Chapter 21: Buying a Golden Rice Bowl for the Patriarch

Li Chengfeng rubbed his aching backside, still unable to believe that the Patriarch truly existed—he had just appeared in his dream and even kicked him twice. The thought that the Patriarch intended to take him away was terrifying.

Deep down, he knew the Patriarch was angry.

Hurriedly, he climbed out of bed and knelt before the Patriarch’s portrait. To his surprise, the figure in the painting squinted and curled his lips in displeasure.

Li Chengfeng quickly knelt and kowtowed, murmuring apologetically, “Patriarch, it’s all my fault for letting those scoundrels overturn your dining table and smash the rice bowls.”

“I’m useless—I couldn’t beat them. If I could, I would have beaten them so hard they’d have nothing left.”

“Please rest assured, Patriarch, I will make them pay. Please don’t be angry, and don’t take me away.”

“If you take me away, who will offer incense to you in the future?”

“That shattered porcelain incense burner can be replaced. Tomorrow, I’ll buy you a golden one.”

Kneeling before the portrait, Li Chengfeng kept bowing and explaining, occasionally stealing glances at the image. When he mentioned the golden rice bowl, the Patriarch in the portrait slightly narrowed his eyes, smiled faintly, and even nodded once.

After nodding, the figure reverted to his usual serene, immortal-like demeanor.

Gazing at the portrait, Li Chengfeng took a deep breath, uncertain whether this was dream or reality. The experience felt vivid yet unreal—how could the figure in a painting move?

Such a tale would be unbelievable to anyone.

Drowsily, he returned to bed and slept until dawn.

***

The next morning, Li Chengfeng sat up, his backside still throbbing with two fresh purple bruises. The previous night’s dreamlike encounter left him anxious.

He hurriedly rose and approached the altar, staring at the Patriarch’s portrait, which remained unchanged—calm and otherworldly as ever.

Li Chengfeng fixed his gaze on the portrait and cautiously asked, “Patriarch, did you send me a dream last night?”

The portrait remained motionless. After asking twice more, the Patriarch displayed a flash of impatience and then nodded emphatically.

“Ah, damn!” Li Chengfeng yelped, falling backward onto the floor, eyes wide with terror. He was certain now that what had happened was real.

At that moment, the portrait suddenly spoke.

“You sly fox, hurry up and buy me a golden rice bowl. If you fail, tonight I’ll take you away.”

Li Chengfeng quickly prostrated himself, knocking his head twice on the floor, raising his left hand above his head as he vowed, “Patriarch, wait for me—I’ll buy the golden rice bowl right away.”

The Patriarch in the portrait merely nodded before returning to his usual serene expression.

In a panic, Li Chengfeng dressed, grabbed the 100,000 yuan he had, and dashed out of the Suirentang, locking the door behind him.

The glass on the door had all fallen out, leaving a large hole—he would need to find a craftsman to replace the door when he had time.

No sooner had he stepped outside than a luxury car pulled up. Inside was Ye Mengyao, who rolled down the window and asked curiously, “Mr. Li, heading out so early? Is something wrong?”

Ye Mengyao’s timely arrival was a blessing; she could drive him instead of making him take the bus.

As Li Chengfeng got in, Ye Mengyao pulled out a small plastic bag containing some strands of hair and fingernails, grinning as she said, “I rummaged through the trash outside Ye Wuming’s room for a long time before finding these.”

“When will you let me witness some curse magic?”

“Later,” Li Chengfeng replied. “I have urgent business now; take me to the gold shop first.”

***

Nothing was more important than buying the rice bowl for the Patriarch.

At this moment, Ye Mengyao’s attitude toward Li Chengfeng had changed significantly; she no longer wore her usual icy demeanor.

They soon arrived at a gold shop named Shenghai Gold. Seeing Li Chengfeng rush inside in a fluster, Ye Mengyao followed, puzzled.

“Mr. Li, are you here to buy gold or silver jewelry?”

“Don’t ask what you shouldn’t,” Li Chengfeng snapped.

He circled the shop, finally selecting a golden incense burner, a pair of golden candlesticks, and two golden fruit trays.

The total cost was over 800,000 yuan. Li Chengfeng only had 100,000 yuan on him, but fortunately, Ye Mengyao, a wealthy heiress, was with him.

She didn’t understand why he wanted to buy these items but decisively paid the bill. The sum was trivial to her, especially since she planned to give him 900,000 yuan later after he healed her father and aunt—consider it an advance.

Knowing the Patriarch’s existence made Li Chengfeng cautious; he also purchased fine incense and fresh fruit.

With all the necessary items, he anxiously returned to the shop, arranged the golden incense burner, candlesticks, and fruit trays on the altar, then lit a stick of incense.

Respectfully placing it in the burner, he bowed to the Patriarch’s portrait and murmured, “Patriarch, I have bought what you asked for. It cost quite a bit.”

“Patriarch, I’m timid. Please don’t come after me tonight.”

Watching Li Chengfeng’s nervous antics, Ye Mengyao’s expression soured. She had spent so much money on a bunch of worthless trinkets—all just for a painting.

Truly, he was gravely unwell. Yet she was unaware that the old man in the portrait was staring right at her.