The day after arriving in Flower Country, Robert went to meet his grandfather. According to the terminology of the Corruption Country, he would be called his "grandfather," but in Flower Country, that would be his many-times-removed great-grandfather.
The old man was in remarkably good health and gave Robert a huge surprise as soon as they met.
"Dead... dead man!"
With a terrified scream echoing in the air, the Chen family members briefly panicked. They then looked toward the source of the sound, before lowering their heads and continuing with their tasks.
Sigh. The second ancestor of the Chen family was scaring the younger generation again.
This time, it was another descendant who had returned from some unknown country to offer sacrifices.
Inside the room, the elderly man and the young Robert stared at each other in surprise.
Robert had been terrified out of his wits when the body fell from the sky, bouncing twice on the ground. The corpse was fresh, clearly recently deceased.
"What the heck! I'm the first one on the scene here! If it's not Conan, then I must be the murderer!" Robert instinctively shouted.
However, no one came to check. After waiting for a while, Robert thought, "I can't let it just lie there on the ground. I should at least flip it over to see who's dead."
When he did so, he saw a pair of wide eyes staring back at him. The eyes blinked.
Robert paused for a moment, then focused again.
"Sh*t! It's a fake death!"
In shock, he dropped the body, but it didn't fall to the ground. Instead, it flipped mid-air and landed gracefully on the floor near him, like a leaf gently falling.
"Heh, you little brat. You almost broke my bones!" The corpse suddenly spoke, accusing Robert in a mischievous tone.
Robert noticed that the body's hair was gray, the skin taut and youthful in appearance, as if the person were a young man wearing a wig.
"You're my great-grandfather?" Robert cautiously asked, speaking directly in Chinese without using English.
The old man froze for a second, scratching his head. "Why aren't you following the usual script? I was hoping to show off some of my spiritual skills."
"Spiritual skills?" Robert repeated curiously.
"Well, that's not important." The old man casually walked up to Robert, kicked a chair out from the corner, and sat down. "Find yourself a seat."
Robert obediently grabbed a chair and sat across from the old man.
"I heard you joined a wizard school. Is it called Hogwarts?" The old man kindly asked.
Robert nodded.
"Ah, so the academy founded by those four old guys is still around," the old man sighed, smacking his lips. Then, suddenly, he slammed his fist on the table. "Damn it! Why is it that all those bastards died, but I can't seem to die? It's driving me crazy!"
Robert was completely baffled.
In this day and age, someone complaining about living too long?
Just then, the old man rolled up his sleeve, extended his hand toward Robert, and said, "Come on, give me your hand."
Without thinking, Robert extended his right hand, and the two stared at each other.
After a long pause, the old man sighed and said, "You've got some luck, huh?"
"Meow? Meow?" Robert blinked, utterly confused. What was he talking about?
The old man realized Robert didn't understand and slapped his forehead. "Ah, I forgot. You guys don't do things this way."
And then, Robert felt a warm current flowing through his body.
"Ah, I see. It's wood, huh?" The old man pinched his beard. "That's a good attribute for running wild in the wilderness."
Robert was even more confused. What in the world was the old man talking about?
"Don't understand?" The old man asked.
Robert nodded.
The old man slapped his thigh. "Well, of course, you don't understand. If you did, how could I show off my wisdom and grandeur?"
Robert was stunned. What kind of ancestor was this?
The old man muttered to himself, "Anyway, I just wanted to check which attribute you're more attuned to. I remember you guys have a similar system, right? Fire, water, air, earth, something like that?"
"By the way, your school sorting works the same way, doesn't it?" The old man rambled on. "And they say it's based on a person's character... what a load of nonsense."
Robert hesitantly raised his hand. "But that's what the professors say..."
The old man slowly asked, "How do they know?"
"Would you like some tea?"
"Uh, sure, thanks." Robert quickly responded.
Suddenly, a table with tea appeared in front of him. He was left wondering—was this summoning magic? Transformation? A flying charm?
The old man sipped his tea, visibly relaxed. He continued, "So, the professors tell you that the sorting is based on your character, huh?"
Robert nodded.
The old man grinned. "Well, let me tell you something—everyone in Gryffindor is a sneaky little schemer. Do you believe that?"
Robert was speechless. "Grandfather, you have quite the imagination."
"You see, you don't believe it. But what if I went to Gryffindor and taught everyone all the dirty tricks for getting ahead? Would they still be known for their courage?" The old man grinned slyly, like a fox.
Robert was even more confused. "Grandfather, what are you doing?"
"And that's why I say, dividing people by their character is just a scam," the old man whispered to himself, though Robert couldn't quite catch all the words.
Robert meekly raised his hand. "But we have the Sorting Hat..."
The old man waved his hand in front of Robert. "Look, these are the five fingers on a person's hand. Isn't the middle finger the longest?"
Robert nodded.
"This is the standard hand shape. Some people's ring fingers and middle fingers might be about the same length," the old man said, bending his middle finger. "Now, doesn't it seem like it's hard to distinguish?"
Robert hesitated, then nodded again.
"And that's exactly what the Sorting Hat is like," the old man explained. "The hat can't tell which attribute is more outstanding in a child, so it struggles to make a decision and takes longer to choose."
Robert felt that the old man's logic made sense, but he was still puzzled.
"But... all our lessons are the same," Robert weakly pointed out. "I don't feel like we're any different..."
The old man scratched his head. "Ah, well, let me give you an example you'll understand. The head of your Hufflepuff house is probably the best at herbology—definitely the best of the four house heads. The Gryffindor head probably excels in Transfiguration. The Slytherin head is probably the best at potions. And the Ravenclaw head is probably the best at charms.
"I remember you said you're from Hufflepuff. Didn't your head of house give you guys some special lessons? Maybe some extra herbs or potions? Or often remind you that Hufflepuff students should be honest, loyal, hardworking, and persistent?"
(End of Chapter)