Departure

"Don't worry. You're blessed with great fortune and a charmed life; you'll surely live to a ripe old hundred!" As he said this, he suddenly noticed two strands of white in Madam Ying's jet-black hair by her temples. Though she took good care of herself and had no wrinkles on her face, she was, after all, in her late thirties. Madam Ying took out a small jade ruyi and pressed it into his hand. "Keep this safe. It will protect you." He Yue chuckled from the side. "Ah, Mother's even brought out a treasure from her dowry." Madam Ying gave him a death glare to ponder over. "Are you really my son? How can your mouth be looser than a teenage girl's?" Then she solemnly warned He Lingchuan, "When you enter the Panlong Desert, you must be extremely careful. That is no good place! And—" She paused. "I know your abilities have grown, but you must take good care of your father. Both of you father and son must return safe and sound!" The worry in her eyes was impossible to conceal. She kept feeling that something ominous was about to happen—alas, yet she could not stop them. "Don't worry, Mother," He Lingchuan said slowly, studying her face. "I'll do my utmost." At this moment, mixed feelings welled up in his heart. He Chunhua was, in the end, the pillar of this household. Everyone in the family worried about his safety, including He Lingchuan's original self. In one's family of origin, there were always countless inextricable ties that could never be severed, entirely beyond the control of human will. To wield the sword of wisdom and sever the threads of attachment was no easy feat. And the word 'attachment' was far from being just romantic love. In the end, how many in this mortal world could truly see through it and sever it? He sighed inwardly, turned to his second brother, and said, "Second Brother, you're a grown man who can run the household now. Take good care of Mother!" He Yue nodded earnestly. "Safe travels, Brother." The two brothers looked at each other in silence, yet it felt as if a thousand words hung between them. In the end, He Lingchuan clapped his younger brother on the shoulder, laughed heartily, and mounted his rock sheep. With that, the party set out. Before turning the street corner, he looked back and saw Madam Ying and He Yue still standing where they were, watching him intently. He waved to his family with a bright smile. This time, it would not be "until next time." And the main event of his return to the kingdom was finally about to begin. *** Eastern outskirts of Tu County, the Yuan army encampment. The southern rebellion had essentially been suppressed; what little remained of the bandits had fled and was no longer a cause for concern. The Yuan army would periodically enter Longchuan to sweep up the remaining rebels. Yet post-war duties were not light in the least. Furthermore, Tu County was now He Chunhua's territory; having begun taking over local civil administration, he was run off his feet every single day. This had become Governor-General He's normal state; those looking to deliver reports in the camp often could not find him. Yet tonight alone, He Chunhua pushed aside all affairs and returned to his tent. He ordered an altar table set up, had the three sacrifices of pig, ox, and sheep prepared, and had forty-eight dishes of meat, vegetables, and fruits laid out across two full tables. Clad in plain white mourning robes, he reverently placed the spirit tablets upon the altar table and offered incense. Today was once again the day of the He clan's ancestral sacrifice. In the past, the four members of the family had always observed this solemn day together; this time, out leading troops in battle, he could only make the offerings alone. By his current official rank, he was not even permitted to offer the great three sacrifices, but He Chunhua paid no heed to such regulations. Once the offerings were set upon the tables, he dismissed everyone, keeping only Zhao Qinghe by his side to attend him. The He clan's family sacrifice was always a mournful occasion. He Chunhua knelt down, kowtowing heavily while muttering in a low whisper. Zhao Qinghe heard him recounting the recent battle reports one by one to his ancestors. "At last, we return to the Yuan capital; at last, the Yuan court cannot do without me." He Chunhua pressed his forehead to the ground. "Ancestors, Father, Mother, brothers and sisters, from now on we shall not merely restore our family's renown, nor merely bring honor to our name!" His prayer was long. By the time he stood up, the blood from kowtowing had run down his forehead to his neck. Zhao Qinghe hurriedly fetched a soft cloth to wipe away the blood. He Chunhua did not care in the least. Chuckling softly, he said, "Bring wine. On this day of great victory, I shall drink with my family." This was breaking the taboo, for on the day of ancestral sacrifice, the He family never drank wine. Zhao Qinghe did not know this, however, and immediately ordered two jars of fine wine brought in. The bayberry wine produced locally in Longchuan was sweet and refreshing, but packed a considerable punch. Sitting opposite the spirit tablets, He Chunhua drank as he toasted, draining bowl after bowl in single gulps. In the blink of an eye, both jars were empty, and he told Zhao Qinghe to fetch more wine. "My Lord, you have drunk quite a bit already." Zhao Qinghe had already sensed that something was off with He Chunhua tonight. He Chunhua waved a hand. "Go, bring more wine!" Zhao Qinghe had no choice but to comply. Tonight, the moon shone over Longchuan, while frogs and insects chirped outside the tent. He Chunhua drank until he was dead drunk, then suddenly hurled down his wine bowl and broke into loud wails! The weeping was heart-wrenching and convulsive, fraught with unspeakable agony and grief, stunning Zhao Qinghe on the spot. What... what had happened to Governor-General He? Recovering his senses with difficulty, he hurried to erect a soundproofing boundary. But He Chunhua's earlier crying had already carried outside, heard by many nearby soldiers. Zhao Qinghe tried to console him, but He Chunhua ignored him completely, clutching the table leg and sobbing his eyes out with tears and snot streaming down his face. Never had he seen his lord lose control like this. Had he been driven to the depths of sorrow? Staying any longer would only be awkward, so Zhao Qinghe had no choice but to step out of the tent, leaving He Chunhua alone with his ancestors. Soldiers passing by craned their necks to peer inside, but Zhao Qinghe barked at them, "What are you all standing around for? Don't you have work to do?" In an instant, they scattered like startled birds. Zhao Qinghe paced outside for half an hour before lifting the tent flap and stepping back inside. Only to find one of the offering tables smashed, dishes overturned all across the floor, and He Chunhua himself fast asleep on the ground. His head rested against a table leg, several cuts from broken porcelain lined his face, and his eyes were swollen like walnuts. Such an appearance could not be seen by others. Zhao Qinghe fetched water to wash his face, then helped him over to the camp cot. Half-consciously opening his eyes, He Chunhua asked him, "Chuan'er... I wronged you! Do you blame me?" Zhao Qinghe fell silent. How was he supposed to answer for his lord's family affairs? Yet Lord He had always treated his eldest son exceedingly well; he had no idea what there was to be sorry for. "Yet I had no other choice!" He Chunhua went on. "Back then, I was at the end of my rope myself, but I had to survive! I had to avenge our entire family, all those young and old... You definitely don't blame me, right?!" He gripped Zhao Qinghe's arm with force, the last few words uttered almost through gritted teeth. Knowing there was no reasoning with a drunkard, Zhao Qinghe could only nod. "Yes, yes!" After several reassuring words, He Chunhua let out a heavy breath of alcohol fumes and finally closed his eyes, sinking into a deep slumber. *** The next morning, when Zhao Qinghe went to see He Chunhua, the latter was having his clothes and hair arranged by his personal guards. Dashing, spirited, and impeccably groomed, he was like a completely different person from the disheveled drunkard of the previous night. He smiled at Zhao Qinghe. "You're here. I drank too much last night. Did I speak any nonsense?" Seeing the piercing sharpness in his eyes, Zhao Qinghe felt a jolt in his heart and immediately replied, "No, My Lord." He Chunhua turned around. "Truly none?" "You only kept calling for Housekeeper Wu to bring more wine." He Chunhua sighed. "A drunken man makes a fool of himself in every way, and I still have a bit of a headache this morning. Wine truly is no good thing."