The seventh day after Yang Laoye’s death arrived. Yang Jingyuan had not returned.
“Today is the seventh day of memorial for his father and his concubine mother. He won’t even return to offer incense and pay respects—such an unfilial son! Why do you still think of him?” Madam Yang’s anger grew even more intense.
With the Third Young Master not returning and Master Shu’s whereabouts remaining a mystery, Yang Jingyuan’s absence from the memorial hall had to be concealed, as agreed between Yang Jingshan and Yang Jingyan. Yang Jingshan knew his younger half-brother misunderstood their mother, but without being able to find Yang Jingyuan to explain, he was helpless.
Concubine Liu was carried out through the back door and buried not far from the Yang family’s ancestral graves. This was the Yang family custom—concubines who weren’t recorded in the clan registry couldn’t enter the ancestral hall or be buried in the family tomb. Yang Jingshan personally witnessed Concubine Liu’s burial. Looking at the lonely mound of fresh earth, his heart filled with complex emotions. Though Father had favored Concubine Liu, out of consideration for Mother, he hadn’t recorded her in the clan registry. He felt Mother did not need to force Concubine Liu to hand over her properties. Perhaps Father had privately given substantial assets to the concubine and Third Brother as compensation.
Late that night, Yang Jingshan and Yang Jingyan kept vigil together for their father. As it approached midnight, the eternal lamp and incense candles on the altar began to flicker.
“Third Brother! Third Brother, is that you?” The brothers looked around simultaneously.
Yang Jingyuan stood behind them, silently watching his brothers search for him. He held a burning stick of incense, gently blew on it, and let the blue smoke drift toward his elder brothers.
In moments, Yang Jingshan and Yang Jingyan’s heads grew heavy, and they collapsed softly. Yang Jingyuan caught them one by one, carefully laying them down on the reed mats.
If it had been someone of Sheng Fengze’s caliber who came, how could his brothers have avoided it? Yang Jingyuan sighed inwardly. No, he no longer wished to appear as the former Third Young Master of the Yang family.
He walked to the altar and slowly knelt, looking at his father’s spirit tablet as he spoke softly: “Father, rest assured, as long as Sheng Fengze remains in Yizhou, I will protect my two brothers from the shadows. After your burial, I will leave with Master Shu. I won’t disappoint your earnest hopes for me—I will forge my path in the world.”
He planted the incense in the burner and sincerely kowtowed three times.
Turning around, Yang Jingyuan took out a box from his robes and applied some incense to his brothers’ noses: “Elder Brother, thank you for burying my birth mother.”
The cooling sensation at his nose brought Yang Jingshan out of his daze. The moment he opened his eyes, he saw Yang Jingyuan walking away: “Third Brother, don’t go…”
Yang Jingyuan’s heart ached, but he leaped quickly onto the courtyard wall and disappeared into the darkness.
“Elder Brother, what happened just now?” Yang Jingyan awoke to see his elder brother standing at the memorial tent’s entrance. Looking back, he noticed three fresh sticks of incense burning in the altar’s burner. He stood up, “Did Third Brother return?”
Yang Jingshan turned back with a long sigh: “He came, and he left again.”
“Elder Brother, when Third Brother’s emotional knot unties, he will eventually return.”
Perhaps, but who knew when that would be?
Shu Ye waited at Concubine Liu’s grave for a long time before Yang Jingyuan arrived. In the night, this burial ground was deserted. Shu Ye handed him a shovel: “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Yang Jingyuan didn’t answer, just forcefully dug down a shovelful of earth.
The torchlight danced on his face. His handsome features no longer held their former sunny disposition but had gained a hint of severity. As he dug, his voice was so flat it betrayed no emotional fluctuation: “I became aware early on, knowing from a very young age that Concubine Liu was my birth mother. She never held me, always watching me from afar. She never made my shoes, socks, or clothes. I understood—she kept her distance so the main wife would treat me well. Father doted on me more than my elder brothers because he felt guilty toward my mother. She gave birth to me, and this is the only thing I can do for her now. Even Father, who loved her so much, couldn’t do this—I will do it for her!”
Shu Ye patted his shoulder and helped him dig open the grave.
After prying open the coffin, Yang Jingyuan spread out a white cloth and carried out Concubine Liu’s body, placing it on a pre-built pyre.
“To destroy her body like this…” Shu Ye couldn’t help but smile bitterly at Yang Jingyuan’s boldness.
“As long as she can be with Father, even if she turns to ash after death, Mother would be happy. It’s better than being buried alone in this wilderness.” Tears suddenly welled up in Yang Jingyuan’s eyes. He took a deep breath and suppressed the sourness in his heart.
You forced my mother to her death, didn’t you? Didn’t you even want to beat me to death? I insist on letting Mother be buried with Father, together for all eternity and into the next life.
“When I return, I will no longer be Yang Third Young Master, the profligate son living off the Yang family.”
As he spoke, he pulled up the torch and lit the oil-soaked pyre.
The fire blazed in the night. Two flames also rose in the depths of his eyes.
Shu Ye watched as he transformed from a sunny youth into someone cold and solemn in just a few days, uncertain of what taking him away would lead to.
“Brother, what did you say? Yang Third Young Master is ill? Too sick to even attend his father’s seventh-day memorial?” Ji Yingying stood up in shock.
The package of clothes, shoes, and socks made for Yang Jingyuan was returned unopened by Ji Yaoting. On the day of Yang Laoye’s seventh-day memorial, Ji Yaoting went to the Yang residence again. Not only did he not see Yang Jingyuan, but upon inquiring, he learned that Yang Jingshan had fallen ill from excessive grief and was taken away by his master to recuperate.
Ji Yingying’s intuition told her something was wrong. Yang Jingyuan practiced martial arts and had always been healthy—how could he suddenly fall ill?
“That day I saw him walking past the shop carrying incense oil, probably returning from Mount Qingcheng. He was walking too hurriedly, and I worried something had happened, so I asked Uncle Ji Fu to inquire in town. In the following days, the Yang family said he was bedridden. Today I wanted to visit him and bring the clothes we made, but Yang Dalan said he was taken to recuperate by Daoist Huaqing. What illness could be so fierce?” Ji Yaoting also felt something was amiss.
“Could it be the same illness as Mother’s? Sheng Fengze hasn’t left Yizhou Prefecture yet—what if he harmed the Third Young Master?”
The thought that Yang Jingyuan might have fallen victim to Sheng Fengze made Ji Yingying anxious. She paced back and forth in the room before making up her mind: “Brother, I must go to Mount Qingcheng to find him.”
“I won’t be at peace until I see him. He couldn’t even attend Yang Laoye’s seventh-day memorial—something serious must have happened.” Ji Yingying immediately ordered Ling’er to pack for the journey.
“By my calculations, Mother should wake up in about six days. I’ll return before she wakes.”
Sandaoyan was less than a hundred li from Mount Qingcheng. The mountain had Daoist temples and Buddhist monasteries, with many devotees, making it relatively peaceful. Ji Yaoting knew he couldn’t stop his sister, so he said: “Zhu Erlang has many friends. Ask him to find one or two reliable idle helpers to escort you, otherwise, I won’t be at ease.”
Ji Yingying readily agreed.
Early the next morning, the siblings left home to find Zhu Erlang holding horses at the door. Ji Yaoting was surprised: “Erlang, didn’t we just ask you to find a helpful brother? What’s this about?”
Zhu Erlang said sheepishly: “It’s not yet the second day of the second month when the dragon raises its head, so the dye house hasn’t started work. I’m just sitting idle at home anyway. I’ve always wanted to learn from the Qingcheng Daoist masters, so it’s perfect to escort Second Miss there.”
Though these were his words, the Ji siblings could sense his lingering feelings for Ji Yingying. Ji Yingying gratefully said: “Second Brother Zhu, I won’t pretend to decline. Thank you.”
That was enough. Zhu Erlang said cheerfully: “Get in the cart.”
He mounted his horse and turned to Ji Yaoting: “Elder Brother Ji, don’t worry. I will bring Second Miss back safely.”
Watching the two gradually disappear into the distance, Ji Yaoting shook his head again. Zhu Erlang might be a bit slow sometimes, but now it seemed if his sister could marry him, it would be a blessing.
In a small place, even the slightest movement was hard to keep secret, especially from those paying attention.
As soon as Zhu Erlang left Sandaoyan escorting the Ji family’s mule cart, Zhao Ping reported the news to Zhao Xiuyuan.
“Zhu Erlang accompanied Ji Yingying to Qingcheng?” Zhao Xiuyuan laughed. Did Zhu Erlang alone think he could protect Ji Yingying? With Yang Laoye’s death, Yang Jingyuan would have to observe three years of mourning. Their marriage would have to wait until after those three years. He had plenty of time to destroy this marriage arrangement. He contained his smile and murmured: “The Yang family says Yang Third Young Master fell ill and went to Qingcheng to recuperate. Ji Yingying, you immediately followed him there. After years of feelings between us, in less than a year, you’ve developed such deep feelings for Yang Jingyuan. You make it impossible for me not to hate you.”