This Body, I Only Borrowed for Three Years

Autumn 1998, Liuhe Forestry Farm stopped logging. One hundred seventy-three people were waiting for a reassignment notice. Lu Shouzhuo was nineteen, and had taken his father's quota to enter the farm three months ago. He couldn't fell trees, only recite books: the Yijing, Zangshu, Hanlongjing, and a stack of martial arts manuals copied from a scrapyard. Everyone in the farm called him "the one who recites books." In an accident, a hanging tree smashed and broke the old doctor's back. He knelt down and said something no one believed: a broken back cannot bend. Later, he was transferred to the watchtower on the mountain that no one was willing to guard. West of the tower base, there was a patch of soil that was warm in September. He sat on that patch of soil for twelve days and cultivated a furnace of true qi. The cost was a nosebleed. Also from that day on, he could see things others couldn't: whose leg was hurting, which ground was hollow, and who had a breath that hadn't yet dispersed. But this body was borrowed. The lease was three years, and when it expired, it had to be returned. — Description from novelcodex.orgFull novel: This Body, I Only Borrowed for Three Years — read the rest free on N​o⁠v​e⁠l​C⁠o​d⁠e​x⁠.​o⁠r​g⁠