Chapter Twenty: The Deal

A voice as ancient and profound as a great bell echoed slowly, as though spanning the endless ages of time.

“I do not know the reason myself. I only know that after creating written language, the world before my eyes became inexplicably vivid and three-dimensional. Vaguely, I sensed an immense and boundless gaze fixed upon me.”

Hearing this ancient voice thunder in his mind, the old ape hurried to respond. His voice trembled—not from fear, but from a deep, heartfelt excitement.

For over three centuries, he had called out in his heart more than once, yet never received an answer. Now, that supreme being had finally responded, acknowledging all he had done.

“So that is how it is.”

Observing the figure below, smaller than a speck of dust, Fang Zhuowei raised his eyebrows. Their minds were as one, and in an instant, he understood the cause.

It was simple.

After the old ape had created the written word, he had earned Fang Zhuowei’s high praise—an act that was, in essence, recognition. Having received such acknowledgement, even without Fang Zhuowei’s direct manifestation, the old ape could still sense a trace of his aura.

“I once bestowed upon you five elixirs of immortality. You have only taken three—why not consume the remaining two as well?” Fang Zhuowei spoke again.

This voice was audible only to him and the old ape, spoken in the tongue of the ancient apes. As their creator, he could instantly master the language of any race he had fashioned.

“My life’s purpose has been to spread the written word, to sow the seeds of wisdom among my people. Now, my task is complete. I have no further attachments; life and death to me are but fleeting moments. To use the remaining two sacred elixirs on myself would be wasteful; it is better to aid others in true need…”

Kneeling before the goji tree, the old ape spoke with utmost humility.

His greatest mission in life had been to propagate language; his deepest regret was never having received Fang Zhuowei’s recognition. Now, both his mission and regret were resolved. He was entirely content, with no further desires.

Fang Zhuowei said nothing more. Everything was clear; further words would only be superfluous.

He waved his hand gently.

An invisible, colossal hand softly supported the old ape’s heavy body.

Bathed in warmth as radiant as the blazing sun, a faint smile slowly appeared on the old ape’s face, like a solitary wild goose finally finding its long-remembered nest.

His voice grew ever fainter, until at last, in the corner of his vision, it was silenced forever.

“Your people will forever remember all you have done, regardless of the cost. Your glory shall never fade!”

Fang Zhuowei drew a deep breath, pursing his lips, his expression tinged with solemnity. Even in his final moments, the old ape burned with every last spark of his being, shining with all his might.

Such a life, no matter how small, was deserving of respect.

…

News of the old ape’s death was not kept secret for long; soon, it was discovered by other passing members of the tribe.

On that day, word spread, shaking the entire ancient ape clan.

The tragic news stirred countless apes; those who revered the old ape came in endless streams to take part in the funeral rites.

His funeral was grand, a sea of voices rising up in remembrance.

Many elders stood before the old ape’s portrait, telling their offspring, with deep emotion, the stories of his life, expressing their grief.

The whole ancient ape clan spared no effort, gathering twelve of the most learned among them after the old ape, to record his many great deeds in writing beside his clay effigy.

“The First Teacher was born in the most chaotic and ignorant age of the tribe. By his strength alone, he led his people to master the power of wisdom. No longer were they foolish; even young children could open their minds, discerning fortune from misfortune…”

“The First Teacher’s achievements are eternal.”

“In his final moments, the First Teacher left behind four words of truth: ‘Revere the True Lord.’”

They sang hymns in his honor, composing epic verse, so that his glory would be forever recorded, etched into the very blood of every ancient ape.

Three days later.

The old ape was buried beside the goji tree. On the day of his burial, even the most mischievous children wept bitterly, their cries lingering endlessly…

“Year 383 of the Annals of the Primordial Apes: The old ape, who devoted his life to the tribe, passed away before the blooming sacred plant. On that day, children mourned in unison; on that day, strange omens filled the sky, and the rain fell ceaselessly for days…”

The writing complete.

Setting down his notebook, Fang Zhuowei picked up a watering can he had just filled and pressed the spout gently over a peculiar rock.

In an instant.

A mist of water fell, vapor swirling and descending, soaking into the black earth atop the rock, and suddenly, a torrential rain poured down.

The fall of a great one should be marked by distinction.

“Ring, ring, ring…”

As he watered, Fang Zhuowei’s phone suddenly rang from his pocket, displaying a number he didn’t recognize.

Raising his eyebrows, he set the watering can aside, hesitated briefly, then answered the call.

“Hello, this is the town’s Land Management Office. May I speak to Mr. Fang Zhuowei?”

Upon answering, a slightly gruff voice came through at once.

“This is Fang Zhuowei. Oh… are you here to measure the area?” Fang Zhuowei quickly responded, recalling the matter.

He had recently inquired at the town about the price of a mountain plot. They had said they would send someone to measure the area within three days; he hadn’t expected them to be so prompt—less than two days, in fact.

“Yes, Mr. Fang. I’m at your doorstep now. Are you available?”

“Yes, I’ll be right there.” After locking the door to the room with the fish tank, Fang Zhuowei hurried toward the front gate.

The surveyor was a young man who dispensed with pleasantries. Upon learning which mountain it was, he immediately set off with his equipment.

“Mr. Fang, the measurement is complete. The total is 135 mu of land, with an additional 30 mu of rocky area. All together, that’s 165 mu.”

After a while, the surveyor handed Fang Zhuowei several fresh reports.

“According to our town’s pricing, rocky areas aren’t counted—they’re considered complimentary. So you only pay for the 135 mu of arable land. Would you like to rent or buy?” The young surveyor handed over the reports with a warm smile, eager to conclude the deal and earn a nice commission.

“If I were to buy, how much would it be exactly?”

Fang Zhuowei raised his eyebrows slightly.

A hundred mu would be sixty thousand yuan at the flat rate, but what about the extra thirty-five mu? Surely they wouldn’t just give him that for free.

“Our standard rate is sixty thousand yuan per hundred mu of fertile land. For the excess, it’s five thousand yuan for every five mu; less than five mu is counted as five. The prices are all clearly listed here—you can take a look.”

Fang Zhuowei glanced over the papers, confirming that the details matched what the young man had said.