Chapter 102: Kinship

During the day, the sky was clear and bright, but by night, a persistent, drizzling rain began to fall. The heavens, with their inscrutable moods, sometimes made one wonder if the deity above, unseen by anyone, was perhaps a woman.

Tang Xiaoqi was burdened with worry, her brows deeply furrowed as she carefully replaced the blood-stained white cloth dressing on Lu Liao’s wound. With practiced ease, she applied ointment and wrapped a fresh bandage around it.

“Xiaoqi, over this past year, following Master Weng to learn medicine, you’ve improved remarkably,” Lu Liao said awkwardly, as if grasping at words.

Tang Xiaoqi shook her head, her snow-white fingers gently tracing over Lu Liao’s injury, her face no longer carrying the cheerful brightness of old.

“During my free time, I only help Master Weng organize and copy medical prescriptions; I haven’t truly learned the art of medicine. Seeing your wounds increasing day by day pains me deeply, yet I can do nothing to help. Alas! I am utterly useless.”

Lu Liao leaned over, resting his head on Tang Xiaoqi’s thigh, near her abdomen, listening intently. Though he heard nothing, a joyful smile blossomed on his face.

“Listen, listen! Just now, I felt the little one move slightly.”

Instantly, Tang Xiaoqi’s clouded face brightened with a blissful smile as she shot a glance at Lu Liao.

“It’s only been a little over two months; how could it move already?”

“Hmm, I must think carefully about a name for our precious son—one worthy of such a clever father and such a beautiful mother.”

Lu Liao grew excited, conjuring countless names in his mind but finding none quite right.

“Stop thinking about it. Master Weng has already chosen a name for the child but keeps it secret; no one is allowed to know.”

Tang Xiaoqi’s heart swelled with sweetness. She placed a hand on Lu Liao’s cheek, yearning to hear the heartbeat of the unborn child that did not yet exist.

Neither knew who supported whom as they lay together, clinging to each other on this rainy night. Lu Liao hesitated for a long time, but the words he wanted to say never escaped his lips.

The next day, Lu Liao shut himself in his study, nearly tearing handfuls of hair from his head in frustration, unable to devise a complete solution to their current predicament.

After a day filled with anxiety, just after noon on the second day, the study door was flung open with a loud bang. Lu Manman’s trembling figure appeared, his white beard quivering as he pointed accusingly at Lu Liao, unable to utter a word for a moment.

“Master Weng, what’s wrong?” Lu Liao, pale and worried, hurried over to support the unsteady old man.

Lu Manman shoved him away fiercely. “You unfilial grandson! Kneel before me!”

With a thud, Lu Liao dropped to his knees, his heart pounding wildly like a drum, too fearful to look at his furious and wrathful grandfather.

“Your father took you in as an infant, enduring hardships to raise you. He forbade you from learning the Lu family’s ancestral medical art, insisting you study and enter the civil service to bring honor to the family.

When your father was tragically killed by a rogue thief, you disappeared for years. Upon your return, you told me you had apprenticed under the two great scholars of Shu, promising to pass the imperial examinations and win glory. Do you know how overjoyed I was then? How immensely happy I was!”

Tears streamed down Lu Manman’s face as he spoke. Wiping them away with his sleeve, he resumed his rebuke.

“I am an old, powerless man. After years of teaching disciples, I cannot even provide them with a house to marry in. You, chasing after a mere house, followed the Wang family’s caravan, missing the spring imperial exam and nearly losing your life. Though I am displeased, my heart remained warm, because my dear grandson was striving for the family.”

Lu Manman wept bitterly, and even Lu Liao, kneeling, could not help but let tears fall to the floor.

“A noble man must fight for his future with his own strength. But what have you done, Lu Liao? You secretly participated in the Wang family’s bride selection without telling us. Where do you think that leaves Xiaoqi, carrying your child?”

In a rage, Lu Manman grabbed a broom by the door and struck Lu Liao repeatedly.

Lu Liao kept his head bowed low, not daring to respond, enduring the blows without lifting a hand.

The commotion drew nearly everyone in the Lu household. Seeing their master kneeling, Bai Liangqi and Zheng Hui hurried over and knelt behind Lu Liao.

Exhausted from his tirade, Lu Manman exhaled roughly and pointed to the two young boys behind Lu Liao.

“You, as a teacher, look at the disgrace you have brought upon yourself! Insulting the Sage, stealing your master’s poems—worse, to surpass the Qin family’s son, you even willingly sought to marry into the Wang family, a most shameful act.

Our Lu family has practiced medicine for generations, without noble status or high rank, but we have always been honest and upright. Yet you have tarnished our family’s name, our ancestors’ honor, utterly and completely!”

Lu Manman ceased beating Lu Liao and broke into wailing sobs as if on the brink of despair. Tang Xiaoqi, having just arrived, was shocked and hurriedly, with Ping’er, helped the old man sit down.

“Lu Liao, be honest with me—did you truly ask to marry into the Wang family?” Tang Xiaoqi’s face was pale as she looked at Lu Liao kneeling on the ground.

“Xiaoqi, do you not trust me? I swear, I never asked to marry into the Wang family,” Lu Liao replied, wiping his tears secretly, his gaze steady upon her.

“Now all of Chang’an is gossiping about you—insulting the Sage, stealing your master’s poems, and voluntarily marrying into the Wang family. When she said to marry me, do you know how many laughed at you, laughed at the Lu family? If it weren’t for Old Master Cui, who came to see a patient and strangely congratulated me, your family would still be in the dark. Now, do you still want to deny it?”

Lu Manman, furious beyond reason, reached for the broom again.

Lu Liao gave a bitter smile, finally realizing what the heavy gift from that cunning Wang Yuanbao truly meant. His reputation had likely already been sullied throughout Chang’an.

Tang Xiaoqi glanced at Lu Liao’s sullen face, recalling the leverage Lu Jiu held over him, and felt a chill run through her heart. She immediately suspected that Lu Liao had been coerced by Lu Jiu into his actions.

She knelt before Lu Manman, tears streaming, a pitiful sight.

Lu Manman hastily helped Tang Xiaoqi up, scolding her sternly, “The autumn chill is harsh, and you are with child; do not kneel and beg that beast.”

Turning his gaze hatefully toward Lu Liao, he spat, “Go! Kneel at the ancestral hall and reflect well. I, Lu Manman, would rather lose my old face and my old life than let you marry into that Wang family.”

In the Lu family ancestral hall, candlelight flickered. Lu Liao knelt, dazed, staring at the row of ancestral tablets on the altar. His heart felt hollow, and his body seemed like a soulless shell.

In a haze, the faint figure of his unconventional, loving father, Lu Xiuyuan, appeared, smiling gently at him. Lu Liao reached out to grasp his hand but froze mid-motion. Tears of sorrow and guilt blurred his vision as the faint figure slowly faded away.

He knew well who had killed his father, yet hardly ever entertained thoughts of revenge. Though skilled now in swordsmanship, facing that deeply buried image in his heart—so distant and long ago—he felt powerless to draw his blade.

He had no memory of his early childhood. But every detail since he grew aware was etched deeply in his heart. To him, Lu Xiuyuan was less a father and more a tender mother. He never refused any of his unreasonable demands nor ever struck or scolded him, making the abandoned child rarely think of his biological parents.

A tear hung suspended before his eye, unwilling to fall. Lu Liao made no move to wipe it away, watching as the daylight slowly faded into dusk and then into night.

After an unknown length of time, Lu Liao finally reached out, removing the ancestral tablet at the far end of the altar. His fingers gently caressed the cold surface.

The beloved who once clung so tightly to him was suddenly gone—one in heaven, one beneath the earth. The once warm body had turned into a cold tablet inscribed with “Lu Family, Kang Clan, Aimeer.”

Pressing his lips softly to the inscription, Lu Liao closed his eyes, utterly intoxicated.

Unable to let go, he held the tablet close to his chest, speaking to it as if Aimeer herself were before him.

“Do you remember the grasslands beneath the foot of Tianshan, your homeland? You said the world is like a prison from which we can never escape. Foolish me, arrogant with my extraordinary skills, insisted on taking you with me to roam freely. But in the end, you and our poor child left me early, going to heaven.

Later I understood that to live freely, one must climb higher. The higher I climb, the less I’ll be subject to the whims of powerful family disciples. The less I’ll have to live so cautiously and painfully here in Chang’an.

I want to climb, but the mountain is so high, so steep—it’s so difficult. Sometimes I long for the days in Dongchangyan, dreaming without care.

Less than two years since leaving the mountain, I’ve become so weary and exhausted, yet dare not slacken for fear that I and my family will fall into an abyss without return.

How I long to rest in your arms, to think of nothing and sleep peacefully.”

Cradling the tablet, Lu Liao’s head drooped lower and lower.

With a creak, the ancestral hall door gently opened, and a piercing light shone in, rousing Lu Liao. Squinting, he saw Zhou Liuzi entering, carrying a bowl of thin porridge.

Lu Liao did not glance at the porridge but anxiously asked, “Is Master Weng all right?”

“The elder left early this morning and instructed that until he returns, you must not leave,” Zhou Liuzi sighed softly, stubbornly setting the porridge before Lu Liao.

The autumn wind blew cold, leaves withered and yellow.

A frail, stooped old man stood shivering before a heavily guarded mansion on South Pingkang Street, peering cautiously but never daring to approach or speak to the stern guards.

The grand residence of the great Tang chancellor, who had held office for nearly seventeen years, stood just across from the most magnificent brothel in Pingkang District, the Tianxian Tower. Only the powerful Minister Li Linfu seemed indifferent to this proximity.

Rubbing his aching back and legs, Lu Manman gazed anxiously at the rarely used gate. Long ago, he had saved the life of the Tang chancellor’s mother. But after so many years and the chancellor’s rise to power, would he still remember that kindness and help the family through their hardship?

The white-haired elder stood for more than two hours in the autumn wind until two Golden Guards cleared pedestrians from the street, and a grand procession of armored knights escorted a black carriage slowly approaching.

Lu Manman bent his knees with difficulty and knelt by the roadside.