"It is enough that you're back, it is enough that you're back!" Even an adept manipulator of worldly affairs like He Chunhua was momentarily choked with emotion, a thousand myriad feelings surging into his chest.
Only after steadying himself for quite a while did he ask, "Have you had breakfast yet?"
He Lingchuan shook his head.
"Just as well. Let us eat together."
Madam Ying wiped her tears, then turned to Housekeeper Wu. "Add more dishes!"
Her eldest son had a ravenous appetite, and the breakfast the kitchen had prepared in advance was nowhere near enough for a family of four. "I heard the Chinese toon sprouts delivered this morning are very tender. Tell the cook to make six steamed buns—no, no, steaming takes too long, make pan-fried buns! Slice up the braised spiced beef meant for lunch and bring it up now. Also, make three bowls of hot and sour noodle soup..."
He Lingchuan stepped closer with a grin. "Is it still the cook from Blackwater City? In that case, I want hawthorn cakes!"
"Look at you, greedy as ever! You haven't even eaten a proper meal and you already want sweets?" Madam Ying chided him, then immediately turned to Housekeeper Wu. "Go fetch the hawthorn cakes."
He Lingchuan hastily added, "I also brought over a dozen men back with me. Old Wu, take care of their food and drink for me!"
Truly her eldest son—not seen for half a year, yet still carrying on with the exact same ways! Madam Ying rolled her eyes inwardly, though she voiced no criticism.
He Chunhua heard it too, his gaze flickering slightly.
Where had his eldest son brought men back from?
Housekeeper Wu assented repeatedly and hurried off to attend to it.
The family of four walked toward the dining hall, the courtyard brimming with long-absent laughter and lively chatter.
Seeing his mother and younger brother display such genuine warmth, He Lingchuan felt a swell of joy in his own heart.
Neither he nor his original self had liked this household, but compared to the tumultuous storms he had weathered afterward, he realized just how carefree and leisurely life back in Blackwater City had been.
A pity, though: there was no going back.
Neither in mindset nor in experience could he ever return.
He could also sense that He Chunhua's eyes remained firmly fixed on him.
His father's delight was unmistakable as well.
After eight months apart, the whole family was finally seated together for a meal once more.
It looked like a picture of warmth and harmony.
The moment He Chunhua's sliced fish congee was served, he pushed it straight over to his eldest son. "Eat more! You look thinner to me."
He Lingchuan did not decline, slurping up the porridge noisily. "Home-cooked food is still the best after all."
These words were sincere. Having tasted every mountain delicacy and sea flavor in Lingxu City, he found in the end that home food suited his palate best.
Madam Ying smiled broadly. "Hurry and tell us, where have you been this past half-year? Why didn't you come back, or even send a letter to let us know you were safe?"
By the last few words, her teeth were lightly gritted.
This heartless little rascal—did he truly not know how miserable his family had felt?
"Ah, well." He Lingchuan scratched his head. In truth, not long after he first entered the demon kingdom of Chiyan, he had met Li Qingge, who had offered to send word back to the country on his behalf, only to drop the idea on his own later.
Sect Master Li was a shrewd man who understood how to balance propriety.
When it came to the He family, He Lingchuan's feelings were exceedingly complicated.
"Last summer, when I fell into the Han River, I don't know where so much debris, tree trunks, and boulders came rushing down from. I was battered about in the water, and in the end something struck my head and knocked me cold," he began spinning his yarn. "By the time I came around, I was already in a harbor called Shabutou in Xuluo Kingdom. Supposedly the flood washed me into a shallow bay, and local fishermen hauled me ashore. They originally intended to bury me, but then found I was still breathing."
Madam Ying and He Yue listened with bated breath. Only He Chunhua had personally experienced the Battle of the Han River, having seen with his own eyes how his eldest son went into the water and how the boundless timber from upriver had swept downstream, crushing every living creature in its path.
For He Lingchuan to have survived was nothing short of a miracle.
"How long did you drift with the current?" He Chunhua had a faint recollection that there was indeed a river bend in Xuluo Kingdom called Shabutou, and it was indeed downriver on the Han River. He knew this because he had studied operational sand tables with Zhao Pan, the northern front general.
"I'm not too sure—two or three days, perhaps?"
He Yue asked in surprise, "Brother, not to dispute you, but after drifting in the water for two or three days, you still had breath in you?"
He Lingchuan fished a pearl from his breast and waved it at him. "Look at what this is: a turtle pearl!"
"This thing helps one breathe underwater. As soon as I fell into the water, I popped it into my mouth."
"Oh, I remember now! You got this by Xianling Lake, didn't you?" He Yue still remembered the fierce battle beside Xianling Village.
"Good memory," He Lingchuan commended his younger brother.
Madam Ying urged, "And then?"
"And then I forgot who I was."
"What?" What sort of absurd twist was this?
He Lingchuan rubbed the back of his head. "After I woke up, I had no idea who I was or where I came from. The physician said my head had taken a heavy blow, and blood stasis had blocked my memories. I didn't know how to fish, nor did I want to farm. I was completely lost there, unable to even pay for my medicine."
At this point, he gritted his teeth. "I don't know which wicked bastard cleaned out all my money and belongings while I was unconscious! When I woke up, I had nothing but the clothes on my back!"
The storage ring on his finger had long since been swapped out in Lingxu City, so there was no fear of He Chunhua recognizing it.
"Fortunately, a passing merchant caravan took note of my strength and martial skills, so they took me on as an escort guard."
The piping-hot pan-fried buns were brought out, their bottoms still sizzling; scraped with chopsticks, the entire crust was crisp and golden. He Lingchuan picked one up and bit in, sending scalding broth hissing out two feet and nearly splattering He Yue's face.
He Yue dodged nimbly. "What happened after that?"
"I wandered with the caravan for a long time. Memories surfaced occasionally like scattered fragments—I could recall your faces, and bits and pieces of Blackwater City and Shihuan City, and even flashes of the battle at the Han River would flit through my mind. But... they were completely disjointed. I simply couldn't remember who you all were!"
He Lingchuan wore an expression of deep sorrow and grievance.
He could hardly say: *I beat up the demon puppet master Dong Rui, drifted into the lair of the ancient great demon Zhu Erniang with him, was commissioned by her to go to Beijia City to search for an immortal molt, then became sworn friends with the Chiyan Crown Prince, investigated the missing couriers case for Chiyan, which escalated into the elixir of immortality case that rocked Lingxu City, and finally, after offending a horde of prominent figures in Lingxu City, I blew the Heavenly Palace's Zhaixing Tower sky-high and brought catastrophe down upon Lingxu City, right?*
Madam Ying would surely tell him, "Your head is broken; you need medicine."
Rather than that, he was better off simply fabricating a tale about losing his memory and aimlessly wandering about.
To Madam Ying and He Yue, this sounded rather fantastical; to He Lingchuan, it was shamelessly recycling melodramatic clichés.
Yet between the utterly preposterous and the fantastical, he would rather choose the latter.
After all, this at least fell roughly within the bounds of ordinary comprehension, didn't it?
He Yue patted his elder brother's shoulder in consolation. "Brother, in the end, you're back!"
"Indeed. Later, the caravan reached the territory of Mount Rong, where a cicada plague was actually running rampant..."
When his eldest son uttered the words "Mount Rong," He Chunhua's gaze narrowed slightly.
Twice in a single day, he had heard "Mount Rong"—could it truly be such a coincidence?
Chapter 770