On the morning of the first day of the Lunar New Year, Lin Fang was overjoyed receiving red envelopes. Apart from little Yuanyuan, she was the only one in the family who got lucky money this year. In previous years, her parents would give her just one red envelope between the two of them, containing at most two yuan. But this year, each of them gave her a separate envelope, each stuffed with ten yuan.
Lin Yuanmin spoke with emotion, “Fang, we wish your heart heals soon. As long as you’re healthy, nothing else matters.”
“Yes, Fang, as long as you’re healthy, nothing else matters,” Dong Huixin echoed, wiping her eyes with her hands. Usually sharp-tongued, she could only repeat this phrase over and over, unable to say anything else.
“Little sister, this is the lucky money from your elder brother and me. From now on, take good care of yourself.”
“Thank you, sister-in-law. You take care too.”
When Yan Ping handed her a red envelope, Lin Fang was stunned. Not only was Yan Ping her peer and thus not obligated to give lucky money, but she was also known for her sour expressions whenever her husband helped the family financially. What had gotten into her today? Had she changed her nature?
Though Yan Ping’s blessings sounded stiff, it was the New Year after all. For the sake of her elder brother’s affectionate gaze and her adorable little nephew babbling “doudoudou,” Lin Fang wouldn’t spoil the mood. She accepted the envelope and returned an equally stiff reply. Honestly, she couldn’t muster anything more heartfelt for Yan Ping.
Just then, Lin Tuo entered the courtyard. Seizing the chance to escape the awkwardness, Lin Fang dashed out with a grin, stretching out her hand. “Second Brother, Eldest Brother and Sister-in-law gave me lucky money. What about you? Don’t tell me you didn’t prepare any?”
Lin Tuo laughed heartily. “Of course I did! How could I not? My little sister’s health is improving—that’s reason enough for lucky money!”
He reached into his coat’s right pocket, fumbling for a while but pulling out nothing. Then he tried the left pocket, only to come up empty-handed again. Frowning, he patted all his pockets but still found nothing.
“Second Brother, are you messing with me?” Lin Fang narrowed her eyes—this wouldn’t be the first time.
“Hey, I wouldn’t joke about this. Here, how about this instead of lucky money?” Lin Tuo stopped searching and reached inside his coat, pulling out a red plastic bag from under his arm and handing it to her.
Lin Fang took it, puzzled. “What’s inside?”
“Let me open it for you.”
Taking the bag back, Lin Tuo tore open the packaging with a few quick motions. Shaking it open, a bright red high-neck fitted sweater unfurled before them—not a defective piece, not needing alterations, flawless and stylish.
Holding it up against Lin Fang, Lin Tuo said, “From now on, I’ll never buy you flawed clothes again. Only the best for my sister. Your heart will heal soon, and you’ll be as healthy as any other girl—no, even prettier. The prettiest girl there is.”
“Second Brother, you’re so corny,” Lin Fang teased, her voice already thick with tears.
“Wait, Lin Fang’s heart condition is better?”
Lin Guicheng strode into the courtyard with the same seven men from yesterday, cutting straight to the point. As a martial artist, his hearing was sharper than most, and he’d caught Lin Tuo’s words clearly from outside.
Lin Tuo nodded. “Yes, Uncle Cheng. The doctor said her heart is healing and might recover naturally. Look, her complexion is rosier than before—must be improved blood circulation.”
Lin Yuanmin and Lin Yong stepped forward to exchange New Year’s greetings, while Dong Huixin and Yan Ping busied themselves boiling dumplings.
Amid the cheerful chatter, Lin Guicheng pulled out a red envelope and handed it to Lin Fang. “Here, this is from Uncle Cheng. Take it. Getting better is cause for celebration—no crying on New Year’s, it’s bad luck.”
“Thank you, Uncle Cheng. Wishing you prosperity and good fortune in the New Year,” Lin Fang replied brightly, accepting it.
Following his lead, Sun Siyuan and the six workers each offered their congratulations and handed Lin Fang their prepared red envelopes, leaving her torn between laughter and tears. Sun Siyuan, in particular, seemed like a brash young man around Lin Yong’s age, yet he acted all high and mighty, his face blank as if she owed him money.
When Lin Guicheng produced three more envelopes for Lin Yong, his wife, and Lin Tuo, Lin Yong protested—married with a child, he was too old for lucky money. Lin Tuo also refused, saying he was past twenty and long past the age for such gifts.
Lin Guicheng scowled. “No matter how old you are, you still call me Uncle, don’t you? This is our first New Year together, so I’m giving these. Next year, don’t expect any. Unless… your parents didn’t truly accept me as family, and you’re all keeping me at arm’s length.”
Lin Yuanmin, who’d been about to decline on his son’s behalf, chuckled. “Well, you’ve beaten me to it. Fine, you three, just take the money. Who knows what else Uncle Cheng might accuse us of otherwise.”
Reluctantly, the three pocketed their envelopes. Lin Yong and Lin Tuo offered simple thanks, while Yan Ping, ever the smooth talker, launched into a lengthy New Year’s blessing—far more sincere than her earlier words to Lin Fang.
“Bao bao! Bao bao!” Little Yuanyuan, seeing no envelope for himself, cried out impatiently, sending the room into peals of laughter.
Lin Guicheng scooped him up from Lin Yong’s arms. “Come here, little one. Call me Grandpa, and I’ll give you a red envelope bigger than your parents’!”
But Yuanyuan only recognized the red envelope, not Lin Guicheng. Wriggling in the stranger’s arms, he grew fussy.
“Ding ling ling—”
Lin Guicheng pulled out a small red box and shook it gently, the tinkling of bells inside instantly capturing Yuanyuan’s attention. Wide-eyed, the child stared at the box, curiosity overtaking his distress.
“Let Grandpa show you,” Lin Guicheng said, opening the box to reveal a longevity lock.
Lin Fang’s heart skipped a beat—not at the sight of the pure gold lock, but at the tiny bells strung along its chain. They looked achingly familiar, as if she’d been transported back to that other world.
As the lock passed between her parents and elder brother’s family, accompanied by polite exchanges, and Yuanyuan fussed over his “stolen” treasure, Lin Fang tuned it all out, fixated on the bells. Only when Yan Ping closed the box did she snap out of it, asking Lin Guicheng, “Uncle Cheng, where did you buy this?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t. It was a gift from an old friend. An old man like me has no use for it—better suited for Yuanyuan.”
“And the bells on the chain? Were they part of it?” This was the crux.
“No, I added those myself. Thought they’d amuse a child.”
“Are the bells yours?”
“Yes. They belonged to my daughter when she was little. Now that she’s grown, I passed them to Yuanyuan.”
“Oh. They’re delicate and lovely.”
Though questions swirled in her mind, Lin Fang held back. This was too unbelievable.
In that other world, as a one-year-old cradled in her father’s arms, she’d met Lin Liulang and her second grandmother. Lin Liulang had jingled a string of tiny bells to entertain her. Though her adult soul had little interest in childish trinkets, she’d adored dainty, intricate things—so she’d kept those bells.
Over time, she’d polished them smooth and gleaming, their original luster replaced by an uneven metallic sheen. She remembered each bell’s shape vividly—and they matched the ones on the lock’s chain perfectly.
It couldn’t be. If these were her bells, how had they gotten here? Could objects traverse worlds too?
Lin Guicheng’s explanation made sense—perhaps his child, like her, had cherished the bells, wearing them similarly. Yet the eerie sense of ownership lingered.
When Dong Huixin asked about his family, Lin Guicheng—who’d been watching Lin Fang closely—turned his attention to Yuanyuan. “My daughter moved away with her mother after the divorce. She hasn’t spoken to me since.”
The original Zhou Guicheng had a wife and child, but he had no interest in playing family. His purpose here was to save his own daughter. Their indifference suited him fine.
“Uncle Cheng, what’s your daughter’s name? Is she around my age?”
“Zhou Qiyue. She’s over thirty now.”
Lin Guicheng dared probe no further. The old monk had warned him—revealing the truth prematurely could backfire. His impulsive act of showing Lin Fang her childhood trinket had already sparked her suspicion. Given her changed temperament, she might not forgive her mother if she learned why they’d left Lin Manor.
So he stuck to Zhou Guicheng’s story, hoping to quell her curiosity. For now.
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage