Chapter 7: I Have Wronged You and Grandfather

At the same time.

In the heart of Yuncheng, a luxury sports car pulled up in front of a herbal medicine shop called “Wanren Hall.” A young woman soon stepped out of the car, carrying a wooden box in her hand, and walked directly into the shop.

“Miss Liu, what brings you here?”

No sooner had she entered than a shop assistant behind the counter hurried over to greet her.

“Is Grandpa Song in today?” Liu Yan asked.

“Oh, yes, the boss is in the tea room. You can go right in, Miss Liu.” The assistant stepped aside, making a welcoming gesture.

Without another word, Liu Yan headed straight for the tea room at the back.

A short while later, she entered a small tea room, where an elderly man was seated, engrossed in a book.

This was Song Qing, the proprietor of the shop.

“Haven’t I told you not to disturb me unless it’s something important?” Song Qing set down his book, irritation in his voice as footsteps approached.

But when he looked up and saw who it was, his expression transformed instantly.

“Liu Yan, little lass? It’s you?” Song Qing was surprised.

This girl rarely visited him. What was the matter today? Had she been scolded by her family again and come to pour out her troubles?

“Grandpa Song, are you saying you don’t welcome me?” Liu Yan teased. “Then I’ll just go.”

Pretending to turn away, she made to leave.

Song Qing pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Enough with the antics. What brings you here this time?”

At these words, Liu Yan turned back, a sly smile on her lips. She ran up to Song Qing, pouting playfully. “Oh, Grandpa Song, can’t I just come to see you for no reason?”

Song Qing, having anticipated her tricks, chuckled. “You little rascal, if you didn’t come to get a rise out of this old man, I’d be surprised. And you expect me to believe you’re just here to see me?”

Liu Yan had already settled herself beside him, clinging to his arm and swinging it back and forth. “Why won’t you believe me, Grandpa Song? I really am here to see you.”

She blinked her large, bright eyes at him, making him laugh in spite of himself.

“You always pull this routine,” Song Qing said, helpless. “Now be honest, what do you need from me this time?”

“Nothing at all.”

“Truly nothing?”

“Truly.” Liu Yan nodded.

“Alright then, if there’s nothing, I’ll get back to my reading.” Song Qing picked up his book again.

Seeing him resume his reading, Liu Yan’s eyes darted about. After a moment’s hesitation, she lowered her voice. “Grandpa Song, there’s something I’d like you to take a look at.”

With that, she lifted the wooden box.

Song Qing pretended not to hear, keeping his attention on the book.

“Grandpa Song?” Liu Yan waved the box before his eyes, but he didn’t respond, leaving her momentarily at a loss.

As she wondered how to proceed, Song Qing suddenly let out a deep chuckle.

Only then did Liu Yan realize she’d been teased. She feigned indignation, “Well, Grandpa Song! Laughing at me, are you? I won’t come here anymore!”

She made to leave, but Song Qing quickly called her back. “Oh, my little princess, don’t be angry! It’s all my fault.”

He gestured for her to sit down.

Liu Yan was secretly delighted, but kept a straight face. “Grandpa Song, you made fun of your granddaughter. I’m not speaking to you.”

Song Qing smiled kindly. “All right, all right, it was wrong of me to tease you. Come, sit down.”

Only then did Liu Yan take her seat.

Without waiting for her to speak, Song Qing asked, “What’s that in your hand? Is it a gift for your Grandpa Song?”

“Of course not.” Liu Yan handed over the box. “It’s my grandfather’s birthday soon. This is the present I got for him.”

A birthday present?

Song Qing took the box, immediately catching the faint scent of herbs.

Without a word, he opened it.

“Ginseng?”

“That’s right.” Liu Yan lifted her chin proudly. “Well, Grandpa Song, this cost me nearly a million—it’s a century-old ginseng.”

“Centennial ginseng?” Song Qing echoed, his gaze fixed on the root.

After a moment, he sighed. “Lass, how much did you say you paid for this ginseng?”

Sensing something amiss, Liu Yan answered, “To be precise, eight hundred and fifty thousand. Why? Is something wrong with it, Grandpa Song?”

Song Qing shook his head. “It’s not the ginseng itself—it’s the age. It’s not as old as you think.”

What? Not as old?

Had that person really been right?

“Grandpa Song, isn’t this a hundred-year-old ginseng?” Liu Yan pressed, still unwilling to believe it.

That person hadn’t even seen her ginseng, yet claimed it was only twenty years old. How could that be?

“Lass, you may not believe it, but you’ve been deceived.”

“I’ve been deceived?”

“Yes. This isn’t a centennial ginseng. Judging by the appearance, it’s at most twenty years old.”

Song Qing hadn’t wanted to upset her, but since she was planning to give it to her grandfather as a century-old root, he had to be honest. Otherwise, it would be awkward if the truth came out later.

“What? Twenty years?” Liu Yan was stunned by the answer.

He’d really guessed it!

“Lass, are you alright?” Song Qing asked, thinking she was in shock.

“No… I’m fine,” Liu Yan murmured. “He really was right.”

“What’s this about someone being right?” Song Qing asked, confused.

Wait—had she really been shaken by the news?

Just as he was about to speak again, Liu Yan grabbed his hand, her face alight with excitement. “Grandpa Song, do you believe someone can tell the age of ginseng just by looking at the box?”

“What? That’s impossible,” Song Qing replied incredulously.

He’d worked with herbs for over fifty years, yet even he couldn’t make that claim.

“It’s true,” Liu Yan said, steadying herself. She recounted the earlier events to Song Qing.

By the end of her story, Song Qing’s wrinkled face was filled with astonishment. “Lass, is this really true?”

“Of course it is! Otherwise I wouldn’t have come to you for confirmation, or been so agitated just now,” Liu Yan insisted, calming herself with effort.

Suddenly, she realized she’d missed something important. Jumping up, she dashed out of the room.

“Hey, lass, aren’t you taking your ginseng?” Song Qing called after her.

“It’s for you, Grandpa Song!” came her voice from outside the door, but she was already gone.

…

Elsewhere.

The Su residence.

Knock, knock, knock!

Inside one of the rooms, Su Zhenguo and Zhang Hong stood by the bedside, watching over their daughter Su Meng.

At the sound of knocking, they exchanged glances, thinking perhaps their son had returned.

Su Zhenguo nodded to his wife, then went to open the door.

With a creak, the door swung open to reveal not his son, but a servant.

“What is it?”

“Master, I think the young master has returned,” the servant replied.

“Yifan? Where is he?” Su Zhenguo asked, excitement in his voice.

“He’s in the mourning hall,” the servant replied, pointing the way. He’d only glimpsed someone there as he passed, so he wasn’t certain.

“Really? Wonderful!” Overjoyed, Su Zhenguo glanced back at his wife, then hurried toward the mourning hall.

…

At that moment, before the mourning hall.

Su Yifan knelt on the ground, his forehead pressed to the floor, tears slipping from his lashes to form a small damp patch on the ground.

Just then, a hand rested gently on his shoulder.

“Don’t grieve too much. If your grandfather’s spirit knows you’ve come home, he’ll be happy.”

“Dad, I’ve let you down. I’ve let Grandpa down…” Su Yifan whispered, his head still bowed, his voice choked with emotion.