Chapter Four: A Father and Son's Deep Bond

At midday, Han Jian had the cook prepare a fine meal, laid out across two tables in the first-floor dining hall. By the customs of Yueyue Manor, the seven Yue-disciples ate exactly the same dishes as their master and the household's principal members—no distinctions made between them—only the master's table sat closer to the interior, while the guards' table was positioned nearer the outside. The hidden guards ate the same fare as well, though since their watch duties could never leave any gaps, they took turns coming down to eat in a dedicated dining room set aside just for them, with designated cooks rotating shifts to keep their food warm at all times.

This was simply Chu Mingxi's way of managing those under her—even her guards, she treated as family, extending to them the same consideration one would show one's own kin. In her household, there was no such notion as men and women being forbidden from sharing a table; when everyone at Yueyue Manor gathered together, it amounted to no more than two tables in total, and given how rare it was for the whole household to eat together at all, she made a point of keeping things as lively and inclusive as possible, drawing no distinctions among anyone. To her right sat Yue Heng, and to her left, Tian Xu; beside Tian Xu sat Wang Qiugui and the four members of the Han family—whenever Han Jian happened to be away from Yueyue Manor, that seat would simply remain empty. The same seating arrangement held true here at the Four Seas Inn as well. Now, with Tian Xu having stepped into the position of Manor Lord, a place setting of bowl and chopsticks still remained set at the empty seat to his left, standing in as a gesture of inviting his mother to join the meal as well.

Once both tables were set and everyone had taken their places—Tian Xu seated, the others seated as well—only Yue Heng was conspicuously absent. The four Yue-disciples went several times to his door to request his presence, but received no response each time, and with spirits sinking, no one felt much inclined to pick up their chopsticks. Seeing this, Tian Xu rose from his seat and walked directly toward Yue Heng's room.

"Father! It's Xu'er. Would you please open the door?" Tian Xu knocked on Yue Heng's door and made his request.

Unsurprisingly, there was no response whatsoever from within.

"Father! Everyone is waiting to eat—please, I beg you to come down." Tian Xu pleaded once more.

"Go ahead and eat without me." After a long pause, Yue Heng's faintly tipsy voice drifted quietly from within the room.

"Then Xu'er will come keep you company with a drink instead..." With that, Tian Xu gently tested the door, and finding it unlocked, gave it a light push—the door creaked open just a crack. Tian Xu pushed a little harder and stepped inside Yue Heng's room.

"Your mother forbade you from drinking—what, has she barely left this world and already you've forgotten?" Yue Heng's words carried a hint of intoxication, and even more so, a note of anger. He did not look directly at Tian Xu, keeping his gaze fixed instead on the wine jug in his hands.

"Xu'er would never dare forget her... but Xu'er also wishes he could forget the pain of losing Mother. Father, you and Xu'er have both lost the most important person in our lives at the very same time—if even a man of your unyielding, iron will cannot bear such pain, how could Xu'er possibly manage it? Xu'er, too, wishes he could drink himself into a stupor and never wake." As Tian Xu spoke, his voice broke, and he sank to his knees before Yue Heng, covering his face and weeping.

He would never forget it—his adoptive father's trembling hands, mingled with his own tears and his father's, endlessly wiping away the blood trickling from the corners of his mother's mouth and eyes from the poison's effects. By the time his mother had already breathed her last in his father's arms, the true collapse of their grief and helplessness had only just begun...

His mother had once told him that, years ago, when Yue Heng had had the tendons of his hands and feet severed and was left to die on his own, even as he lay at the very brink of death, he had still carried himself with unbending pride, entirely unafraid of death—and when his father had come to save him, he had still been met only with a cold shoulder. From the moment his mother first came to know him, she had never once seen him show fear or despair, and for as long as Tian Xu himself could remember, he too had never witnessed such a thing—his father's blood ran with the iron will of an unbreakable man by nature, and yet, at his mother's passing, he had wept just as brokenly as Tian Xu himself. Had his mother not, in her final moments, entrusted both her son and the entire manor to his father's care, perhaps his father, too, would have followed her in death.

His mother, after all, had truly understood his father.

The two of them had relied on each other, stood by each other's side for nearly fourteen years—not husband and wife, yet their bond ran deeper than many marriages. One a man of few words, the other radiant and openhearted; from initial mutual wariness to eventually trusting each other enough to turn their backs to one another without hesitation, together they had carved out new territory and built the vast commercial empire that was Yueyue Manor. Whatever his mother wished to do, his father never once objected, always lending his full support without reservation—even though he disliked taking on disciples, and had no interest whatsoever in managing such an elaborate network of hidden guards, he had nonetheless shouldered that entire burden without hesitation, silently, purely because his mother had asked it of him. For his mother, whenever she needed him, all it ever took was for his father to say two simple words—"I'm here"—and that alone would settle her heart completely, giving her the courage to press forward against a thousand obstacles, to accomplish whatever she had set her mind to. The two of them had weathered every storm together, overcoming one hardship after another, and there was no question that they had been each other's most trusted, most steadfast companions in this world.

And now, his father seemed to have aged tremendously. That once-upright, imposing frame now stooped with a weary hunch, his once entirely black hair now streaked with frost-white, and that once razor-sharp gaze had dimmed, all its former brilliance extinguished—he was no longer the same Yue Heng, that once peerless, world-defying martial genius.

"If I hadn't taught Xi'er how to use hidden sleeve-arrows for self-defense in moments of crisis, she never would have had the resolve to strike down that madwoman He Yan with her own hands. It all happened so suddenly, none of us had any time to react. Xi'er was such a compassionate person, she never even let me harm anyone lightly if it could be avoided—who could have imagined she would end up killing He Yan with her own hands... I had originally still hoped to press He Yan for whether she'd secretly kept an antidote hidden away... it's all my fault..." Yue Heng took another drink, tears welling in his eyes, his heart consumed entirely with self-blame.

"It isn't Father's fault at all. He Yan knew full well how skilled Uncle Zhou was in medicine—that's precisely why she went out of her way to seek out that poison from a witch doctor in Nanzhao, specifically to ensure there would be no chance for Uncle Zhou to administer an antidote. And besides, Uncle Zhou wasn't even present at the time. She had already lost every shred of humanity to her jealousy, utterly determined to see Mother dead, no matter the cost." As Tian Xu spoke, he leaned forward and gently rested his head against Yue Heng's knee.

"Mother personally avenged her and Father, settling that debt of blood within their own generation, so that... so that..." At this point, Tian Xu could no longer continue speaking, collapsing against Yue Heng's leg, weeping uncontrollably. He had meant to comfort his father, but had ended up moving himself to tears instead—this particular knot was simply too difficult to untangle, precisely because he too was caught up in it himself, forever unable to escape the tangled complications of it all.

Yue Heng finally set down the wine jug, forcing himself to steady his own battered, fractured heart. He knew that, with Chu Mingxi's passing, his heart could never again be made whole—it could only continue to crumble away, piece by piece, scattering into the wind. And yet what fault lay with the child before him now? He was the one person Xi'er could never bear to let go of, in her heart above all others—how could Yue Heng possibly abandon him now? Wasn't it precisely for this reason that he had continued to live at all, so that he might witness firsthand, walk alongside, and truly understand what Xi'er herself had endured throughout these nearly fourteen years?

And yet Xi'er's heart had always clung to the hope that Cheng Siyuan remained alive somewhere in this world—a hope that had allowed her to summon the strength to face life head-on, to raise her son, and ultimately to fulfill the promise Cheng Siyuan had entrusted to her, and in the end, she had truly gotten her wish, seeing Cheng Siyuan one final time before the end. But what about him? Where did his own hope lie? Xi'er had drawn her last breath in his very arms—unlike all those years ago, when Cheng Siyuan's body had never even been found, leaving at least some faint thread of possibility to cling to. His heart now felt like nothing more than dead ash, withered wood—where could he possibly find the strength to feel alive again? As long as he remained conscious, every single memory from these past dozen-plus years came flooding back uncontrollably; even once he passed out drunk, his dreams still carried Xi'er's voice, her smile, her face, calling out to him tenderly as "Ah Heng," exactly as if she were still alive. She had once told him that Yueyue Manor was half his own achievement as well, which was precisely why she had named it "Yueyue"—"Yue" the moon, and "Yue" his own name, sharing the same sound—for he was her fellow traveler in this life's journey, and it was only right that he should be invited to share half ownership of the manor. She had also selected seven children from various charity houses across the land—each of good character, able to endure hardship, and without any surviving parents—to become his disciples. Master and father, both at once; disciple and child, both at once. She had given them all names beginning with the character "Yue," which also carried the implicit meaning of taking his surname as their own.

"You're all alone in this world—someday, they can care for you in your old age and see to your final rites," Xi'er had said to him back then. Though he had been thoroughly reluctant at the time, he simply hadn't been able to talk her out of it, and eventually even Tian Xu and Han Jin had been swept into the arrangement as well...

"How unfortunate Xu'er has been... in thirteen years, the very first time I ever saw Father was also the last time... and yet how fortunate, too... to have had two fathers who loved me so dearly... though Father was never... by Xu'er's side... Xu'er knows he always thought of me, constantly... always thinking of Xu'er. These past years, Father, you... you filled the void left by Father's absence... by my side. Since I was small, you and Mother together... together... cared for Xu'er in every possible way, taught Xu'er martial arts... everything a father could ever do for his son, you never once... failed to do. Without you, there would be no... no... Xu'er as he stands today. Xu'er acknowledges you as his father... Xu'er has already lost... Father and Mother, I cannot... cannot... lose you as well. You are Xu'er's... father, for the rest of my life, no matter what... please, I beg you, find the strength to stand tall again... Xu'er needs you..." Tian Xu wept through broken, halting sobs, each word costing him tremendous effort, and yet every single one struck deep into Yue Heng's heart. Both Ayuan and Xi'er were gone now, and Tian Xu was the single greatest gift the two of them had ever left behind for him—all those years ago, he had planted this seed without even meaning to, and it had grown into something far greater than he could ever have imagined; what had begun simply as fulfilling a promise made to an old friend had, in the end, left him with his entire heart given away, along with a family and a son of his own.

Tian Xu and the seven Yue-disciples were, after all, entirely different to him. The seven regarded themselves primarily as his disciples and guards, holding him mostly in a kind of reverent awe; Tian Xu, by contrast, could truly be said to have grown up right at his knee. From the moment of his birth, through learning to crawl, to walk, to speak, from an infant who once soaked him completely and then giggled at him for it, all the way to the brave and resourceful young man he had become today—Yue Heng had never once been absent for a single stage of that growth. Ayuan had entrusted him with keeping mother and child completely safe, and so he had scarcely ever strayed far from Xi'er and her son's side; as a result, his bond with Tian Xu ran far deeper and closer than with any of the others. Even though he himself had never truly understood what tenderness or affection meant, and remained clumsy and awkward in expressing it, Tian Xu nonetheless harbored a profound, heartfelt devotion toward him, and he, in turn, genuinely cherished this child who had always been remarkably thoughtful and mature for his age. Those repeated cries of "Father" struck something deep within Yue Heng's heart; he reached out with his calloused, weathered hand and stroked Tian Xu's head, and at last, the tears he had been holding back broke free.

He had never been a man skilled with words, and in this moment, he found himself at even more of a loss than usual for what to say, and so father and son simply wept together, their silent sorrow and silent warmth intertwining and merging together in an instant.

Whether one called it the cruel mockery of fate, or heaven's own compassion looking down upon them, perhaps it was true that only the two of them, father and son together, could ever truly offer each other's hearts any real comfort.

Chapter Five: Upheaval in Chang'an