Chapter 817: Leaving

“Don’t worry, Madam, you’re blessed with great fortune and a long life; you’ll surely live to be a hundred!”

As he spoke, he suddenly noticed two strands of white hair in Madam Ying’s jet-black temples. Although she was well-preserved and had no wrinkles, she was, after all, in her late thirties.

Madam Ying took out a small jade Ruyi scepter and slipped it into his hand. “Keep this safe,” she said, “it will protect you.”

He Yue chuckled from the side, “Oh, Mother has brought out all the treasures from her dowry.”

Madam Ying shot him a glare that spoke volumes. “Are you even my son?” she retorted. “Why are you more talkative than a teenage girl?” Then she earnestly admonished He Lingchuan, “When you enter the Coiling Dragon Desert, you must be extremely careful; that is not a good place! And also—” She paused. “I know you are very capable, but you must take good care of your father. Both of you must return safely!”

Unmistakable worry filled her eyes. She had a persistent feeling that something ominous would happen, alas! But she could not stop him.

“Don’t worry, Mother,” He Lingchuan said slowly, looking at her intently. “I will do my best.” At that moment, his heart was a medley of mixed emotions.

He Chunhua was, after all, the pillar of the family. Everyone worried about his safety, including He Lingchuan’s original self. A family of origin always has countless intricate ties that cannot be severed, entirely independent of one’s will. It is not easy to sever emotional attachments with the sword of wisdom. This concept of “qing” encompasses more than just romantic love. In this mortal world, how many can truly see through and sever such ties?

He sighed inwardly, then turned to his second brother. “Second brother,” he said, “you are a man of the household now; you must take good care of Mother!”

He Yue nodded earnestly. “Brother,” he said, “have a safe journey.”

The two brothers looked at each other in silence, yet it was as if a thousand words passed between them. Finally, He Lingchuan patted his second brother’s shoulder, laughed heartily, mounted his rock goat, and the company set off.

Before turning the corner, he looked back and saw Madam Ying and He Yue still standing there, gazing fixedly at him. He waved to his family, a radiant smile on his face. This time, it was not goodbye. And the main event of his return finally began.

***

Tuxian County’s eastern suburbs, the Kite Army’s main camp.

The southern rebellion had been largely quelled; the few remaining bandits who escaped were no longer a concern. The Kite Army would regularly enter Longchuan to sweep away the remaining rebels.

However, the post-war work was far from easy. Tuxian County was also He Chunhua’s territory, so he began to take over local government affairs, keeping him constantly swamped. This was also Comptroller He’s usual state; he was often nowhere to be found when reports were due at the camp.

But only this evening, He Chunhua pushed aside all his duties and returned to his tent. He ordered an altar to be set up, three sacrificial animals (pig, ox, and sheep) to be cooked, and forty-eight bowls of various meat, vegetable, and fruit dishes to be prepared, filling two tables. Dressed in plain white mourning clothes, he reverently placed the spirit tablet on the altar and offered incense.

Today was once again the day for the He clan’s ancestral sacrifice. Previously, this day of sacrifice was observed by all four family members together; this time, as he was leading troops in battle, he had to make the offerings himself. According to his current rank, he was not permitted to offer the three grand sacrificial animals, but He Chunhua completely disregarded this. After the offerings were on the table, he dismissed everyone, leaving only Zhao Qinghe to attend him.

The He family’s ancestral sacrifice was always a somber day. He Chunhua knelt, kowtowing loudly while muttering in a low voice. Zhao Qinghe heard him recounting the recent battle reports, one by one, to his ancestors.

“Finally, I’ve returned to Yuantou, and finally, the Yuan Court cannot do without me,” He Chunhua declared, pressing his head to the ground. “Ancestors, father, mother, brothers, and sisters, from now on, we must not only restore our prestige but also bring glory to our family!”

The prayer was lengthy; by the time he stood up, blood from his forehead where he had kowtowed had flowed down to his neck. Zhao Qinghe quickly took a soft cloth and wiped away the blood for him.

He Chunhua didn’t mind; he chuckled. “Bring wine,” he said. “On this day of great victory, I want to drink with my family.” This was a departure from custom, as the He family never drank alcohol on the day of ancestral worship. But Zhao Qinghe was unaware of this and immediately ordered two jars of fine wine to be brought.

The bayberry wine produced locally in Longchuan was sweet and refreshing, but it had a considerable kick. He Chunhua sat down directly facing the spirit tablet, drinking as he offered respects, downing a bowl in one gulp. In the blink of an eye, both jars were empty, and he told Zhao Qinghe to fetch more wine.

“Sir, you’ve had quite a lot to drink,” Zhao Qinghe said, having already sensed that He Chunhua’s state tonight was somewhat abnormal.

He Chunhua waved his hand. “Go, fetch wine!”

Zhao Qinghe had no choice but to comply.

Tonight, the moon shone over Longchuan, and outside the tent, frogs croaked and insects chirped. He Chunhua continued to eat and drink until he was thoroughly intoxicated, then suddenly threw down his wine bowl and burst into loud sobs! His cries were heart-wrenching, a convulsive wailing filled with unspeakable pain and sorrow that instantly stunned Zhao Qinghe.

What, what had happened to Comptroller He? He finally recovered his senses and quickly set up a sound-dampening barrier. However, He Chunhua’s earlier cries had already carried, and many nearby soldiers had heard them.

Zhao Qinghe tried to persuade him a couple of times, but He Chunhua completely ignored him, clutching the table leg and crying hysterically, snot and tears streaming down his face. He had never seen his master so distraught. Was this the pinnacle of his sorrow?

Staying any longer would be awkward, so Zhao Qinghe had no choice but to withdraw from the tent, leaving He Chunhua alone with his ancestors. Soldiers passing by outside the tent craned their necks to look, and Zhao Qinghe barked, “What are you all standing around for? Don’t you have anything to do?” Whoosh, everyone scattered.

Zhao Qinghe paced outside for half an hour before finally lifting the curtain and stepping back inside. He saw that one of the offering tables had been knocked over, with food spilled on the ground. He Chunhua himself was lying asleep on the ground, his head resting against a table leg, his face scratched in several places by porcelain shards, and his eyes swollen like walnuts.

This appearance was not fit for others to see, so Zhao Qinghe fetched water to wash his face and then helped him to the campaign cot. He Chunhua drowsily opened his eyes and asked, “Chuan’er… I wronged you! Do you blame me?”

Zhao Qinghe was speechless. How was he supposed to answer his master’s family matters? But Lord He had always been very good to his eldest son; he didn’t know what there was to be “sorry” about.

“But I had no choice!” He Chunhua continued. “At that time, I was at the end of my rope, but I still had to live. I had to avenge our entire family, all those old and young… You don’t blame me, do you?” He tugged hard at Zhao Qinghe’s arm, his last few words almost gritted through his teeth. Zhao Qinghe knew it was useless to reason with a drunkard, so he simply nodded, “Yes, yes!” After several affirmations from Zhao Qinghe, He Chunhua exhaled a heavy breath of alcohol and finally closed his eyes, falling into a deep sleep.

***

The next morning, when Zhao Qinghe went to see He Chunhua, the latter was being dressed and having his hair styled by his personal guards. Energetic and dashing, he was a completely different person from the disheveled drunkard of the previous night.

He smiled at Zhao Qinghe. “You’re here,” he said. “I drank too much last night; did I say anything foolish?”

Zhao Qinghe saw his intense gaze, his heart skipped a beat, and he immediately replied, “No.”

He Chunhua turned around. “Truly not?”

“You kept calling for Butler Wu to bring more wine.”

He Chunhua sighed. “Drunkenness certainly brings out all kinds of embarrassments, and I still have a bit of a headache this morning. This wine really isn’t a good thing.”