What's Good Here

After the autumn harvest in Lin Family Gully.

In the harvested rice fields, eight-year-old Lin Luoyu, barefoot and clutching a small bag, bent low to scour every inch of the earth.

She searched for stray grains of rice or overlooked rice stalks.

Though the fields had already been combed through at least twice by the landowners, leaving little behind, humans were bound to miss things.

Lin Luoyu didn’t expect to find any intact stalks—her main goal was the scattered grains buried in the mud.

The search had to be thorough yet swift. Every year after the harvest, the straw stubble was burned as the most primitive fertilizer to ensure a decent yield the following season.

Lin Luoyu’s eyes brightened as she reached into the mud and pulled out a stalk that had been trampled into the soil.

Though the grains were coated in dirt and far from plump, to her, they might as well have been glowing.

Suppressing her excitement, she quickly plucked the grains one by one and stuffed them into her small bag.

Encouraged by this unexpected find, she redoubled her efforts.

But alas.

Good fortune was but a rare mercy from the heavens—most of life was spent waiting for that fleeting compassion amid misfortune.

By the time Lin Luoyu had combed the entire field, her bag held only a modest handful of grains—enough, perhaps, to cook a thin porridge.

Still, it meant food for the day.

Without bothering to wipe the damp mud from the bag, she tucked it into her clothes and hurried home.

She had barely stepped out of the field when a mocking woman’s voice rang out from behind a roadside tree:

“Starting young with the stealing, are we?”

Lin Luoyu’s heart lurched, her vision swimming for a moment. She turned to see the landowner’s wife—a thin, sharp-eyed woman with a perpetually pinched expression.

The woman sneered. “Hand over what you took from my field!”

Lin Luoyu didn’t explain or defend herself. Young as she was, she understood—this woman had been watching her the whole time.

She hadn’t spoken up while Lin Luoyu was gathering the grains, waiting until she was done.

A few harsh words would have been bearable, but it was clear the woman wanted the meager handful of rice in Lin Luoyu’s possession.

She wanted to shout back—You were going to burn them anyway! You didn’t even want them!

But reason rarely filled an empty stomach.

Lin Luoyu spun around and bolted, ignoring the curses hurled after her. She ran with her head down, legs pumping.

The woman brandished a switch, screaming obscenities as she gave chase.

After a while, every breath burned Lin Luoyu’s throat, her legs growing heavier with each step.

But she didn’t dare stop.

The curses grew louder, as if the woman were right behind her.

She could already imagine the sting of the switch against her back.

Thud!

Lin Luoyu collided with something—only to be caught in a pair of arms.

Gasping for air, she looked up in terror to see a stranger—someone she had never met in Lin Family Gully.

The woman gazed down at her with concern.

“What’s wrong?” Li Junzi asked gently, then glanced at the approaching landowner’s wife. Her expression softened.

“You shouldn’t be so mischievous—”

Before she could finish, the woman swung her switch with a vicious whoosh, aiming straight for Lin Luoyu.

Li Junzi raised a hand, blocking the blow, and pulled the dirt-streaked girl close.

Before she could ask what was happening, the landowner’s wife spat out her accusations like scattered beans:

“Who do you think you are? Get out of the way! I’m teaching this little thief a lesson she won’t forget!”

Li Junzi looked down at the trembling Lin Luoyu, then back at the woman.

“What did she steal?”

“My rice!”

Lin Luoyu’s voice cracked as she shouted back, “I didn’t steal anything!”

“Oh, you didn’t?” The woman scoffed. “Then what’s in that little bag of yours, if not my rice?”

Lin Luoyu didn’t know how to argue. She could only scream,

“You didn’t want it! You didn’t want it!”

The woman’s face twisted with smug disdain, as if she stood atop some moral high ground.

“I never said I didn’t want it! Hand it over, now!”

Li Junzi said nothing more. Instead, she took two copper coins from her purse and offered them to the woman.

“Then consider it sold to me.”

The woman’s expression shifted as she snatched the coins, her sneer melting into greedy delight. Still, she couldn’t resist a final jab.

“Today, some kind soul paid your debt. Next time, I’ll have your legs broken!”

After spouting her harsh words, the middle-aged woman turned and strutted away as if she had won a great battle.

Li Junzi didn’t say much, only lowering her gaze to look at Lin Luoyu in her arms.

Lin Luoyu’s eyes were wide, brimming with unshed tears, her lips pressed tightly together.

Li Junzi gently patted her back and whispered soothingly,

"It’s alright now..."

"I didn’t steal!" Lin Luoyu’s voice trembled with tears as she pulled out a small pouch from her embrace.

Li Junzi peered inside—a few grains of rice mixed with dirt lay quietly within.

The rice was pitifully sparse, the mud inside outnumbering the grains.

"She threw them away!" Lin Luoyu finally burst into sobs, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. "I only picked them up because she didn’t want them! I didn’t steal!"

"I didn’t steal!" Her whole body shook as she cried out.

All she wanted was to clear her name—starving as she was, Lin Luoyu had never stolen a thing.

Li Junzi wanted to say more, but she only softened her voice and murmured,

"I know. I know. It’s okay."

Lin Luoyu wiped her tears with the grimy, mud-streaked sleeve of her clothes, leaving a dirty smudge across her face.

It looked almost comical.

Pursing her lips, she said stubbornly, "You shouldn’t have given her money!"

"Mm... my mistake."

Li Junzi nodded in agreement, but before she could say more, Lin Luoyu wriggled out of her arms, clutching the pouch tightly, and dashed toward the village.

Li Junzi watched as Lin Luoyu ran barefoot over the sharp, rocky path, as if fleeing could somehow escape the humiliation.

This was how Li Junzi and Lin Luoyu first met.

No grand encounter, no lengthy exchange—not even many words spoken.

It even ended on a sour note.

Li Junzi pressed her lips together, just as Lin Luoyu had.

Nightfall.

Though called Lin Family Gully, the place wasn’t actually a gully.

It was just remote.

A small river flowed some distance away—not large, but home to fish.

Lin Luoyu skewered earthworms she’d dug up onto her hooks. Calling them "hooks" was generous—they were just fish bones painstakingly sharpened, crude and uneven.

Whether they caught anything depended entirely on the fish’s stupidity.

Lin Luoyu had fashioned several of these hooks, along with lines made from twisted vine bark and passable branches, into makeshift fishing rods.

The finished products looked downright shoddy.

Baiting all five rods, she cast them into the water, securing each to something sturdy on the bank.

Lin Luoyu didn’t know much about fishing, but she’d seen others do it this way.

And five rods had to be better than one.

Of course, this method was mostly a matter of luck.

Still, she’d managed to catch a few foolish fish before.

So, deep into the night, Lin Luoyu would come here with her precious rods to try her luck.

Tonight, the weather was fair, the moon full and bright.

But even with its glow shimmering on the river, Lin Luoyu could barely see—her vision blurred by malnutrition-induced night blindness.

Catching fish was pure chance; dropping a line didn’t guarantee a bite.

Most times, she left empty-handed.

Most times, she arrived hopeful and departed reluctantly.

These rods were her prized possessions, painstakingly assembled through sheer determination.

So even as darkness swallowed the land and unease gnawed at her, she stayed.

Listening to the chirping insects, the distant barks of village dogs, she sat alone by the river, waiting.

Only the occasional slap at a mosquito broke the silence.

"So unfair..."

Lin Luoyu muttered under her breath, scowling.

She still couldn’t shake the injustice of that afternoon.

It wasn’t the first time she’d been wronged, but she remembered every slight vividly.

And she never let go of a single one.

A familiar voice sounded from the darkness.

"Fishing at this hour?"

Lin Luoyu startled, scrambling to her feet as she whipped her head toward the sound.

It was Li Junzi—the woman who’d paid those two copper coins for her earlier. She stood at a respectful distance, her smile gentle, making no move to come closer.

Giving Lin Luoyu all the space she needed to feel safe.

Lin Luoyu’s first instinct was to bolt, but her eyes darted to the fishing rods.

In a hesitant voice, she bargained, "I’ll pay you back those two coins... just give me a little... a lot more time."

Li Junzi’s tone remained warm. "Why would you need to? I gave them willingly."

Lin Luoyu froze, unsure how to respond.

Here was a chance to be free of the debt—a fortune to her—just by accepting a single sentence.

But her lips quivered, and though her voice wavered, it was firm:

"I’ll pay it back!"

She didn’t know why, but something inside her refused to let it go. A stubborn weight lodged in her chest, refusing to budge.

Lin Luoyu could endure the lash of a whip, but she couldn’t withstand this sudden kindness.

It wasn’t that no one had ever been kind to her—the neighbor’s sister-in-law had treated her well too. Occasionally, when she saw how scrawny Lin Luoyu was, she would share a tiny portion of her own meager rations with her. So when Lin Luoyu caught fish, she would also give some to the neighbor’s sister-in-law.

But in these times, everyone was starving.

Such kindness was far too rare.

Lin Luoyu knew she wouldn’t share her food with someone she’d just met, so she didn’t quite understand Li Junzi’s actions.

Yet… she couldn’t let it go.

This warmth, insignificant to most, felt unbearably intense to Lin Luoyu now.

People seemed to grow into strange beings in strange ways, tangled in their own contradictions.

Li Junzi was momentarily at a loss for words.

She had read countless books and debated principles with countless people.

But none of those books had prepared her for this, nor told her what to do in such a moment.

That mouth, which had spoken so many truths, now found itself speechless before this sensitive, self-doubting girl.

Those lofty principles suddenly felt too distant.

Instead of answering, Li Junzi changed the subject. "Why come fishing at night?"

Lin Luoyu lowered her head. "Because during the day, this spot belongs to Lin Dagou. He won’t let me fish here, and he’ll snatch my rod."

Li Junzi stepped closer. "Are the fish here easy to catch?"

"No. I often don’t catch anything."

"Then why come out so late to fish?"

"Because I’m hungry."

Li Junzi couldn’t describe the feeling that rose in her chest. Even after reading ten thousand books and savoring poetry that touched the heavens, she found no words—only sorrow.

She took a deep breath, pulled out some provisions from her robe, and offered them to Lin Luoyu. "Would you like some?"

Lin Luoyu stared at the food, lips pressed tightly together, hands gripping her trousers.

When Li Junzi expected her to accept gratefully, Lin Luoyu refused.

"I can take care of myself."

Her voice wavered, as if on the verge of tears—or as if she was trying to convince herself.

Li Junzi withdrew the food and inhaled deeply again. "Then… may I fish with you tonight?"

Lin Luoyu tilted her head slightly in thought, then gave a small nod.

Li Junzi moved quietly to Lin Luoyu’s side, gazing at the shimmering river.

Unseen by the girl, she produced a brush, its tip wreathed in faint white energy, and began writing something in the air.

Moments later, one of the fishing rods twitched.

Lin Luoyu lunged for it with startling speed.

No sooner had she reeled in a fish than another rod bent with a bite.

Li Junzi waited a little longer, spacing out the intervals, until Lin Luoyu had landed a third.

Then a fourth. A fifth.

Lin Luoyu stared in disbelief at the five sizable fish before her.

Li Junzi smiled. "You’re amazing."

Lin Luoyu nodded absently, still fixated on the fish.

Li Junzi didn’t mind—but soon, she was surprised again.

Lin Luoyu picked out the two largest fish and held them out to Li Junzi.

For the first time, a faint smile touched her face.

"Before today, catching even one fish was lucky. Getting five means you must’ve shared your luck with me."

"So these are yours too."

Li Junzi’s expression softened as she accepted the fish.

Lin Luoyu tied three fish together with grass rope, then gathered all five rods.

Under the moonlight, the two walked side by side—an adult carrying five fish, and a child shouldering five fishing rods.

"You’re not from the village. I’ve never seen you before."

"No, I’m not."

"Where are you headed?"

"I was going to Gentleman Mountain—to study, debate, and seek enlightenment."

"Gentleman Mountain? That sounds far away… You said ‘was.’ Where are you going now?"

Li Junzi adjusted her grip on the fish and looked toward the horizon.

"To Lin Family Gully."

"Here? What’s so good about this place?"

"Because I’ve realized—reading about the world is no substitute for seeing it. And debating principles is no match for living them."