“Yiku Yue?”

“Yes.” Liang Jin sipped the water Li Wenshui had just poured for him and explained the reason for his return to the old house. The Liang family had a tradition: every July, which marked the month when the family patriarch first rose to prominence, they observed a month-and-a-half-long “Yiku” (recalling hardships) activity. Anyone with the surname Liang had to temporarily give up luxuries and adopt a frugal lifestyle. The family heir was required to stay at the old house, where the elders would undergo evaluations by the current family head, Master Liang. Younger members would follow a vegetarian diet and copy scriptures to pray for the family’s blessings.

Master Liang had three sons, each managing one part of the family’s business empire. Now approaching their fifties, Master Liang was starting to groom and test the younger generation. This year’s Yiku Yue challenge naturally fell to them.

Li Wenshui, sitting beside Liang Jin, was surprised at such a custom. “What kind of test?”

Liang Jin pulled out his phone, scrolled for a moment, and handed it to Li Wenshui. On the screen was a massive family group chat. The latest message was a rules document sent by the butler, Uncle Li.

Li Wenshui skimmed the document and realized that the participants in the test would have their personal funds temporarily frozen. Over the month-and-a-half period, they were given a budget of 15,000 yuan to bring happiness to the children at the Ankang Welfare Home. The children would then vote for a winner, and the winner would receive 3% of the Liang family’s shares. Additionally, a donation of 1 million yuan from the family’s shared assets would be made to a welfare institution in the winner’s name.

Li Wenshui froze, staring at the phone, completely stunned. Liang Jin noticed and pinched his cheek, smiling as he asked, “What are you thinking about?”

Li Wenshui came back to his senses and returned the phone. “Your family is nothing like the wealthy people I’ve met.”

The wealthy people he had encountered were arrogant, rude, and used money to oppress others. They indulged in extravagance and waste, and even when they donated, it was often just for tax benefits. This was his first time seeing a family actively and genuinely engaged in philanthropy.

Liang Jin seemed to guess what Li Wenshui was thinking and said, “There are actually many truly charitable wealthy people; they’re just more low-key. As my great-grandfather used to say, ‘Accumulate virtue, do good deeds, and blessings will multiply.’”

Li Wenshui thought for a moment and said, “But doesn’t that mean the wealthier someone is, the more charity they can do, and the more blessings they get? What about poor people? If they don’t have money for charity, does that mean they don’t get blessings?”

Liang Jin grabbed Li Wenshui by the arm, pulling him onto his lap. Looking up at his face, so close he could see every delicate pore, he said, “Not necessarily. The intention matters. Even something as small as giving one yuan to a beggar, as long as it’s done with genuine compassion, counts.”

Today, Li Wenshui not only learned about the unique Liang family but also heard something unexpected from Liang Jin. Liang Jin didn’t seem like someone who would understand these things.

“How do you know all this?” Li Wenshui asked, looking at him as if discovering a new continent.

Amused, Liang Jin brushed aside the strands of hair covering Li Wenshui’s eyes and said, “Since I was eight, I’ve been copying scriptures every Yiku Yue.” He knew plenty of principles but didn’t consider himself a good person.

His fingertip slid to Li Wenshui’s ear, gently playing with his earlobe. “If Baby wants to do something charitable, how about cooking for me?”

The food made by the old house’s chef during Yiku Yue didn’t suit Liang Jin’s palate. In past years, he ate very little during this period. Now that Li Wenshui was around, he might as well take advantage.

“But I have to work during the day…”

“It’s fine,” Liang Jin said. “Just cook when you have time.”

Cooking for Liang Jin… Was it because no one made him food during Yiku Yue? A pampered young master like him definitely wouldn’t cook.

“No problem,” Li Wenshui agreed without hesitation.

Liang Jin had anticipated that Li Wenshui would agree. He set Li Wenshui down, stood up, and straightened the creases in his clothes. Before leaving, he gave Li Wenshui a quick kiss and said, “I’ll move to the courtyard closest to you tonight. I’ll send you the address in a bit.”

After Liang Jin left, the ancestral hall returned to its eerie silence. Lying alone on the bed, Li Wenshui could hear the rustling of leaves, the wind, and the chirping of insects. Truthfully, he was a little scared. But in comparison, the fear of not having money was much worse.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed, startling him. Liang Jin had sent his location.

Li Wenshui stared at the chat box for a while before typing:
[Liang Jin, do you think ghosts exist?]

A few minutes later, Liang Jin replied:
[Getting scared now?]
[Who said I’m scared!]
[Not afraid of graveyards, very brave.]
[What graveyard?]

Wasn’t it an ancestral hall? Weren’t there just ancestral tablets?

[Did Uncle Zhao not tell you that the ancestral hall backs onto my family’s graveyard?]

Li Wenshui: …

He wished he didn’t know. He even suspected Liang Jin was scaring him on purpose—this guy was full of mischief.

Tossing and turning until the middle of the night, Li Wenshui couldn’t resist sending another message:
[Are you asleep?]

The truth was, he wanted to admit that he was a little scared, but he didn’t type those words. Instead, he waited for Liang Jin’s response. However, by the time he finally fell asleep from exhaustion, Liang Jin still hadn’t replied.

—

The next morning, Li Wenshui had noticeable dark circles under his eyes. When he arrived at Liang Jin’s place, Liang Jin was already awake, with scriptures and ink laid out on the table.

Though Li Wenshui didn’t understand the scriptures, he had to admit that Liang Jin’s handwriting was impressive—bold and vigorous.

Liang Jin lay lazily on the bed, unwilling to get up. Noticing the faint paleness on Li Wenshui’s face, he rested his chin on his hand and asked, “Did you sleep well last night?”

“No.”

“What happened?”

Liang Jin had the audacity to ask. After scaring him and ignoring his messages, Liang Jin had left him sleepless all night. And now, the culprit had the nerve to wear an innocent smile as if nothing had happened.

Without responding, Li Wenshui silently rolled up his sleeves, turned his back to Liang Jin, and started washing the freshly picked vegetables the housekeeper had just delivered from the garden.

Liang Jin watched Li Wenshui’s busy back for a while. After a moment, he shifted topics. “What do you think the kids at the orphanage need the most?”

Slowing his actions, Li Wenshui replied without hesitation, “Enough to eat, warm clothes, and an education.”

Liang Jin sat up, throwing on his coat. “That’s right.”

Li Wenshui cut the broccoli into pieces, a memory of his ten-year-old self surfacing in his mind. He spoke again, “If it’s about improving happiness, for kids, it’s not just about eating enough but eating well. A healthy body is the foundation of everything. They’re at an age where they need to grow, and fresh, delicious food is the quickest way to bring them joy.”

He recalled the indescribable joy he’d felt as a child when he first tasted the cake he had longed for. “If it were me, I’d use that fifteen thousand yuan to grow vegetables. A month and a half is enough time to grow plenty,” he said, sunlight from the window falling on him. “Eating vegetables you’ve grown yourself would also give the kids a sense of accomplishment, wouldn’t it?”

Suddenly, a pair of hands wrapped around his waist. Liang Jin, who had somehow appeared behind him, said, “Then let’s do it your way.”

“I was just saying,” Li Wenshui looked up at Liang Jin, who didn’t seem to be joking. “Do you even know how to grow vegetables?”

Liang Jin shook his head. “I don’t,” he admitted, a small smile curling the corners of his mouth. “But I can give it a try.”

Li Wenshui didn’t hold out much hope for Liang Jin actually growing vegetables. How could someone who couldn’t even cook manage farming? It was probably just to get through the challenge.

That afternoon, Wenshui got off work early, leaving the hotpot restaurant around two o’clock. He could have stayed longer to make more tiramisu to sell, but his heart felt like it was flying back to Liang’s family estate.

By three, he arrived at the Master Liang residence. After cleaning the ancestral hall, he wandered over to Liang Jin’s courtyard. Not finding him there, he ran into the housekeeper, who pointed to the back hill. “The young master went that way.”

Following the direction, Wenshui walked on and spotted Liang Jin from afar. Dressed in branded sportswear with pristine white sneakers now sinking into the wet soil, Liang Jin held a hoe that seemed utterly out of place with his elegant demeanor. Standing amidst the fields, he gazed into the distance, the woods behind him forming a picturesque backdrop.

As Wenshui approached, he noticed that the ground in front of Liang Jin had already been tilled. Dirt smudged Liang Jin’s clothes, pants, and even his arms.

“You’re really going to grow vegetables? I thought you were just going to wing it,” Wenshui said incredulously.

“Why would I half-ass it?” Liang Jin rested his hands on the hoe, his chin on his knuckles, raising an eyebrow. “If I’m going to do it, I’m going to do it properly. I’m too old to make a mockery of the orphanage kids, don’t you think?”

For the first time, Wenshui realized Liang Jin wasn’t as frivolous and indulgent as he had assumed. Liang Jin could be serious when he wanted to.

Coming to his senses, Wenshui snatched the hoe from Liang Jin’s hands and efficiently started creating furrows in the soil. “You’re doing it wrong. Watch me; it’s like this.”

Wenshui worked quickly, leaving no chance for Liang Jin to step in. By the time he finished plowing, large beads of sweat were dripping down his face in the sweltering heat. Liang Jin handed him a bottle of water. “Good work.”

After gulping it down, Wenshui felt slightly less overheated. “Let’s go check out the orphanage,” he suggested.

—

Ankang Orphanage was located in a poor neighborhood. As they entered, the place looked dilapidated. The rust-covered gates creaked, and the windows rattled in the wind. A few children ran around a rickety swing.

Though their clothes were old, they were meticulously clean. When they noticed the two men at the entrance, a group of children ran excitedly toward Wenshui. A little boy grabbed his hand and asked, “Gege, did you bring us biscuits again?”

Wenshui patted the boy’s head gently, his expression soft. “I’ll bring you biscuits tomorrow, okay?”

Wenshui had learned about Ankang Orphanage before Liang Jin. One day, after selling tiramisu, a child had been staring at his van with wide, shining eyes, clearly wanting something. Although the tiramisu had sold out, there were still free sample biscuits left, so Wenshui got out of the car and gave the boy some.

After that, whenever he passed by, more children would come to ask for biscuits. Since they were cheap and easy to make, Wenshui had continued bringing them.

Liang Jin stood watching Wenshui, momentarily unable to look away.

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