Chen Xiao was fretting about not knowing the village roads when San Shuan offered to guide him home, leaving the ox untethered. He tied the large ox to a tree while the two calves obediently followed their mother, grazing on the grass.
San Shuan's face was flushed with excitement. Encountering his most accomplished cousin in the family was a rare delight. He chattered animatedly, answering questions Chen Xiao hadn't even asked yet, spilling everything he knew.
The original Hanwa had spent years traveling with trade caravans, rarely returning home. When he did, he would bring money, providing some temporary relief for San Shuan's family. To the boy, this cousin was a figure of admiration and heroism.
Some time ago, the caravan had sent word that Hanwa had been gravely injured and was recuperating in the county town. The family was deeply worried but couldn't afford the journey to visit him. They could only wait and hope.
Three months ago, Master Zhou Wu visited Hanwa and reported that he was recovering well and had found a respectable new job. This news brought relief to the family.
As for Master Zhou's claim that Hanwa's prolonged fever had left him with memory loss, forgetting everything about his past, his uncle and aunt weren't overly concerned. As long as Hanwa was alive, capable of earning a living, and able to sustain himself, they felt they had fulfilled their duty to his late parents.
San Shuan, however, couldn't understand what it meant to have one's mind "burned out." He worried incessantly that his cousin might become like the simpleton from the east side of the village, who laughed mindlessly, drooled, and endured endless bullying from the village rascals.
Once, San Shuan saw those same rascals trick the simpleton into eating cow dung, claiming it was millet cake. Without hesitation, the simpleton had taken a bite. The cow dung stank so much that even San Shuan, who had never seen millet cake before, knew it couldn't be the same. If he hadn't rushed in and slapped it away, the simpleton would have eaten it.
The thought of his cousin becoming like that haunted San Shuan. He barely slept, convinced that, as the eldest boy in his family, it was his responsibility to protect his cousin. If he ever had food, he'd make sure his cousin wouldn't go hungry, let alone fall victim to such cruel pranks.
While the adults in the family were too preoccupied with making ends meet to notice the boy's anxieties, Chen Xiao was touched by San Shuan's earnest concern. Having once been a child himself, struggling in a harsh world, Chen Xiao deeply sympathized with the boy's worries.
When San Shuan saw his cousin healthy and in good spirits, his joy was boundless.
Because of his childhood experiences, Chen Xiao held a soft spot for mature, caring children like San Shuan. He sincerely thanked the boy for his sense of duty and compassion, which only made San Shuan's face flush darker with pride and embarrassment.
The boy thought, Cousin looks even better than before, and he speaks so elegantly now—just like the son of the wealthiest family in the village. San Shuan's admiration for his cousin grew even stronger.
San Shuan led Chen Xiao across half the village, arriving at a farmhouse surrounded by a mud-brick wall at the edge of the settlement.
"Hanwa-ge, you go ahead inside," San Shuan said. "My dad won't be back until evening. It's just my mom and sister at home. You must be tired from your journey, so rest for a while. I need to get back to the mountain to check on the ox."
Chen Xiao entered the courtyard, where three mud-brick houses stood: a central building and two wings. The yard was spacious but untidy, with a chicken coop housing three hens. A quick glance revealed that the main house and the left wing were habitable, while the right wing seemed to be a combination of a kitchen and storage space.
Hearing San Shuan's voice, a woman with slightly disheveled hair wrapped in a dark-patterned headscarf stepped out. She was startled at first by the sight of Chen Xiao—an unfamiliar face that somehow seemed familiar.
Chen Xiao approached and greeted her with a respectful bow. "You must be Auntie. I'm Hanwa."
The woman, like San Shuan, was taken aback. She studied Chen Xiao from head to toe two or three times before daring to speak. "You really are Hanwa…" she murmured, her face suddenly warming as she added, "Hurry inside! Come in and sit!"
She rushed into the main house, and Chen Xiao, carrying his belongings, stepped up the two stairs and entered. The house resembled the rural homes from his previous life—compact and modest. The main room served as both a living room and dining area, flanked by two smaller rooms.
One of the rooms was covered by a cloth curtain, while the other had only a grass mat for privacy. Chen Xiao guessed the curtained room belonged to his aunt and uncle, but he couldn't determine who occupied the other.
Placing his bag on the worn table, Chen Xiao examined a chair to ensure it had all four legs before sitting down. He wasn't overly cautious; in poorer households, broken three-legged chairs were often patched with sticks and kept in use.
Auntie came out again, her hair now neatly combed, and her headscarf replaced with a brightly colored one. She warmly asked Chen Xiao, "You must be tired after traveling. Do you want to lie down in the house and rest for a bit?"
Chen Xiao replied politely, "I'm not tired. The ox cart ride was quite steady."
"Oh," Auntie said, nodding. She added, "Your uncle is working for the landlord right now. You can wait here while I go fetch him." She turned as if to leave.
Chen Xiao quickly stood up. "There's no need to fetch him. It's just a matter of a few hours. We're family—no need to be so formal." He opened the bundle he had placed on the table and said, "Auntie, don't be busy with chores. I brought some gifts from the county. See if you like them."
It wasn't that Auntie wanted to be overly polite; it was just that Chen Xiao's presence felt unfamiliar, making her a bit reserved. Hearing his words, she finally sat down at the table.
In the past, Hanwa would only send money when he returned, but bringing gifts was a first. Auntie found the snacks intriguing, but when she saw the fine cloth, her joy was evident.
Her only daughter was now fourteen and nearing marriageable age, spending her days doing embroidery work. The eldest son, San Shuan, had started herding cattle for the landlord, while the youngest, still a bit pampered, had learned to gather firewood in the mountains with the older children. With everyone's efforts, the family was close to paying off the debt for their house.
Because of this debt, even buying new clothes was a luxury. Clothes were usually passed down from the older children to the younger ones, patched and mended countless times.
Auntie ran her fingers over the fine cloth again and again, murmuring, "Hanwa, you're so thoughtful, so thoughtful."
Chen Xiao couldn't help but feel a little awkward. The nickname "Hanwa" had somehow evolved into an even more rustic-sounding version. Seeing Auntie so absorbed in examining the cloth, he cleared his throat lightly and said, "Auntie, I came back this time to handle an important matter—I need to update my name on the record."
Auntie looked up, surprised and unsure. "Now? Isn't it a bit early for that?"
Updating a name was a unique custom in rural areas of this world.
From birth, everyone was issued a name plaque—a small tag made of an unknown metal, roughly the size of a thumb. It could be worn on the body or kept at home. However, for long-distance travel, carrying the name plaque was mandatory, as it served as an official form of identification.
The plaque recorded the holder's name, birth year, physical features, and address. A duplicate of this information was stored in the local registry where the person was officially registered. This system was the foundation for managing household registrations.
Since a person's appearance changes significantly from childhood to adulthood, the physical description on the plaque wasn't permanent. It had to be updated periodically, though doing so required a fee. For poor families, this expense was often a burden, so many chose to delay updating their plaques.
While such delays were generally tolerated, they came with risks. If someone's appearance no longer matched their plaque during an official inspection, the plaque could be confiscated, and the person detained until their identity was verified.
For professions like Hanwa's, which involved constant travel with trade caravans, it was crucial to keep the plaque updated to avoid complications.
The most significant changes in appearance usually occurred around milestone ages like ten or twenty. After reaching adulthood, physical changes slowed, allowing for longer intervals—sometimes twenty or thirty years—between updates.
When Chen Xiao first learned about this system, he likened it to renewing an ID card, except it was voluntary here, whereas ID renewals were mandatory.
In many rural families, there was no one knowledgeable enough to choose a good name at birth, nor could they afford to hire a naming expert. Children were often given simple nicknames like "Doggie" or "Smelly," which sometimes stuck for life.
For those who later came up with a better name, milestone ages like ten or twenty provided an opportunity to officially update the name on their plaque, a process called "upgrading to a formal name."
Chen Xiao's return this time was partly to see the Immortal Sect members with his own eyes and partly to update his plaque.
Since Hanwa's family shared the surname Chen, he could simply change the name "Hanwa" on the plaque to "Xiao" and reclaim his proper name.