Chapter 48: The Air of Mystery Must Always Be Maintained!

By the campfire, Li Shixin wove together the old man’s memories of *Walden* with his own insights, and by the time he finished explaining the essence of the book’s philosophy, it was nearly eight o’clock.

At night, the landfill, far removed from the clamor of the city, felt desolate beyond words.

Although most of the homeless gathered there hadn’t fully understood what Li Shixin had been saying, even long after he finished, no one left.

“Old man, tell us something else, will you?” The burly fellow, who had understood almost nothing, simply found Li Shixin’s words captivating and pleaded for more.

Watching the fire flicker before him, Li Shixin stifled a yawn.

He’d walked too much these past few days, and this old body of his still felt weary.

Seeing the big man’s look of yearning, he shook his head. “I’ve been telling you stories for half the night—let this old man rest. Why don’t you all talk for a bit?”

The big man was momentarily stunned. He pointed at himself, looked around at his companions, and said awkwardly, “Us? There’s nothing interesting about us.”

Li Shixin tossed some more cardboard onto the flames and smiled. “Tell me about your past—how did you all end up here?”

“Oh, that’s a long story!” The big man rubbed his filthy, cracked hands on his trousers and fell silent for a while before telling the stories of everyone present.

He himself was from the northeast, born in a small village, too poor to afford much schooling. His mother died of illness when he was thirteen, and his stepmother treated him badly, so he left with some villagers to find work elsewhere.

But, lacking an education, he was duped into a scam ring as soon as he reached the city. When the authorities broke up the operation, he didn’t go home; he drifted from city to city, picking up odd jobs, always rejected for being too young or uneducated, until he eventually took up scavenging. This line of work had no fixed place—over the course of several years, he drifted through five or six cities before ending up in Rongdian.

The others, he explained, included those born with disabilities and left to fend for themselves, some who’d been abandoned by family and now wandered, and others suffering from mental illness.

The most pitiable was a man in his forties, nicknamed “Syringe,” who suffered from renal failure. Not wanting to burden his family, he ran away and now survived by collecting refuse, scraping together enough for occasional dialysis, though he spent most of his time simply waiting for the end.

As the big man spoke, Li Shixin carefully observed each person as they were introduced—their subtle expressions, their unconscious gestures—quietly sensing the unique misfortunes that lurked beneath their similar air of destitution.

Once the big man had finished introducing everyone, Li Shixin frowned and glanced at the small van parked not far from the bus.

He had noticed earlier: all the scavengers had come to the fire, except for the one who had brought him here the day before, who remained hidden inside the van, never showing himself.

“What about him?” Li Shixin nodded toward the van.

“You mean Stammer?” The big man curled his lip. “No idea what’s up with him. He’s been here over four months, barely says a word. If it weren’t for the noise he made when we beat him up, I’d have thought he was mute. But he’s a quiet sort—does whatever he’s told, never complains. Want me to call him out to chat with you, old man?”

Li Shixin’s brow furrowed as he gazed at the van, as silent as a tomb. He waved the suggestion away.

Just then, an excited, almost baboon-like howl erupted from the bus, startling everyone gathered by the fire.

“What the hell’s got into you?” the big man shouted toward the bus, annoyed.

With a clatter of footsteps, Li Erchun came running out, beaming, clutching Li Shixin’s shoulder and thrusting a phone at him.

“Old man! You’re famous! Look—my friend posted a video of your flute playing and oral teaching on Bilibili. In just over an hour, it’s already got over twenty thousand views and more than six thousand coins!”

“???” Li Shixin was dumbfounded. *Flute playing* he understood, but what on earth did he mean by *oral teaching*?

“What’s ‘oral teaching’?” Li Shixin asked, frowning.

“Well, as the name suggests, it’s teaching through words!” Li Erchun explained.

Li Shixin’s face darkened. What a master of language—what a waste you are, writing novels!

Almost as soon as the phone was thrust in front of him, a light chime sounded in Li Shixin’s mind.

Ding! Total applause received this period: 46,231 points!

So much?

He managed to keep his composure, but inside, he was deeply shaken by the windfall.

Forty-odd days of life—extended once more!

“Old man, you’re amazing! Tons of people are asking for your address, saying there’s wisdom among the common folk, that they want to come visit you, sponsor you, or send you money!”

Li Erchun’s excitement caught the attention of the other homeless men.

“What’s all the fuss about? What’s this about sponsors and money?” the big man asked, scratching his head.

“Oh! I posted what the old man was saying online. Lots of people want to send him money! Got it now?”

The big man was stunned. After a long pause, he slapped his thigh. “See! That’s what being educated gets you! Just a bit of flute music and stories at a landfill and people want to send you cash! Old man, you’ve got to teach me to read tomorrow! I want to better myself too!”

“Forget it! You’re hopeless, starting from zero!” Li Erchun brushed the big man aside like a fly, then turned to Li Shixin. “Old man, let’s record a video! Say something nice to your new fans—our chance to turn things around is here!”

Turn things around?

Li Shixin chuckled.

I was never down to begin with.

He gently pushed the phone away and smiled. “No. Just post a message for me, thanking everyone for their kindness, but tell them I’m doing just fine and don’t need any donations, nor do I want to be disturbed.”

“What?” Li Erchun and the big man stared in disbelief.

“Are you crazy, old man? People are lining up to give you money and you say no? Wouldn’t a roast chicken taste great?”

“Yeah, old man, are you out of your mind?”

Seeing their looks of regret and urgency, Li Shixin smiled.

“You’re both young. Do you know why people are interested in me?”

Everyone shook their heads.

“It’s because they’re curious—how could a ragged old man in a landfill know all these things? Get it?” Li Shixin smiled wryly. “But if they come here and the mystery is gone, then so is the interest.”

Li Erchun shook his head. “Old man...”

Li Shixin cut him off and, after a moment’s thought, gave an example: “It’s like when you write a novel. You have to hook the readers, leave them hanging at the end of every chapter. When they get to the part they most want to read, you cut it off! Make them feel like a thousand ants are crawling in their hearts, ten thousand kittens scratching at them, desperate for the next chapter. That’s how you keep them coming back, that’s how you become popular! Understand?”

“Oh! Oh!” Li Erchun’s eyes went wide with excitement and he slapped his thigh. “No wonder my books don’t get popular! Old man, you’re... you’re incredible!”

Li Shixin smiled mysteriously and waved his hand. “Go on, just do as I say.”

“Got it!”

Ecstatic, Li Erchun dashed back to the bus to connect to Wi-Fi and quickly posted Li Shixin’s statement.

On Bilibili.

When followers who’d been watching the “Scavenger Elder” videos all evening saw the newly posted “Statement from the Old Scavenger to His Supporters”...

The entire community exploded.