In the Yan Dynasty, great importance was placed on honoring the dead. With Zhong Lao’er’s passing, it could perhaps be excused that the elderly parents of the Zhong family did not come, citing their age and the difficulty of long travel. But for Zhong Lao San’s entire family not to show up at all was, frankly, hard to justify.
Out of wariness toward the Zhong family, the villagers only whispered about it in private. Though gossip was common in the village, people still knew where to draw the line—who could be offended and who could not.
Some even speculated whether there were customs in the city they didn’t understand—until the truth came out.
It wasn’t that the elders of the Zhong family were unwilling to come and arrange the funeral or properly send Zhong Lao’er off on his final journey. Rather, they were tied up in the prefectural city, desperately dealing with the mess caused by the Zhong family’s young husband.
If not for a servant accidentally letting something slip while leaving, the villagers would have remained in the dark. They had thought highly of the young man—after all, escorting his father’s body back to the village alone for burial seemed like the very definition of filial piety. Now, however, it appeared more likely that he had gotten into trouble and had come back to avoid disaster.
Coupled with what Wang Shun had said to the village head at the Zhong family’s old residence, the villagers suddenly understood: this so-called “precious young master” was nothing of the sort—he was clearly a hot potato.
It was obvious the Zhong family intended to teach Zhong Yizhu a lesson. They hadn’t even left a single servant in the village. With such an attitude, the villagers no longer felt the need to hold back.
Those who had once praised him were the quickest to change their tune. One said his upturned eyes made him look restless and improper; another claimed he was of bad character and always courting trouble, warning others not to let him bring misfortune upon the village.
Behind closed doors, every household warned their young men to stay far away from the Zhong family’s young husband, lest they be seduced. Liu Yu even grabbed her son by the ear and made him swear he would never again think about Zhong Yizhu before she was satisfied.
…
The Zhong family’s old residence stood on the north side of the village. When the Zhong family first settled in Liushan Village, they could only claim land on the outskirts.
They had arrived as refugees, unable even to build a proper house at first, living instead in makeshift huts and surviving on wild vegetables. Later, when Zhong Lao’er made his fortune, they tore down the thatched hut and built a fine brick house on the same spot, drawing much envy from the villagers.
Brick houses were expensive but sturdy and durable. Yet even the finest house would fall into disrepair after more than ten years without care.
On the day Zhong Yizhu returned, he already knew his third uncle—who had taken money and claimed to have hired someone to maintain the place—had been lying all along.
Most of the roof tiles had weathered and broken. Weeds overran the courtyard. Even the lock on the door was rusted through.
In his seventeen years of life, Zhong Yizhu had never set foot in such a place. He had been born after the Zhong family rose to prosperity. Though not extravagantly raised, he had been cherished and carefully nurtured by his parents. The greatest grievance he had ever suffered was his grandparents’ favoritism toward his siblings.
Whenever he felt wronged, his father would find ways to cheer him up—curious toys and treats when he was young, rare fragrances he loved as he grew older.
But now, his father was gone.
With a blank expression, Zhong Yizhu followed behind the servants carrying the coffin into the main hall. Ignoring the dust on the ground, he knelt stiffly before it.
There were no tear tracks on his face. His usually bright, lively peach-blossom eyes were now clouded with deep grief and confusion, so dry they could not shed a single tear. He couldn’t understand why—why someone as good as his father had to be taken away so cruelly.
Wang Shun frowned, waving away the dust in front of him. Sunlight filtered through the broken gaps in the roof tiles, casting beams onto the floor. He glanced at Zhong Yizhu’s back, then looked around at the dilapidated surroundings with undisguised schadenfreude, before finally letting his gaze rest on the coffin.
Still, wary of gossip, Wang Shun eventually had people brought in from the village to repair the house.
Thus, by the time Sun Yunniang arrived in Liushan Village, the scene had changed completely. The weeds in the courtyard had been cleared, broken tiles replaced, and fresh paper pasted over the windows. At a glance, though it couldn’t compare to a residence in the city, it was at least livable.
Only then did the tight knot in Sun Yunniang’s heart loosen slightly.
Wang Shun, now aligned with the third branch of the family, had been sarcastic and obstructive throughout the journey. Unfortunately, her own health failed her—just two days after setting out, she fell ill and could no longer travel. With summer approaching, the body could not be kept long, so Zhong Yizhu had to escort the coffin ahead alone.
As soon as the courtyard gate closed, Sun Yunniang ignored everything else and pulled Zhong Yizhu close, examining him from head to toe.
He had always been slender, but now he looked almost weightless, as if a gust of wind might carry him away. The soft flesh on his cheeks had thinned, and the redness at the corners of his eyes looked like it had seeped from his very lifeblood.
“You’ve gotten so thin.”
Before she finished speaking, her eyes had already reddened. The child she and her husband had cherished like a treasure was now forced to face this devastating upheaval alone.
They had failed him.
“I’m healthy—it’s fine to be a bit thinner. Mother, you should go inside and rest. I’ll boil water and prepare your medicine.”
Not wanting her to worry, Zhong Yizhu gently steered her toward the main hall. Her grief was no less than his, and with her illness and the strain of travel, just walking into the courtyard had already drained her, leaving her lips pale.
She had stayed in the village for his sake. He could not let anything happen to her.