The words left Grandpa Meng's mouth, but his heart was as turbulent as a storm, unable to calm down.
Could the "small world" that Ci'er spoke of be what was described in the ancient books?
He remembered many years ago, he was still the unwanted second young master of the Duke's Mansion. He hadn't passed the Jinshi examination yet, and he hadn't left the Duke's Mansion.
It was almost New Year's, and feeling lonely, he sneaked out the back door for a stroll. He accidentally stumbled upon an old bookstall and found an ancient book, which described a small world.
Unfortunately, the ancient book was incomplete and damaged, with many parts lost. He could only see a small portion.
Back then, he was young, and even a small portion was read with great relish.
Years flashed by. He had long since left the Duke's Mansion, and the ancient book had vanished to who knows where.
Fu Xin Ci watched her grandfather's expression change continuously, her gaze filled with nostalgia for his youth.
A thought suddenly arose in her mind: her grandfather seemed to know about the so-called small world she was talking about.
She had no idea where her grandfather had learned about it, but she could let her grandfather personally experience the existence of this small world.
Fu Xin Ci listened carefully to the sounds around her. Seeing that no one was approaching, she supported her grandfather's arm and entered the space.
Grandpa Meng tried hard to sort through his memories, attempting to piece together the small world, like a paradise, described in the ancient book he saw in his youth.
However, the memories were too distant, and the ancient book was incomplete. His efforts were always hindered by too many missing parts, ultimately failing to form the grand vision in his heart.
Just as Grandpa Meng's disappointment reached its peak, his vision blurred, and the withered scenery around him instantly transformed into lush, green fields beneath their feet.
"Ci'er?" Grandpa Meng truly thought he was seeing things due to old age, or perhaps his obsession was too deep, and he was hallucinating.
"Grandfather, everything you see is real. This is the small world gifted to your granddaughter by an old immortal."
"Really?" This time, Grandpa Meng didn't doubt it. Instead, like a child, he asked the most innocent question.
"Grandfather, it's real. Everything here is real."
Only after receiving a definitive answer from his granddaughter did Grandpa Meng wear an expression of "as expected."
He slowly crouched down and gently stroked the wheat seedlings that had grown to his ankles, remaining silent for a long time.
He needed to slowly digest everything he was seeing, which was slightly different from the descriptions in his ancient book.
Fu Xin Ci felt a pang of anxiety as her grandfather remained silent. She was afraid that she had overstimulated him, and if anything were to happen to him, she wouldn't be able to explain it to her father, nor would she forgive herself.
Alas, she should have thought more about it. Grandfather was a pure traditional person.
Unlike modern people, who read many novels and have wild imaginations, they wouldn't be surprised by strange things.
Upon this realization, Fu Xin Ci felt an even deeper sense of guilt.
She didn't know how much time had passed, and Fu Xin Ci was almost buried by her guilt towards her grandfather.
Then she finally heard her grandfather's voice, filled with a smile, asking her, "Ci'er, is this the confidence you once told Grandfather about, that we will never go hungry again?"
Finally hearing his grandfather's voice, Fu Xin Ci replied without thinking, "Not entirely."
Grandpa Meng was puzzled. Not entirely? What did that mean? He then saw his granddaughter bring him to another place.
If the place he saw before was a field, this should be a very, very large warehouse.
Looking at the dazzling array of rare items and food, Grandpa Meng's eyes immediately fixated on the bottles of purified water.
"Ci'er, this is the water we drank on our way to Liaodong."
"Yes."
Grandpa Meng picked up a bottle of purified water and examined it endlessly. It could be said that he was amazed by everything here.
After Grandpa Meng had roughly surveyed everything in the warehouse, he spoke earnestly, advising his granddaughter.
"Ci'er, this small world gifted to you by an old immortal is the futile dream of countless mortals. Therefore, Ci'er must protect this secret well. Besides Grandfather, you must not tell anyone."
"Grandfather, not even Mother and Father?"
"Not even your parents," Grandpa Meng thought about having grandchildren and great-grandchildren in the future, which further solidified his earlier statement.
Fu Xin Ci had no intention of telling her parents anyway, so she obediently nodded.
Seeing his granddaughter agree, Grandpa Meng reluctantly looked around the place one last time before asking his granddaughter to send him out.
He feared that if he stayed any longer, he would be even more reluctant to leave.
The next day, the grandfather and granddaughter set out early with their donkey cart. They returned at noon, their donkey cart loaded high with bean stalks, resembling a small mountain.
Although they were tied securely with ropes, due to the swaying of the donkey cart, no one dared to approach. They were afraid the bean stalks might fall and crush them.
Others not daring to approach did not mean everyone was afraid. Old Master Meng the Fifth was an exception.
From afar, he rushed towards his second brother, continuously chattering, "Second Brother, where did you get all these bean stalks? If you have any extra, can you help your brother bring some back too?"
"Mm, if there are any extras, I'll help you bring some," Grandpa Meng was willing to give face to this sensible fifth cousin.
When the grandfather and granddaughter returned from outside with their donkey cart that afternoon, they were caught by Master Meng the Thirteenth.
Master Meng the Thirteenth's eyes were glued to the bundles of sorghum stalks, unable to look away.
Grandpa Meng inwardly grumbled: "Look at him." Later, in his kindness, he unloaded a cart of sorghum stalks at the doorstep of the Thirteenth's family.
The next evening, Master Meng the Thirteenth personally carried a mat to Grandpa Meng, repeatedly saying it was specially woven for his second brother.
Uncharacteristically, Grandpa Meng did not express any disdain and readily accepted it, directly laying it on the large kang in the east room.
After sending off the pleased Thirteenth, Grandpa Meng carefully reached out and touched the mat woven by Thirteenth's own hands.
"I must say, Thirteenth's craftsmanship is better than the mats bought in town."
Fu Yu walked in from outside and sat beside his father, echoing his father's sentiment, "Uncle Thirteenth's craftsmanship is indeed excellent. Not only the Meng family members recognize his woven items, but people in the garrison and the villages in front also acknowledge Uncle Thirteenth's weaving."
After speaking, Fu Yu sniffed and asked, "Father, do you smell a faint scent of grass and wood?"
"Ah, if Yu'er hadn't mentioned it, Father wouldn't have noticed."
As father and son spoke, they also searched for the source of the faint grass and wood scent.
Grandpa Meng suddenly thought of the origin of the sorghum stalks used to weave the mats. He bent down and smelled the faint scent of grass and wood.