Transmigrated into a Grandpa, Embracing the Laid-Back Life

Chapter 55: The House Is About to Collapse

The festive atmosphere of the New Year was like a piece of window paper pierced by a cold gust of wind; on the surface, it still held a semblance of celebration, but its warmth had long since vanished. The ice and snow melted, revealing the dark brown mud beneath. A single step sank into its soft, sticky muck, clinging to shoes. The air was a mix of earthy dampness, the lingering scent of last year's withered grass, and a faint, almost imperceptible sour, rotting odor of alkaline-soaked materials drifting from the direction of the workshop.

The workshop in Su Family Village started belching smoke earlier than usual this year, its chimney spewing pale gray plumes day and night. The once-clear rhythmic chants and pounding sounds were no longer crisp; they seemed drained of their spirit by the damp, cold air, thudding dully against people's hearts, carrying far into the distance.

Everything was different. Even the old locust tree at the village entrance seemed to sprout buds later this spring. Its branches, black and stark, pointed accusingly at the sky, exuding an indescribable desolation.

Su Ming stood on the uneven stone threshold of his family's courtyard gate, gazing at the lingering dust and smoke swirling above the distant workshop. It looked like a grimy rag, impossible to wipe clean. On the village paths, villagers carrying tools hurried along with bowed heads, their spines bent as if weighed down by something. The lazy, idle look they used to have while squatting against walls and gossiping was gone, replaced by a weary, sluggish demeanor, as if tightly reined by invisible ropes. The dark circles under their eyes were heavier than those from staying up late during the New Year celebrations. When they encountered Zhao Dequan's two burly, hawk-eyed confidants, their backs would instinctively bend a little more, their faces squeezing out careful, almost fawning smiles, mumbling vague greetings.

That kind of smile made one's heart ache with a sour bitterness, more choking than swallowing cold water.

The Su Lai family was like a spatter of hot oil on a stove—a brief sizzle, then wiped away with a rag, leaving no trace. His wife had kowtowed in the snow for three days, the bruises on her forehead not yet faded. On the morning of the fourth day, she too vanished. In hushed whispers, some villagers speculated she had thrown herself into the deep pond behind the village; others said she had run mad into the old forest and been eaten by wolves. Their voices were low, their eyes evasive, not daring to delve deeper.

No one mentioned the matter openly anymore, as if this household had never existed in Su Family Village.

Su Ming's "Listening to Sounds" technique grew more proficient by the day. The grumbles lodged in the villagers' throats, the tremors hidden in their hearts, even the anxieties that made them toss and turn at night, causing their bed boards to creak—all these subtle threads escaped his perception, weaving into an invisible, heavy net that hung oppressively over the village.

"...Another ten coppers docked, they said the material waste was high. Heaven knows whose pocket it went into..."

it a little longer. When spring comes and those big merchants from the south arrive, we'll get our share of

and fear twisted into a thick rope, tethered to the heart of every person. The other end was firmly gripped in Zhao Dequan's hand. He didn't need to pull hard; a mere

smell that?" Lin Yu's voice abruptly cut through Su Ming's gloomy

gathered his focus, temporarily blocking out

was leisurely, yet it seemed to hide a hook. "The earth's energy is warming, the frozen ground is thawing. All the things that huddled through winter, whether burrowing in the earth or hiding in hearts, are about

grief, the resentment in this village is practically condensing into water. If it builds up any more, it might just ignite. Zhao Dequan plays the carrot-and-stick game well, but he can't stop the firewood piling up underneath. It just needs a single spark. This

and growing?" Su Ming sniffed the air. The wind did carry a hint of the fresh scent

first thing they do upon waking is look for food, regardless of whether it's fodder or the leg meat of their own kind. Hearts suppressed all winter are the same. The

his lips tightly together, his fingernails unconsciously digging into

fill empty bellies, let alone satiate the greedy beast deep within people's hearts. When the grand promises made by those "big merchants" were exposed as empty, or when Zhao

casually. "When do you plan to jump out of this shallow puddle, you little mudskipper? You can't just wait for the water to dry up and end up in the pot,

cloth shoes his mother had newly made for him. The tips were stained

for them, one with flowing, living water teeming with fish and shrimp. Not trapped together in this lowland that will inevitably dry up, waiting for the rain to stop, waiting for others to

us are going to be

he spoke, deep within Lin Yu's Soul Body, the spirit-concentrating array inscribed upon the ring's origin—the very thing sustaining

*Crack.*