Li Xuanfeng cried until his breath came in hiccups. He lay across Old Xu's body for a quarter of an hour, waiting until the hiccups stopped before slowly climbing to his feet.
He grabbed Old Xu's left foot and dragged him toward a waist-high tombstone. The old man's body was as light as a bundle of firewood — even a child could pull it.
He propped Old Xu's upper body against the headstone and tried to smooth the twisted, pained expression on the old man's face, hoping to make him look at peace.
"Waugh—"
But the old man's wrinkled face, caught between crying and laughing, sent Li Xuanfeng into another fit of sobs. He quickly turned away, wiping his tears as he ran uphill.
When he reached a spot where he could see the courtyard bathed in golden sunlight, he wiped his face dry, pursed his lips, and walked in.
The courtyard was paved with blue brick. A little girl in a small leather jacket sat quietly at the table, holding a pure white kitten in her arms and murmuring to it.
The sunlight fell on her lowered brows. Her curved eyes were beautiful — the kind that made you want to smile along with her.
She was the only girl in the Li family now — Li Jingtian. Liu Rouxuan had given birth to a son for Li Tongya, named Li Xuanling, who was now studying at the academy. So only Li Jingtian remained in the courtyard.
"Brother Feng."
She looked up, set the white cat on the table, and smiled.
"Who bullied you?"
"Who would dare bully him? He's the one who bullies others."
A young man walked in from the main courtyard. His brows were long and gentle, his eyes soft and warm, with a faint resemblance to Li Changhu. He spoke with a smile.
"Brother Xuanxuan, you've come out of seclusion?"
The girl's eyes lit up. She hopped over and grabbed Li Xuanxuan's hand.
"Have you reached the third layer — the Orbital Wheel?"
Li Xuanxuan nodded with a smile, but noticed Li Xuanfeng standing silently with his head down. He bent to ask.
"What's wrong, Feng?"
Li Xuanfeng answered dully:
"Uncle Xu is dead."
"What?!"
Li Xuanxuan froze. The warm smile vanished from his face, replaced by deep sorrow. He opened his mouth but no words came.
Li Xuanxuan had been born without a father. His grandfather Li Mutian loved him dearly, but the old man was stern and seldom spoke. Xuanxuan himself didn't know whether he revered his grandfather more or loved him more.
When he grew a little older, Li Xiangping kept him close every day. Xuanxuan was always careful, always studying his uncle's words and commands, never daring to slack off.
In all the years of his childhood, only Old Xu had folded grass crickets for him, drawn his portrait, told him stories of his father Li Changhu…
Though his heart ached terribly, Li Xuanxuan quickly composed himself. He patted Li Xuanfeng on the shoulder and said quietly:
"Take me to see him."
---
Li Chengfu bent low as he stepped over the high threshold of the main hall. Inside sat several stern-faced old men debating matters. At the head of the table sat a middle-aged man with an air of authority, wearing a gray wolfskin coat, drinking tea with a preoccupied air.
"Steward, Old Xu is dead."
Li Chengfu, now graying at the temples but still spry, bent close to the middle-aged man and spoke in a low voice.
The middle-aged man raised an eyebrow and lowered his voice in turn:
"What does the main family say?"
"Buried on the mountain. The young patriarch gave the order."
The middle-aged man nodded, thought for a moment, set down his teacup, clapped his hands, and said:
"We'll end today's discussion here. There are urgent matters on Lijing Mountain. Yesheng won't keep you any longer."
Li Yesheng had been steward for more than a decade. Now thirty years old, he carried a natural authority. In a land where the average lifespan barely reached sixty and people married at thirteen or fourteen, he was in his prime. Even his eldest son, Li Xiewen, was already twelve or thirteen.
Ren Ping'an had died of illness the year before. The one managing Jingyang Village now was Uncle Liu Linfeng. The old men rose at Li Yesheng's words, took their leave, and returned to their villages under escort.
When the room was empty, Li Yesheng took a sip of tea and said gravely:
"Go call Xiewen. He'll come with me to Meichi Mountain to report to the patriarch."
Li Xiangping had managed the family's affairs for over a decade now. His subordinates naturally called him patriarch.
"The young patriarch came out of seclusion. Our Qiuyang went up the mountain to pay respects. He says the young patriarch's strength is now equal to his."
As Li Xiewen hurried into the room, Li Chengfu glanced at Li Yesheng, his face full of delight, and spoke with a low laugh.
Thanks to Li Xiangping's tireless and open guidance of Li Xuanxuan over the years, it was plain to anyone that Li Xiangping was raising Li Changhu's posthumous son as the next family head. The stewards and village men all called Li Xuanxuan the young patriarch.
"Congratulations, Uncle Fu."
Li Yesheng smiled too and clasped his hands toward Li Chengfu.
"Eh, heh heh."
Li Chengfu chuckled. The two men exchanged a glance, then he nodded, bowed, and withdrew.
Li Yesheng watched Li Chengfu stoop his way out, then gave a cold snort. He turned to Li Xiewen and said sternly:
"Do you know why I congratulated Li Chengfu?"
"I don't know, Father…"
Li Xiewen scratched his head, looking confused.
"But Uncle Fu has been coming every few days to ask about Brother Xuanxuan's cultivation. I don't know whether to tell him or not…"
Li Yesheng sighed deeply, his brows knitting together.
"I told you to stop fooling around every day! Stick close to your old man and learn something! But you never listen!"
"Before the main family, only Li Xuanxuan has a spiritual aperture. We don't know the talents of Li Xuanfeng or Li Xuanling yet. And Li Qiuyang has been cultivating for a long time. If his cultivation outpaces Li Xuanxuan's, do you think the patriarch won't be wary?"
Li Xiewen's eyes widened as understanding dawned. He thought for a few breaths before answering:
"I see! Father is worried that when this generation grows old and fades away, only Li Xuanxuan and Li Qiuyang will remain. With a weak master and a strong branch…"
"It's still early."
Li Yesheng waved his hand, his voice cold:
"The patriarch plans far ahead. He may not necessarily fear Li Qiuyang. But we are all dependents of the main branch. We have to be careful. If the day ever comes when heaven and earth turn upside down, none of us will die well. Fortunately, Xuanxuan's talent is better. That way Qiuyang can use his full ability without the two sides having to watch each other."
He took another sip of tea and said gravely:
"Let me test you. If Li Xuanxuan really does cultivate slowly, what would you do?"
Li Xiewen lowered his head and thought for a long time.
"Check whether Li Qiuyang is lying about his cultivation level?"
"Not bad. The boy can be taught. That you reached this conclusion is already commendable."
Li Yesheng nodded, his expression serious.
"If he were lying about his cultivation, would the patriarch fail to see it? That old fox isn't that stupid. He would only have Li Qiuyang slow his cultivation to see how things develop. You set your men in place and wait for the patriarch's orders."
"Li Xiewen, remember this. Our branch has done too much for the main family, and we have no cultivators of our own. We have no choice but to cling to the main branch. Unless…"
"Unless what?"
Li Xiewen had grown up playing with Li Xuanxuan. They were close. He frowned at his father's words.
A flicker of fear crossed Li Yesheng's face. His voice trembled slightly:
"Unless, a hundred years from now, all four branches of the main family wither, and no child with a spiritual aperture is born."