In fact, whenever someone came, they happily talked about their son.
In the afternoon, Zhu Mei, his second sister, came back. She was very happy to see her younger brother. In the past, whenever their parents mentioned him, they would sigh deeply. Now that he was back, their parents seemed to have grown younger overnight.
The next morning, his mother woke Zhu Siqi early, saying they were going to his maternal grandparents' home so his grandparents and uncles could see him. His mother was the eldest of five siblings, with two younger brothers and two younger sisters. Zhu Siqi was the oldest grandson among them. Though there was no strict concept of eldest grandson, his grandparents had always loved him dearly. Since he was back now, they definitely had to take him to see them.
This time, Zhu Kun didn't go along. There was plenty of work at the village factories, and he was busy. He would only be home in the afternoon.
At his grandparents' house, his uncles and grandparents bombarded him with questions again. His mother happily answered on his behalf. They stayed for lunch before returning.
When they got home, Zhu Kun had also returned. Although he had agreed the day before not to push studying, he still found some old college-entrance mock exam papers from when his daughter was in her final year of high school. While Zhu's mother went out to work in the fields, he handed the papers to his son and told him to try them.
Zhu Siqi knew his father had high expectations of him, so he showed his true ability. Talented students were common enough, and being outstanding academically wouldn't cause much trouble later. Moreover, doing well in school was probably the greatest comfort he could give his parents.
He looked at the papers—seven sets in total: Chinese, Math, English, History, Geography, Physics, and Chemistry. He borrowed a fountain pen from his father and began writing. Scratch, scratch, scratch.
Zhu Kun watched from the side. He saw that for many questions, his son didn't even need to think—he wrote the answers straight away. Even for the harder questions later on, he only paused briefly and never used the scrap paper Zhu Kun had prepared. It took nearly two hours to finish all seven papers, mostly because Zhu Siqi wrote rather slowly.
Zhu Kun stood there with his mouth wide open, wide enough to stuff seven or eight eggs into it.
After finishing, Zhu Siqi left the room. He sensed that his mother had returned from the fields with a basket of vegetables, ran over to her, took the basket from her hands, and walked home together.
It took Zhu Kun a while to recover. He hadn't used high school knowledge in years, and he had only taught junior high before. He gathered up the papers, planning to visit his former colleague Xie Taibin, now a high school teacher, to ask several teachers to help grade them.
When Zhu's mother returned, he told her he had something to do and might not be back for dinner, then hurried out.
That night, Zhu Kun didn't return for dinner. It wasn't until the family was almost ready for bed that he came back, his face glowing with excitement.
Seeing Zhu's mother, Zhu Siqi, and Zhu Mei waiting for him, he said as soon as he entered,"Today I had Xiao San do a set of college-entrance mock exams. Do you know how many points he got? Six hundred and ninety!"
He didn't even wait for them to ask before blurting it out. Zhu's mother and Zhu Mei were both shocked. Zhu Siqi himself felt nothing special—he knew he should be close to a perfect score. At most, he might have made a small mistake from writing too fast, and Chinese would probably lose a few points. The rest should be nearly flawless.
"With that score, getting into Peking University or Tsinghua is no problem," Zhu Mei said.
"Yes," Zhu Kun replied excitedly. "Xie Taibin said the same. I took the papers to him, and he called several other teachers to grade them together. They couldn't believe it. But I watched Xiao San do them myself!"
"And they hope that after the New Year, Xiao San can go straight into their senior graduating class. They guarantee Peking University or Tsinghua."
Hearing this, Zhu Siqi thought, This is bad. He really didn't want to attend top universities—it would be too conspicuous. And living expenses in Beijing would definitely be high. He had spent over ten yuan on a single meal in Zhengzhou; in Beijing it would probably be dozens. The family's conditions weren't great. He should be helping, not burdening them. As long as he had books, he could learn anywhere—he could read several books a day.
Thinking this, he didn't say much. He knew it was useless anyway. What parent doesn't want their child to attend a prestigious university? Even if they had to suffer a bit themselves, the pride alone would make it worth it.
"Dad," Zhu Siqi finally said, "I know how to handle my own affairs. And I don't really like famous universities. Besides, my master told me not to be too high-profile, or it could bring trouble later."
He had no choice but to use his master as a shield.
"Alright, alright," Zhu's mother cut in. "Let's stop talking about this. Everyone go to bed."
After that, Zhu Kun didn't bring it up again. He knew his son had his own ideas. After all, Zhu Siqi had lived alone outside for more than ten years. Even if Zhu Kun wanted him to go to Peking University, forcing him would be wrong. He already felt he owed his son too much.
Being a teacher himself, Zhu Kun was relatively open-minded—not like parents who insisted their children attend elite universities at all costs. As long as his son truly had ability, that was enough.