Proving God begins with the principle that no effort is wasted.

Three days after the messenger delivering the good news left, the commotion at Reed Bay had not yet completely subsided.

Cheng Erniang pasted the big red congratulatory notice on the cabin door so that everyone coming in and out could see it.

Every day, she would wipe the dust off the good news notices with a damp cloth, then step back two steps, examine them for a while, and then step forward to smooth out the edges.

There used to be a dried reed fish hanging there, but she moved it to the side to make room for the good news announcement.

Jiang Lan arrived home on the evening of the fourth day.

He hired an oxcart from town, which was piled with rice, flour, coarse cloth, two strips of cured meat, and a jar of wine.

The old man driving the cart didn't recognize him and kept muttering, "Whose family is this being delivered to? Is it for a daughter's wedding or a bride's?"

Jiang Lan didn't respond, and the old man didn't seem to mind, continuing to talk to himself.

When the oxcart stopped at the Reed Bay wharf, several neighbors who were collecting fishing nets looked up, recognized Jiang Lan, and almost dropped their shuttles.

"Alan is back!"

"The scholar is back!"

The shouts echoed like pebbles thrown into water, ripples spreading outwards in concentric circles.

When Cheng Erniang crawled out of the house, her hands were still covered in stove ash, and she hadn't even taken off her apron. She saw Jiang Lan jump down from the oxcart, paused for a moment, then quickly walked over, stopped when she got close, looked him up and down, and reached out to touch his arm, as if to confirm that he was really him.

"I've lost weight," she said.

"I haven't lost weight," Jiang Lan said.

Cheng Erniang didn't believe him, so she squeezed his shoulder again before she smiled. Her eyes were red when she smiled, but she held back her tears.

She turned and shouted into the house, "Turn up the fire on the stove and stew that fish!"

The items were unloaded one by one from the oxcart: rice, noodles, coarse cloth, cured meat, and wine, piled up at the bow of the boat, taking up most of the narrow passageway.

As she carried the loads, Cheng Erniang muttered, "Why did you buy so much? It must have cost a lot of money. You just passed the imperial examination and will need money for many things in the future, so don't waste it..."

"I didn't buy it," Jiang Lan said. "It was a gift from someone."

"Was it a gift?"

"The martial arts school gave it away, and the county government also gave it as a reward."

She carefully put everything away, rubbing the cured meat with salt and hanging it up, stuffing the wine jar under the bed, and neatly folding the coarse cloth into the wooden box. She left one bag of rice and flour outside, and put the rest away.

"Take this bag of rice to Grandpa," Jiang Lan said.

Cheng Erniang nodded.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

As Jiang Lan carried the bag of rice over, she saw her grandfather, Jiang Laogen, sitting on the doorstep smoking a pipe in the distance.

When Jiang Laogen saw him, he almost dropped his pipe.

Jiang Lan approached, placed the rice bag on the stone stool by the door, and then took out a cloth bag from her bosom, placing it next to the rice bag. The cloth bag was small, but heavy; one could tell what was inside without even opening it.

Jiang Laogen stared at the cloth bag, his eyelids twitching.

"Grandpa," Jiang Lan called out.

Jiang Laogen stood up, his lips trembling several times before he managed to squeeze out, "You're back?"

"I'm back."

"Come in, come in," Jiang Laogen called out as he turned and entered the house. "Second brother! Boil some water! Make some tea!"

When Madam He peeked out from the kitchen and saw Jiang Lan, her expression changed several times—awkwardness, guilt, and a hint of barely suppressed jealousy.

She forced a smile: "Ah Lan is here..." and then withdrew it.

Jiang Dazhuang came out of the house, his smile more like a grimace: "Alan, you...you sit down."

Jiang Lan didn't sit down. He stood in the courtyard, his gaze fixed on the pile of things. Jiang Laogen followed his gaze and also saw the cloth bag; the smile on his face slowly faded.

"Grandpa," Jiang Lan's voice wasn't loud, but each word was clear, "this is the remaining seventeen taels, plus interest, a total of twenty taels. Please count it."

The courtyard was quiet for a moment.

Jiang Dazhuang's smile froze completely, and He Shi also peeked halfway out from the kitchen doorway, her eyes fixed on the cloth bag.

Jiang Laogen looked at Jiang Lan, his lips moved a few times as if he wanted to say something, but something seemed to be stuck in his throat.

"Alan," his voice was hoarse like sandpaper rubbing against wood, "this money... Grandpa gave it to you back then, for..."

"I know," Jiang Lan interrupted him. "You gave it to me, and I accepted it. Now I'm returning it to you; please keep it."

His tone was calm, not out of spite, nor to draw a line, but more like he was simply doing what needed to be done. Money borrowed must be repaid; that's the rule. Interest should be added; that's a favor. He didn't want to owe anyone anything, nor did he want anyone to think he had forgotten his roots.

Jiang Laogen stretched out his hand, but stopped in mid-air without touching the cloth bag.

"Alan, Grandpa was... sorry for you back then."

When he said those words, his voice changed, carrying an indescribable tremor.

Guilt. It's the kind of guilt that's been buried deep in my heart for many years, a guilt I've never been able to express.

Jiang Lan looked at him and remained silent for two seconds.

"I'm not sorry," he said. "You gave your share to your cousin; that was your choice. I don't resent it."

"But the money still needs to be repaid," he added, his tone still flat.

Jiang Laogen finally reached out and picked up the cloth bag. He weighed it in his hand; it wasn't heavy, twenty taels of silver felt light in his pocket, but it felt heavy in his hand, making it hard for him to breathe.

Madam He stood at the kitchen door, her expression complex. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but Jiang Dazhuang glared at her, stopping her.

"Grandpa, I have something to do, I'll be going now." Jiang Lan turned around.

"Eat before you go! Your second aunt has made it—" Jiang Laogen hurriedly said.

"No."

Jiang Lan walked out of the courtyard without stopping. Jiang Laogen followed him to the door, leaning against the doorframe, watching his figure disappear into the alley. He was still clutching the cloth bag tightly in his hand, his knuckles white.

Madam He came out of the kitchen, stood behind him, and whispered, "Father, does Jiang Lan... hold a grudge against us?"

Jiang Laogen didn't answer. He lowered his head, opened the cloth bag, and the silver inside was neatly stacked, twenty taels, no more, no less.

There was a slip of paper under the silver ingot, on which were written four words: "Principal and interest."

The characters are Jiang Lan's; each stroke is neat and upright.

Jiang Laogen folded the note and tucked it into his robes, pressing it against his heart. He put the silver away, untouched. He knew he shouldn't accept the money, but he also knew that if he didn't, Jiang Lan wouldn't be able to get over that hurdle in her heart.

I've accepted it; we're even now.

If you don't accept it, you'll owe it forever.

He squatted for a long time until his legs went numb, then he slowly stood up, leaning against the wall for support. His pipe fell to the ground, and as he bent down to pick it up, his back got stuck halfway down, causing him to wince in pain.

He reached out to help him, but he shook her off.

"From now on," Jiang Laogen's voice was hoarse, "don't bother Alan. Don't inquire about his affairs, don't discuss them, and don't get involved with him."

Thanks to this bloodline, the Jiang family can still enjoy some benefits; if they don't know when to advance and anger Jiang Lan, then everything will be over.

Looking at the ashen and desperate faces of her second son and daughter-in-law, a huge sense of loss and regret welled up in her heart.

……

The chickens in the yard were pecking at the grains of rice on the ground, one peck at a time, slowly and deliberately.

Jiang Lan returned to the wrecked boat, where Cheng Erniang had already prepared the meal. The fish was stewing in the pot, bubbling away, and there was a dish of pickled vegetables and a bowl of white porridge on the stove.

"Have you eaten?" Cheng Erniang asked.

"no."

"Then eat quickly." She ladled out a bowl of porridge and handed it to me, then put a piece of fish in the bowl.

Jiang Lan held her bowl, took a couple of bites, and suddenly said, "Mom, let's go look at houses in a couple of days."

Cheng Erniang stopped eating: "Looking at houses?"

"Let's move to town. Reed Bay is too remote, unsafe, and inconvenient. Many of the brothers' families from the martial arts school live in town, which is better than here."

Cheng Erniang was silent for a while. She had lived in this dilapidated house for twenty years, ever since she married into the family. She wasn't a materialistic person, but she knew her son was right.

"Okay, I'll do as you say," she said.

"Don't worry about the money," Jiang Lan said. "Although Wu Xiucai's salary isn't much, it's enough for my daughter and me to live on."

Cheng Erniang nodded, lowered her head and ate a mouthful of rice, not letting Jiang Lan see her eyes.

Jiang Lan ate a few more bites and then put the bowl down.

"Mother, if anyone brings you gifts these next few days, just accept them. Keep a record of it, and you can pay them back later."

Cheng Erniang nodded: "This morning, Song Kui came by and brought two bolts of coarse cloth and ten catties of flour. He said it was Chief Huo's idea. He also said..." She paused, "and that you can focus on your acupoint cultivation, and he'll keep an eye on things outside."

Jiang Lan nodded.

Cheng Erniang took out a small cloth bag from her bosom and handed it to Jiang Lan. The bag was heavy; when she opened it, she found loose silver and some copper coins.

"These are red envelopes from my neighbors; I've been saving them. You can take them home and use them."

Jiang Lan didn't take it: "Keep it."

"I don't need it. There's rice and flour on the boat, it won't cost much. It's different for you outside, you have to entertain guests and make arrangements, don't be stingy." Cheng Erniang stuffed the cloth bag into his hand and squeezed his fingers tightly.

Jiang Lan looked down at the cloth bag and didn't push it anymore.

After finishing her meal, Jiang Lan sat on the rooftop to digest. The moon peeked out from behind the clouds, casting its light on the murky waters of Reed Bay, shimmering like scattered silver. In the distance, someone was hauling in their nets; the dull thud of bamboo poles striking the side of the boat echoed through the air.

After Cheng Erniang finished clearing away the dishes, she came out and sat down next to him.

The two remained silent for a while.

"Alan," Cheng Erniang suddenly called to him.

"Um?"

"You paid back your grandfather's money...?"

"It's paid back. Twenty taels, including principal and interest."

After a moment of silence, Cheng Erniang sighed softly, "Your grandfather is not well-off. Those twenty taels must have been saved up for many years."

"I know," Jiang Lan said, "That's why I paid him back. He gave it to me, I paid him back, and we're even."

Cheng Erniang glanced at him sideways. In the moonlight, her son's profile looked more defined than when he left home, his jawline more pronounced. She suddenly realized that this child had truly grown up.

"If your father were still alive," she said, "he would be happy too."

Jiang Lan didn't reply. He looked at the water, where the moonlight made the ripples shimmer.

The wind rustled the reeds. In the distance, the oil lamp on the dock was still lit, its flame flickering in the wind.

He touched the roll of brown paper in his pocket.

Starting tomorrow, I will seriously practice acupoint massage.

Six acupoints, seven acupoints, one step at a time.