"Grandpa Wei, what flowers do you like? I’ll grow a couple of nice ones for you. Expanding isn’t an option right now, I don’t have the energy." Yang Jiabo was afraid the little fleeceflower would haunt his dreams in protest.
"What a shame." Grandpa Wei sighed. "By the way, can you grow saffron?"
Yang Jiabo froze - this was getting off-track. "The climate back home isn’t ideal for saffron. I’m not sure if it’ll grow, but I can try."
Yang Jiabo knew saffron was highly valuable, the best quality could sell for tens of thousands per kilogram. It was excellent for promoting blood circulation and was a prized spice. But the abysmal yield discouraged him.
"Jiajia, you seem very knowledgeable about medicinal herbs," Grandpa Wei remarked.
Yang Jiabo smiled sheepishly. "I’ve done some research. At first, I wanted to grow herbs, but I’m lazy and love food, so I ended up with fruits and vegetables instead."
Grandpa Wei: "The fruits from your farm are incredibly sweet and juicy, it’s hard to find anything that good on the market. Jiajia, would growing saffron be too much trouble for you?"
"It’s not trouble, but I can’t grow much by myself, don’t expect high yields."
"Jiajia, it’s such a waste that you’re not growing medicinal herbs." Grandpa Wei sighed regretfully.
"I’m stretched too thin. If I hire help, the quality will drop. Grandpa Wei, is someone in the family sick and in need of medicine?"
"Yes, your Grandma Wei’s rheumatism is getting worse. I heard saffron-infused wine helps. Since the herbs you grow are far more potent than what’s on the market, I thought of you. But I’ve been too embarrassed to ask, it feels like too much trouble."
"It’s no trouble. My dad might need it someday too, I’ll start experimenting when I get back."
"Wonderful! I’ll have your Uncle Wei get you the best saffron bulbs." Grandpa Wei was delighted.
Wei Jing and Yang Jiabo spent two hours in the yard planting the flowers Yang Jiabo had brought. Most were for sale, with only a few reserved as gifts. Yang Jiabo charmed the Wei grandparents so thoroughly that they treated him like their own grandson.
That night, back at Wei Jing’s apartment, Yang Jiabo sat by the floor-to-ceiling window, admiring the city lights. Wei Jing took two cans of beer from the fridge, opened one, and handed it to Yang Jiabo.
"I had no idea you were so good with elders, you had them chatting about everything from life in the 1950s to geriatric care." Wei Jing was impressed, it was the first time he felt he didn’t truly know Yang Jiabo.
"It’s nothing. Just listen to them reminisce for a while, and you’ll pick it all up. Old folks love talking about the past."
Wei Jing sat down, took a sip of beer, and finally asked, "Now, out with it, why did you suddenly come to Beijing?"
Yang Jiabo said defensively, "Can’t I just be here for vacation?"
"With your personality, you hate inconveniencing others. Normally, you’d call me first, set a time, and then come. Something must’ve happened."
"Are you a mind reader?" Yang Jiabo couldn’t even argue.
"What happened?" Wei Jing pressed.
"There’s something I can’t figure out, it’s been bothering me." Yang Jiabo said.
"What is it?" Wei Jing found this strange.
"Let me pose two hypothetical lives, tell me which one you’d choose. The first: living disabled and in poverty, mocked and scorned by others, but with a wife and child. The second: finding your life’s purpose, but dying a heroic death in your prime, remembered as a hero."
"The way you’ve framed these two lives is too simplistic. In the first one, are the couple happy? Is the child filial? And in the second, did the hero have regrets? Someone he couldn’t bear to leave behind?"
"The marriage was unhappy, they were practically enemies. The wife raised the child alone and didn’t let him be involved, so the child was closer to her. The hero was a soldier who loved the army, he died saving others..." Yang Jiabo briefly summarized Li Wen’s two vastly different lives.
After listening, Wei Jing said decisively, "If it were me, I’d choose the second one."
"Why? Once you’re dead, there’s nothing left. The other option might’ve been poor, but at least the family was together." Yang Jiabo didn’t understand.
"The issue isn’t poverty, it’s that he lived without meaning, just numbly going through each day, surviving for the sake of survival. Jiajia, you already have the answer in your heart, don’t you? Now, tell me what’s going on."
"Remember my cousin, Li Wen, the one I asked your dad to help enlist?" Yang Jiabo asked.
"I remember. You talked about him often, he sent wild pheasants, quail, and other game to our house. I never tried any, but my mom raved about it. Did something happen to him?"
Yang Jiabo: "He died saving people during a disaster relief mission. We just held his funeral."
"Yang Jiabo, you’re unbelievable." Wei Jing glared at him, teeth clenched. "What happened to calling me if something happened, huh?"
"I came to tell you in person, what more do you want?" Yang Jiabo argued. At the time, Wei Jing had been swamped, barely calling, and when he did, it was just small talk, lbso Yang Jiabo hadn’t brought it up.
"Fine, I won’t argue with you." Wei Jing was too exasperated to press further. "So the two lives you described earlier, one of them was his?"
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