Chapter 9
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After receiving a response, the young man pushed open the door to the study. As he stepped inside, he immediately heard a violent coughing sound.
The person sitting behind the desk glanced at him, then, after catching his breath, spoke in a hoarse voice, “Is everything taken care of?”
The young man nodded. “I’ve been in Jiang Cheng for two days, dealt with everything.
The hundred-day memorial for my maternal grandfather has passed, and the people from Yi Shui Manor have been arranged for the dispersal. Those without family have been given some silver and sent off.”
Tan Ci coughed a few more times and nodded in approval. “You did well… it’s just a pity that Yi Shui Manor belongs to your grandfather and…”
He didn’t finish his sentence, and Jing Zhu didn’t give him the chance. The young man’s face resembled his birth mother’s.
When he wasn’t smiling, it looked cold and distant, though it carried a beautiful voice. “Father, I’m going down the mountain.”
Tan Ci’s hand holding the brush paused, then released it as if he had expected this. “It’s fine to go down the mountain. You’re not like Yan’er; she would still ask me about those years…”
The young man furrowed his brow and interrupted, his voice tinged with urgency, “I don’t want to talk about the past. These years, I’ve stayed at the manor for Yan’er and my grandfather. But now, I don’t want to inherit this Zhe Ling sword anymore. This Biling Mountain Manor that has trapped my parents for a lifetime, I don’t want to bear it.”
Tan Ci gave Jing Zhu a deep look, then put down the brush and sat up straight. He nodded. “If you can see it clearly, then go and do what you wish.”
Jing Zhu bowed and prepared to leave, but suddenly heard Tan Ci speak softly, “The Zhe Ling Sword has been sealed for eleven years. As long as I’m alive, it will never leave the mountain. You don’t need to mention it. I know.”
The young man’s figure didn’t linger, and without looking back, he left.
This nap was a little longer than usual, and when he woke up, twilight had just begun to fall. The light from the clouds was weak, and the room was suffused with a suffocating, sunset hue.
A thin layer of sweat had formed on his back, gradually turning cold, sticking to his clothes along with the blanket.
A breeze passed through the corridor, causing the wind chimes to ring in a clear, crisp sound, like someone laughing.
Suddenly, he sat up, flung off the blanket, and ran barefoot to the open diamond-patterned door. He dashed to the corridor, pressed his hand against the pillar, and his fingertips turned white.
Standing under the eaves, he looked at the place where the wind chimes swayed. His voice, still hoarse from just waking, rose in pitch as he gasped unevenly. He asked, “Jiao Jiao, is that you?”
The setting sun was a brilliant red, slowly sinking into the western mountains. Flocks of returning geese circled overhead, passing silently.
In the end, no one answered him…
Just another illusion…
