Chapter 038

Same-city express delivery, the next day, Qiao Man received a huge box stuffed full of presents.

He rarely got gifts from Lu Jianxing. Of course, Lu Jianxing never skimped on his food, clothing, or daily needs (Qiao Man had everything other kids had), but a gift so carefully packed in a cardboard box was a rare sight.

It might have lacked a pretty ribbon, but it was in a box, unopened, addressed specifically to Xiao Man—wasn’t that a gift?

Qiao Man hugged the box in delighted surprise. It was big and heavy, half his height; with his small body, even straining he couldn’t lift it. Eyes sparkling, he looked at Lu Jianxing, his nonexistent tail wagging like a propeller. “Is that for me? All of this is for me?”

“Yes.” Lu Jianxing: “Do you like it?”

“I love it!”

Maomao had brought the delivery in, and he was the one helping to open it. Maomao held a pair of scissors: “Baby, step back a little, careful you don’t get cut.” The sharp tip pierced the tape, and with a rip, the box was opened.

Qiao Man eagerly lifted the lid and peered inside, eyes sparkling, only to see the box stuffed full… of preschool textbooks.

Pinyin literacy, arithmetic exercises, picture-book readers—from children’s picture books to preschool textbooks, covering every age group’s learning curriculum, plus a whole pile of extra practice workbooks.

Qiao Man froze.

Lu Jianxing patted his head: “I almost forgot, you never went to school up in the mountains, so you can’t read or do math. Kindergarten might be optional, but at six you’re due for elementary school. We can’t let you fall behind at the starting line.”

Lu Jianxing said contentedly: “I was worried you wouldn’t like studying, but now it’s fine. Since you like it so much, let’s start with pinyin¹.”

Qiao Man: “…”

Qiao Man: “……..”

With so many adults on set, teaching a child basic literacy was more than enough.

And so, everyone quickly noticed that in a corner of the set, each day, the little master who drew talismans and told fortunes was gone, replaced by a little struggling student scratching his head over his studies.

During a break in filming, Pei Xiwang, fresh out of makeup, wandered over: “Master Xiao Man, I’m free this afternoon. Want me to take you to a movie, a cartoon, what do you say?”

Qiao Man had a math problem in front of him, frowning and counting on his fingers: “Twenty-seven… twenty-seven minus eighteen…”

Pei Xiwang watched as the child painstakingly finished counting his fingers, then grabbed a pencil and confidently wrote a big “5” after the problem.

Pei Xiwang: “…”

“It’s nine.” Pei Xiwang couldn’t help nudging him: “Nine!”

Qiao Man quickly snatched up the eraser, rubbed out the wrong number, and wrote the right one. He glanced guiltily at Maomao, Xiao Man’s temporary teacher, and only relaxed when he saw Maomao wasn’t paying attention.

Then on to the next problem… the child’s big, dark eyes looked up pleadingly.

Pei Xiwang: “…”

Pei Xiwang resignedly crouched down and explained the problem to him.

Despite his natural talent for drawing talismans and fortune-telling, and his impressive skills at such a young age, when it came to ordinary academics, Master Xiao Man was an honest-to-goodness little dummy. Pei Xiwang took on the temporary role of preschool teacher for half a day; when Qiao Man’s study time was over, Teacher Pei clocked out at a brisk pace, as if a ghost were chasing him.

The actual ghost was still lamenting: “When I first started my studies, I was called up to read before dawn every day. After more than ten years of that, I finally passed the exams to become a xiucai². Who’da thought, after dying, I can’t even read books anymore.”

Because all the words had become simplified characters³.

Qiao Man slowly closed his textbook, his little face dull and defeated, looking thoroughly worn out by studying.

Literacy in the morning, arithmetic in the afternoon—every day had scheduled lessons. Fortunately, his study time wasn’t long, only an hour each time, and the adults around him took turns teaching, whoever was free.

Maomao was the main teacher, and Film Queen Shao’s assistant, Xiao Xia, was also Qiao Man’s teacher.

Ever since they’d met that day, while the actors were filming, their two assistants would hang out together. Now that Qiao Man’s study time was over, he pulled out a tablet to happily watch cartoons, and Xiao Xia came pushing a small trolley.

“Teacher Shao is treating everyone to milk tea.” The trolley was loaded with milk tea.

Maomao happily grabbed three cups: “Great, thank Film Queen Shao for us.”

Once Xiao Xia had handed out all the tea and returned the trolley, she came back and sat down beside them, then pulled something out of her backpack.

Two thin knitting needles, light-colored yarn trailing into the backpack, occasionally going taut and pulling loose with her movements. Qiao Man, who’d been drinking his milk tea while watching cartoons, was soon captivated.

“Are you knitting a sweater?” Maomao chewed on a tapioca pearl and asked, “People still knit? That’s rare these days.”

“The weather’s getting cold; I want to knit a scarf for Teacher Shao,” Xiao Xia said.

Qiao Man couldn’t take his eyes off her. Xiao Xia’s hands worked the yarn skillfully, a section of the scarf already taking shape, the texture neat and beautiful. Qiao Man couldn’t resist reaching out to touch it, then turned to Maomao with pleading eyes: “Maomao, I want one too.”

Maomao’s tapioca pearl got stuck in his throat: “I… I don’t know how.”

“Then I’ll make one for you,” Xiao Xia said with a beam. “I’m quick. Once I finish this scarf, I’ll knit for you—sweaters, scarves, gloves, I can do them all. What patterns do you like?”

Qiao Man sat up straight, eyes shining as he looked at her: “Really?”

“Of course. I don’t know much else, just glad you don’t mind,” Xiao Xia said.

“I… I want this!” Qiao Man pointed at the pink pig on the cartoon, looking at her expectantly: “Can you do this one too?”

Xiao Xia glanced at it: “Sure thing.”

“Wow!”

Her fingers, though rough, were very nimble. She didn’t need to watch them constantly, just an occasional downward glance, and in no time she had finished a row. Qiao Man wiggled his stubby little fingers, but try as he might, he just couldn’t learn it, and he was utterly in awe.

“You’re knitting a scarf for Teacher Shao.” Maomao hesitated before continuing, “Teacher Shao…”

The modern clothing industry had advanced so much that few people still bought yarn to make things by hand anymore. And for it to be for Film Queen Shao, of all people… Maomao thought to himself, When you put “handmade” and “Film Queen Shao” together, shouldn’t it at least be a high-end designer bespoke piece?

Xiao Xia pressed her lips together, a trace of loneliness flickering across her face. “Honestly, I don’t even know if she’d accept it. I just wanted to give something back, but I can’t really do anything…”

“A gift is still a heartfelt gesture,” Qiao Man said. “If someone gave me a gift, I’d be really, really happy for a long time.”

Of course, it would be even better if that gift wasn’t a whole crate of homework. Qiao Man rested his chubby chin on his hand and let out a gloomy sigh.

Maomao said, “You come here every day to buy Sleep-Aid Talismans for Teacher Shao, right? That’s more than enough to repay her!”

Xiao Xia smiled, neither denying nor confirming it.

Ever since she’d discovered the Sleep-Aid Talisman’s effects, she’d secretly come to buy one from Qiao Man every single day, placing it beside Shao Jingqiu before she fell asleep, then retrieving it the next morning. Since she was the one who woke Shao Jingqiu up every day, Shao Jingqiu had never noticed. She’d only found it strange that her sleep quality had suddenly improved so much—her complexion had even gotten noticeably better lately.

But that wasn’t enough.

“You don’t understand—she’s truly wonderful.” Xiao Xia thought for a moment, then began to speak slowly. “My family is from a very remote, desolate mountain region. Back then, no roads had been built out there. Hardly anyone had ever left those mountains. The nearest elementary school was a several-hour walk from our village, and for middle school, you had to go all the way to town… It was just my grandmother and me at home. The two of us couldn’t manage much farm work, and the money from tilling the fields wasn’t enough to cover my living expenses. If it hadn’t been for a kind benefactor supporting me, I’d probably still be out in those mountains.”

Maomao guessed, “That kind benefactor—was it Film Queen Shao?”

Xiao Xia nodded firmly, her eyes bright. “She supported so, so many girl students. I was just one of them. I wrote letters to her, and she would write back with encouragement. She sent me daily necessities. Because of her, I was able to go to high school, to go to college. And it was only after I graduated that I found out—the kind benefactor who’d been supporting me all along was actually the big star from a movie I watched as a child!”

Shao Jingqiu had been in the industry for decades, with many brilliant works to her name. Quite a few of them were childhood memories for people today—including Xiao Xia’s. That day, when the person she had only ever seen in movies appeared right in front of her, her entire mind went blank.

And the person she had admired all her life was exactly as she had always imagined—as beautiful and kindhearted as a celestial being.

Maomao sighed with admiration. “Film Queen Shao really is a good person.”

Qiao Man said earnestly, “She’s done so many good deeds. Good things will come back to her.”

Xiao Xia nodded vigorously.

Good people would surely be rewarded!

It was also after becoming Shao Jingqiu’s assistant that she learned the reason she’d received that support in the first place. Shao Jingqiu had a daughter who had been missing for many years. After her daughter disappeared, Shao Jingqiu searched countless places and tried every method she could think of, but never found her. So she began doing charitable work, performing good deeds, accumulating blessings—hoping that somewhere out there, her lost daughter might also receive help from a kind stranger.

Xiao Xia lowered her head and focused intently on her knitting.

She didn’t have any great abilities. She couldn’t do anything grand. She could only manage these small, insignificant gestures.

If only she could help her the way Shao Jingqiu had helped her.

…

Another break period rolled around, and Director Yang came over to mooch a meal.

Shao Jingqiu hadn’t eaten the crew’s boxed lunch like everyone else today. Instead, she’d ordered from a hotel. As Director Yang helped himself to the food, he clicked his tongue in wonder. “You seem to be in a pretty good mood lately?”

Shao Jingqiu nodded. “I suppose so.”

Recently, her sleep had been unbelievably good, as if all the sleep disorders that had plagued her for years had vanished overnight. Every evening, not long after she lay down, drowsiness would sweep over her, and it would last until the next morning when she was woken up.

Sleeping well naturally lifted her spirits. Today, for instance, she even had the mental energy to be picky about her food.

The crew’s boxed lunches were, of course, nothing to write home about. But the spread before her—takeout from a major local restaurant—was leagues above in both presentation and ingredient quality. As an old friend, Director Yang showed no restraint. His chopsticks darted out, and he swept away more than half the dishes.

As he ate, he asked, “Any good news lately?”

He knew his old friend’s situation well. To outsiders, the film empress seemed to live a life of boundless glory, but in truth, for over twenty years, Shao Jingqiu had been trapped by the heartbreak of losing her daughter. She had never once stopped searching. Every time she caught wind of a lead that might relate to her daughter, she would rush off immediately—but so far, she’d found nothing.

Sure enough, at those words, the corners of Shao Jingqiu’s lips turned downward. “No.”

“Then why don’t you go have Xiao Man do some fortune-telling for you?” Director Yang suggested.

Shao Jingqiu blinked. “Fortune-telling?”

Director Yang’s chopsticks pointed across the way at the child not far off. “Master Xiao Man.”

“That kid again…” Shao Jingqiu let out a brief laugh, but it quickly faded, and she shook her head. “I’ve consulted fortune-tellers before. Several masters, all supposedly very accurate—but every one of them said something different… I went looking anyway and found nothing.”

“Master Xiao Man is different. Don’t underestimate him just because he’s young—he’s got serious skill,” Director Yang said. “With anyone else, I wouldn’t dare make guarantees. But Xiao Man is something else. He’s more capable than all those other masters. You’ve seen for yourself—both our crew and Director Liu’s crew have been all over his talismans lately. If they weren’t genuinely effective, would I be recommending them to you?”

As he spoke, Director Yang pulled a talisman paper from his pocket.

The Clarity Talisman⁴.

Master Xiao Man’s newest product.

He’d originally drawn it for his own studying purposes, but others soon discovered that carrying it helped them focus and, without even noticing, boosted their work efficiency. Naturally, his loyal customers had snapped up every last one.

Gazing at the yellow talisman paper, Shao Jingqiu felt a stir in her heart and looked toward the child.

Not far away, the kid was riding his newly acquired children’s pedal bike, the two little training wheels spinning round and round. He was chugging along at the pedals, his joyful laughter ringing out in every direction.

Lu Jianxing had just bought him a children’s bicycle.

After spending a few days on set, Qiao Man was starting to miss his little car.

His little car was so impressive. Every day when he’d drive it around the neighborhood, it would draw envious glances from countless children. He’d only just gotten the car and hadn’t had his fill of fun when he had to leave on a work trip, leaving the little car at home.

Qiao Man thought about it for days. Even when learning to read with the adults, he’d mutter “car” under his breath.

The Film and Television Base was always bustling with people, and a little car barreling around would be too dangerous. So Lu Jianxing bought him a children’s pedal bike.

It was a soft, pale yellow, a few times smaller than a regular bicycle, just the right size for a five-year-old. Two small training wheels on either side of the rear wheel helped him learn to ride without tipping over, and there was a little basket up front for carrying things.

Just then, Qiao Man was pedaling happily, his short legs pumping. As if he’d heard Director Yang mention him, he rode his new pedal bike straight toward them.

His finger flicked the bell on the handlebars, and with a jingling sound like a cartoon character’s entrance theme, he squeezed the brakes with his little hands and made a dashing arrival before everyone.

Qiao Man greeted her, full of pride: “Xiao Xia, look at my new bike!”

So he was looking for her. Xiao Xia played along and clapped. “So impressive!”

Hearing the praise, Qiao Man grew even happier. He pushed his little bike to a nearby spot, parked it neatly, then pattered back. He held out his hand, and a few plump purple candies dropped into Xiao Xia’s palm.

Xiao Xia exclaimed in delight, “Oh!”

Qiao Man, his cute dimples showing, said, “You like grape flavor the most. Here, for you.”

Lately, Xiao Xia often played with him, and they always shared snacks. Now that Qiao Man had just opened a pack of candy, he immediately came to share with his good friend.

“Baby, you remember my favorite flavor?” Xiao Xia was even more surprised.

“Of course I do,” said Qiao Man, counting on his fingers. “You like grape, Maomao likes strawberry, Xingxing can’t eat any—he’s watching his figure. And me, I like everything.”

Director Yang eyed the candy enviously. “What about me? No share for me?”

Qiao Man looked at him, puzzled. “Hm?”

Director Yang: “…”

But since he was here, Director Yang turned to Shao Jingqiu and said, “Look, Master Xiao Man came over on his own. Do you want to get a fortune reading?”

Qiao Man turned his head and met Shao Jingqiu’s gaze.

He blinked his round eyes, looking at the pretty auntie in front of him. The Film and Television Base was full of good-looking people, but Shao Jingqiu stood out even among them. Because of their connection through Xiao Xia, Qiao Man had a good impression of her. He took the initiative to ask, “Do you want your fortune told?”

Shao Jingqiu was also sizing him up. On this production, the kid’s fame eclipsed even the hottest stars, all because of the talismans he sold, which were said to be unbelievably effective. Even her own assistant went to play with him every day.

The child had short limbs, round cheeks, and delicately cute features, but the most striking thing was his bright, ink-black eyes, as clear as if washed with water. When their eyes met, Shao Jingqiu had the inexplicable feeling that he could see right through her.

He was just a five-year-old kid. Could he really be a master?

If his talismans were so effective, could he also be skilled at fortune-telling?

Shao Jingqiu felt both hopeful and hesitant.

She held hope in her heart, yet feared seeing it shattered once more.

Ever since her daughter went missing, nightmares had plagued her day and night. The moment she closed her eyes, she’d dream of the day her daughter disappeared. Back then, she had just given birth, her body still weak. She’d closed her eyes for just a nap, and when she opened them, the baby in the cradle beside her was gone. From that day on, she’d never had a peaceful night’s sleep; the nightmare replayed itself endlessly.

Due to the passage of time and limited resources, the surveillance had been destroyed, and the person who stole her daughter wasn’t caught immediately. Later, after an arduous effort, they caught the culprit, but her daughter was still missing. The person said they’d left the baby by the roadside, and she might have died somewhere long ago.

But she always felt that that tiny child must still be alive. After all, at birth, the baby had cried so loudly—her body must be strong, her life force tenacious. She must still be alive somewhere in the world, in a place her mother hadn’t found yet. Still, Shao Jingqiu had searched countless places, prayed to all manner of deities, tried every method. Time and again she’d followed faint leads, only to be met with disappointment after disappointment.

Over the past decades, she’d been disappointed countless times. What was one more?

Suddenly, an inexplicable premonition settled in her heart. It was as if a child’s wail pierced through time and space, urging her to reach out quickly, faster, even faster.

Shao Jingqiu straightened up and was about to speak when Director Yang cut in: “Huh, now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve ever had my fortune told by you.”

Qiao Man turned his head back.

“You want one too?”

“Yeah,” Director Yang teased. “I heard from Director Liu that you only charge ten yuan for fortune-telling. Is that true?”

“It’s true.”

It was only ten yuan, you couldn’t go wrong, couldn’t get ripped off. Especially with a genuine Little Master right here, the kind who could scare ghosts out of their wits. Director Yang turned to Shao Jingqiu and said, “If you don’t believe it, watch me demonstrate.”

Shao Jingqiu: “…”

Now everyone always carried cash to buy talismans. Director Yang pulled out a ten-yuan note and handed it over: “Here, Master Xiao Man, read my fortune.”

“What do you want to know about?”

“Hmm… let’s see…” Director Yang glanced around. Now middle-aged, he was a well-known director in the industry, with a successful career and happy family. He really had no regrets. After thinking, he said, “How about you read something for our production crew?”

“The crew?”

“The people in our crew.”

When filming a TV drama, what’s the biggest worry? Isn’t it that the final reviews will be terrible and the ratings will tank?

Director Yang was confident in his skills and poured his heart into the production. The crew was top-tier, every behind-the-scenes team a household name in the industry. The actors had been handpicked – a mix of rising stars and seasoned veterans, all with standout acting chops. Honestly, there was practically nothing to fault.

But what if… what if someone messed up?

Scandals happened every day in this industry. Take Xie Yunqian, for instance. He’d been blazing hot, practically owning half the spotlight, then overnight it came out that he’d been hiding a marriage, a kid, and an affair. His career tanked, and as if that wasn’t enough, his fans turned on him. Now he was buried in debt, lying in a hospital bed, and all his previous dramas had been yanked offline. As for the ones that hadn’t aired yet, who knew if they’d ever see the light of day again?

If someone like Xie Yunqian popped up in their own crew, it’d be too late for tears.

Director Yang murmured, “Everyone in our crew… they’re all good people, right? Nobody’s broken the law?”

Qiao Man blinked, then turned to look behind him.

The area had been rented by the crew, and only staff were present. It was break time; people were scattered around in twos and threes. The lead actors were resting in their RVs, while others lay or sat in the cool shade.

Countless visible figures entered his sight, and countless invisible streams of fate did as well. Every kind of person, every shade of luck – the seen and the unseen all reflected with perfect clarity in his dark eyes.

Qiao Man swept his gaze around, then turned back to meet Director Yang’s expectant look and nodded firmly. “Yes.”

Director Yang: ???

Director Yang: !!!

The smile on Director Yang’s face froze solid.

He blurted out, “What?!”

He’d only been making an idle remark – he hadn’t actually wanted to find one!

Translator’s Notes