When the localized seven-day sunshine dome over Harvest Plaza gently opened back into real time, the three billion citizens of Worlds #8. Moreover, #9 Blinked in astonishment at the young man walking down the steps of the bell-tower.
Gone were the shredded black feather trench coat, the runny black eyeliner, the white rice-flour face powder, and the raspy gravel-gargling voice.
In their place walked a healthy, rosy-cheeked eighteen-year-old young man with neatly combed hair. Wearing Captain Grandma Liu’s Bright-Red Golden-Puppy Wool Sweater with the sleeves rolled up, carrying a repair toolbox in one hand and a basket of freshly steamed pumpkin buns in the other!
Walking straight up to seventy-eight-year-old Elder Lin in front of the live planetary cameras, eighteen-year-old Ye Ming set down his toolbox and bowed at a full ninety-degree angle. Finally, His forehead nearly touched his knees.
“Grandpa Lin!” Ye Ming spoke in a clear, resonant, polite young baritone—completely cured of his throat rasp by Auntie Qin and Su Nuannuan’s honey-loquat syrup. “I’m deeply sorry for blowing up Stall #3’s porcelain toilet with a Double-Bang Firecracker ten years ago.
I’m even sorrier for acting like an ungrateful brat and covering both planets in fake coal-smoke for the past three months! I already bought a brand-new spirit-porcelain toilet to install in Stall #3 this afternoon—and I’m ready to accept whatever punishment the Lantern-Keeper Clan and Immortal Master Gu give me!”
