Chapter 53 concludes, a fleeting dream.

The snow hadn't yet cleared from the bronze gate when the Zhang family members shoved the tightly bound remnants of the Nine Gates and the schemers inside. Wu Erbai, being pushed and shoved, still roared, "I am the head of the Wu family!" His voice was quickly swallowed by the cold wind inside, and the bronze gate slammed shut as if no one had ever been there. Zhang Yan, standing behind Zhang Qiling, bowed and said, "Clan leader, everything has been taken care of. No one will bother us again."

Zhang Qiling didn't turn around, only holding Hei Xiazi's hand as they walked down the mountain. Hei Xiazi, hands in his pockets, kicked at the shards of ice on the snow: "Finally, some peace and quiet. I'll never have to deal with these bastards again." Suddenly, something warm was shoved into his other hand. Looking down, he saw a roasted sweet potato—Zhang Qiling had pulled it from his backpack, still warm. "Mute Zhang, when did you hide this?"

"I bought it in town this morning," Zhang Qiling said softly. He watched as Hei Xiazi took a bite of sweet potato, some mashed sweet potato getting on his lips, and reached out to wipe it off for him. The sunlight fell on the two of them, the light in the snow dazzling, yet warm like the spring sun.

Later, they bought a small courtyard in a southern town. Ivy climbed the walls, and two osmanthus trees grew by the entrance. Hei Xiazi always said he wanted to learn to cook, but he ended up stewing braised pork until it was charcoal-black, still insisting, "It tastes like caramel." In the end, Zhang Qiling put on an apron and stewed a new pot. At the dinner table, Hei Xiazi would snatch the vegetables from Zhang Qiling's bowl, saying, "You eat the braised pork, I'll take care of the vegetables." Zhang Qiling didn't stop him, but just picked out a few pieces of meat from his own bowl for him.

Xie Yuchen would occasionally come over for a visit, bringing fine Longjing tea, and sit at the stone table in the courtyard to drink it. Once, watching Hei Xiazi chasing the cat in the yard, he suddenly laughed: "Dumb Zhang, do you remember that time in the desert? You brought me milk, and I only realized later that you treated me like a junior—after all, someone always said when they were little that they wanted to steal a child to raise, and that they wanted to raise a chubby, white child, like a little dumpling."

Hei Xiazi happened to be carrying the cat over when he heard this and retorted, "What do you mean by stealing a child? I just thought Xiao Yuchen was cute when she was little and wanted to adopt her as a goddaughter!" Xie Yuchen raised an eyebrow: "I'm a man." "Then you're a godson!" Hei Xiazi retorted stubbornly. Zhang Qiling sat next to him, watching the two bicker, picked up his teacup and took a sip, a smile hidden in his eyes.

Life went on like this, ordinary yet full of warmth and life. In the morning, Zhang Qiling would go to the alley entrance to buy soy milk and fried dough sticks, while Hei Xiazi would stay in bed, waiting for him to come back before slowly getting up; in the evening, the two would take a walk by the river, Hei Xiazi holding Zhang Qiling's hand, rambling on about how Aunt Wang at the alley entrance had given them a bunch of greens again today, and they would make wontons to return them tomorrow; at night, Hei Xiazi would lean back on the sofa watching old movies, while Zhang Qiling sat beside him, his head resting on his shoulder, slowly falling asleep.

One night, Zhang Qiling suddenly felt a sharp pain in his chest, so intense that he could hardly breathe. He tried to call out to Hei Xiazi, but no sound came out, and his vision began to blur—the osmanthus tree in the courtyard was gone, the stone table had turned into cold rocks, and the movie sound in his ears had turned into the howling of the wind and sand.