Li Chengfeng boarded the bus back to the Hall of Serendipity, his mind still reeling from the Ye family's toxic power struggle. *Better to return the money and cut ties completely,* he thought. The risk of entanglement in aristocratic blood feasts wasn't worth any sum.
As he approached his shop, he spotted two couples huddled at the entrance—**Wang Jun and his wife**, alongside **Yang Dongming and his spouse**. Their faces bore the gauntness of sleepless grief, but their eyes flickered with fragile hope. Beside them sat humble offerings: walnut milk cartons, vacuum-sealed sausages, and cheap baijiu liquor.
"Master Li!" Wang Jun straightened, clutching a plastic bag bulging with red envelopes. "We've waited all morning. We… we wanted to thank you properly."
Li Chengfeng ushered them inside, embarrassed by the ostentatious stack of 100,000 yuan still littering the tea table. The parents' eyes widened at the sight, their hands instinctively patting threadbare pockets.
"Please, sit." Li Chengfeng gestured to the root-carved sofa. "I'll make tea."
"No need, no need!" Yang Dongming blurted. With trembling hands, both men produced thick wads of bills—years of savings compressed into crumpled red notes. "Take this. It's… it's all we have left."
Li Chengfeng's throat tightened. These were factory workers, their calloused palms and faded jackets betraying lifetimes of labor. He plucked **two single bills** from each stack—200 yuan total—and pushed the rest back.
"This is enough."
"But—" Wang Jun's wife protested, tears spilling. "The other 'masters' charged thousands! You found our boys… how can this be all?"
"My grandfather taught me: **Good deeds are their own reward**." Li Chengfeng softened. "Keep the money. Buy your families warm coats for winter."
As the parents wept, Li Chengfeng hesitated. The drowned boys' plea lingered in his mind. "There's… something else. Last night, your sons visited me."
The room stilled.
"They asked me to tell you… **'Don't cry. Live joyfully. We're at peace now.'**"
Wang Jun collapsed to his knees, forehead pressed to the floorboards. "Thank you… thank you for letting us hear their voices one last time."
Li Chengfeng helped them up, voice gruff. "Burn them clothes tonight. They… they were shivering in the dream."
---
**Outside the Hall of Serendipity**
Unseen by all, **Ye Mengyao** watched from her parked car. She'd followed Li Chengfeng, hoping to beg his return—but now froze in shock.
The sobbing couples exiting the shop matched faces from a viral news clip: *Grieving Parents of Qingcheng Reservoir Tragedy*. Her phone buzzed with the trending hashtag: **#MysticGourdMaster**.
A video looped—gourds defying physics to retrieve the bodies. Netizens mocked it as CGI, but Ye Mengyao's breath hitched. *The gourds… the timing…*
Her gaze snapped to Li Chengfeng's silhouette in the window. *Could he truly be…?*
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