001 Attribute Panel Activated

Golden October.

Chen Anquan sat on the jolting, old rural bus, staring out the window, utterly motionless, as if he were a sculpture that had long since turned to stone.

A black backpack was slung over his shoulders, and he gripped a suitcase with his right hand.

The backpack straps near his shoulders were worn through, exposing the white fabric beneath. The zippers on both sides of the suitcase were already rusty.

For Chen Anquan, who had come from the countryside, such things hardly mattered; as long as they were usable, that was enough.

Right now, his mind was preoccupied with thoughts of the twist of fate that was the system he’d acquired.

Last week, he’d helped a patient with cervical spondylosis by performing a neck massage. Afterward, the doctor had asked him to do a cervical adjustment. Because there was no X-ray, Chen Anquan was reluctant. But the doctor warned him that the hospital had already collected the fee for the adjustment; no matter what, the procedure had to be done.

So, with reluctance, he gently twisted the patient’s neck.

The result was disastrous. The patient’s neck broke, and he was later transferred to the city hospital for cervical surgery. It seemed the patient could no longer move his limbs.

In the end, Chen Anquan was fired and had his medical license revoked, while the doctor walked away unscathed.

In his mind, Chen Anquan opened his attribute panel and looked at the plain numbers lined up, sighing inwardly:

Name: Chen Anquan
Age: 24
Strength: 1.2
Agility: 1
Spirit: 1
Constitution: 0.8
Unused attribute points: 0.01

Suddenly, an old woman behind him, gripping the seat in front with both hands, sized him up and patted him gently on the shoulder.

Chen Anquan turned to look at the unfamiliar old woman.

She spoke in her local dialect: “Young man, where are you from? What brings you here?”

This was a rural bus, running only on market days or when students went home for the weekend. Passengers were few, and the old lady knew most of them.

“My hometown is Ao Bei,” he replied.

The old woman responded with an “Oh,” then said, “You must have been living outside all this time. No wonder I don’t recognize you.”

They chatted sporadically for dozens of minutes. Chen Anquan didn’t particularly want to talk, but the old woman was persistent.

After she got off, another five or six minutes passed before the bus reached its terminal—Ao Bei Village.

As the name implied, Ao Bei was a place where people bent their backs to toil; the villagers here spent their lives with their faces to the earth and their backs to the sky.

However, with new roads and utilities now reaching every village, even this remote mountain hamlet had seen a marked improvement in living conditions.

After consulting the driver about the bus schedule, Chen Anquan got off.

He distinctly remembered that it had been eight years since he last returned home.

Eight years was neither long nor short, but the Ao Bei Village that now greeted his eyes was completely transformed.

Most striking were the many tall, Western-style houses.

In his memory, there had only been mud and brick homes here; at best, a one- or two-story brick house, and the exterior walls didn’t even have cement plaster.

Steadying himself, Chen Anquan thought of the old house his grandfather had left him. He hoped it hadn’t been rebuilt, as long as it was still habitable.

Relying on his recollection, Chen Anquan walked along what used to be a gravel path toward the small village.

“I remember these two ponds used to be filthy and foul, with mud everywhere.”

He had just entered Ao Bei when he saw the two large, adjacent ponds in the village.

Now, though the water was not exactly clean, there was no longer trash like bottles, cans, slippers, or sanitary napkins floating on the surface.

At least, one could now see the muddy bottom.

Walking on the concrete path by the pond, Chen Anquan set his suitcase down and placed his hands on a marble lion atop the white railing, gazing into the distance.

There stood the house his late grandfather had left him.

However, his view was blocked by a three-story house built by his second uncle beside the pond—a structure resembling a wartime bunker.

So, Chen Anquan couldn’t see what his home looked like now.

At that moment, a woman carrying two baskets walked past. She assumed Chen Anquan was an outsider and didn’t greet him.

He withdrew his gaze, gripped his suitcase handle, and continued along the pond.

At the far end of the pond, he reached the spot where his second uncle’s house once stood. Now it was a single-story house, with unplastered walls and no tiles.

In his memory, his uncle’s place had been a mud-brick house. At least now it was somewhat improved, even if compared to the surrounding four- or five-story villa-like buildings, it still fell a bit short.

He also saw his grandfather’s house, separated from his uncle’s by just one of these new Western-style homes. It was still the old mud-brick house.

Suddenly, he realized that a basketball court had been built right in front of his grandfather’s house!

It seemed the front yard had been taken over by this court.

Chen Anquan didn’t hurry over to his grandfather’s house but instead stopped outside the gate of his uncle’s yard.

The two rusty iron doors, not very sturdy, were closed and locked, signaling that no one was home.

He stood at the entrance, set his suitcase by the low wall, and began to wait for his uncle’s family to return.

It wasn’t that he planned to stay with them, but he hadn’t lived here for years, and the keys to his grandfather’s house were kept by his uncle’s family.

“Hey, young man!”

At that moment, a plump woman from next door called out to him.

After all, a young man with a backpack and suitcase showing up at someone’s door would make anyone wonder if a family member had returned.

But there was a problem: no one in the family matched his appearance.

“Auntie,” Chen Anquan greeted her politely.

She was a little taken aback, clearly not expecting such manners.

“Why are you standing here? Who are you?”

“I’m at my second uncle’s house.”

“Second uncle?” she muttered, and then suddenly understood. “You’re the one your grandfather raised by himself, Chen An...”

“Chen Anquan.”

“Yes! Why have you come back?”

“I’m just here to stay for a few days.”

The woman replied with an “Oh,” then continued, “Your uncle’s family is out working in the fields. They’ll be back later. Why don’t you come sit at my place?”

“Thank you,” Chen Anquan declined politely.

“Or I could call them and ask them to come back?”

Chen Anquan smiled awkwardly and waved his hand. “No need, thank you.”

He wasn’t familiar with this neighbor—after all, he had hardly ever lived in Ao Bei Village.