My Wife Is A Sword Immortal-Chapter 79 - 68: The Lin Brothers
Chapter 79: Chapter 68: The Lin Brothers
Inside a carriage being hastened towards Lanxi.
In the darkness, a man whose body had been tensed suddenly slumped backward, relaxed against the velvet backrest.
A hand reached out, fumbling on the wall of the carriage.
The next second, that hand forcefully pulled back the curtains, and the small window suddenly flooded the carriage with light, brightening the interior completely.
Lin Qingxuan turned his head to look out of the window, it was Lanxi where he had grown up.
The carriage bypassed the line of people waiting to present their visiting cards to the Lin family of Lanxi and drove directly past them, slowly entering the manor.
...
When the carriage stopped, Lin Qingxuan hastedly wiped the sweat from his forehead, took a deep breath, and hurried out of the carriage, rushing to find the young helmsman of the Lin family of Lanxi.
It was an urgent, pressing matter.
————
The sun set over East Mountain, and dusk approached.
Zhao Rong smiled as he said farewell to Lin Wenruo; at the fork in the gallery, they prepared to part ways.
Suddenly, a figure came walking towards them from within the shadow of a tall building not far to the left.
Zhao Rong curiously looked over.
Lin Wenruo, with his back to the figure, seeing Zhao Rong’s gaze directed behind him, couldn’t help but turn around.
As dusk approached, the light dimmed, and the figure in the shadows approached slowly.
Zhao Rong eyed the incoming person a few times. Although the face was somewhat unclear in the darkness, the figure and gait were familiar, and he recognized who it was, reflexively glancing at Lin Wenruo.
Lin Wenruo’s face no longer held the smile from their farewell but instead was serious, with a slight frown, as he looked at the newcomer.
The person within the shadows was about to step into the sunset light where Zhao Rong and Lin Wenruo stood. He spoke up, his voice somewhat hoarse, “Lin Wenruo, I…”
“What did you call me?” Lin Wenruo asked coldly.
“…Family Head, I have something… can you ask him to leave first?” In the shadows, the man seemed to tilt his head slightly towards Zhao Rong.
Zhao Rong gave a light cough, ready to turn and leave to avoid getting involved in the brothers’ affair.
But a voice immediately rose, halting his steps.
“What do you have to say that Ziyu cannot know?”
Lin Wenruo spoke impatiently, “Speak quickly!”
The man who had come from the shadows slowed his pace, falling silent.
His eyes fixed steadily on one of the two men standing in the sunset light, the man who bore some resemblance to him.
He had hurried back at noon, frantically searching for him all afternoon throughout the manor, with no sign of him!
Later, he heard a servant mentioning he saw the master carrying wine, accompanied by a distinguished guest, heading for a stroll in the back mountains.
Tomorrow would be the crucial day for the survival of the Lin family of Lanxi, the debate on Confucianism, and you still have time to drink and roam with others?
The man in the shadow sharply turned his gaze towards Zhao Rong.
It was this poor scholar again!
Lin Wenruo, you’re so eager to suck up to him, but can he really ensure you’re going to win tomorrow’s debate on Confucianism?
And Yuqing, too, so wary of him, asking me to drug him!
What’s so great about this man? Just because he can write a couple of decent poems? No matter how well his doggerel is crafted, does he have what it takes for debate? Our Zhongnan Country is full of debate experts, what is he compared to them?
You all put so much stock in him, one wanting me to kneel and apologize, the other asking me to grovel and drug him!
If it’s for the sake of the Lin family of Lanxi, I’m willing to bow and apologize to him! But if Lin Qingxuan, a man standing tall, is expected to kneel to him?
You can all go to hell! I won’t kneel!
Zhao Rong, mistakenly recognized as a superior horse, sensed the atmosphere turning awkward and heavy, and decided to make a quick exit.
“Wenruo, I still have things to take care of, I’ll leave first. You two take your time,” he said.
Without waiting for Lin Wenruo to respond, he turned and walked away.
After this outsider left, only the Lin brothers remained.
The man about to step out from the shadows glared at Zhao Rong, and after watching him walk away, he turned back, preparing to speak, only to be suddenly cut off by an outburst.
“What is it exactly, spit it out!” Lin Wenruo walked over to the side railing, put his hands behind his back, and faced away, urging him.
The man narrowed his eyes and began hoarsely, “Today, at the Fengqi Building…”
Upon hearing the name of one of Luojing’s most famous courtesan houses, Lin Wenruo’s brow furrowed, and he interrupted coldly, “Bringing me these piece-of-shit problems again, Lin Qingxuan, I’m telling you, if you dare to frolic in such places again, I’ll break your damn legs!”
The setting sun cast increasingly longer shadows on the pavilions and terraces, and the man who had been “chasing” the shadow and was about to step out of the dark halted upon hearing that icy tone.
A bright ribbon delineated by the golden sunset and the dim blackness stretched before them.
One man on this end, one on the other.
One hidden in darkness, and one bathed in light.
It seemed… from childhood to adulthood, it had always been like this. The man in the shadows thought.
Lin Wenruo suddenly turned around, “Are you going to talk or not?”
“It’s… it’s nothing.” The man spoke softly, his face hidden in the darkness, indistinct.
Lin Wenruo pondered for a moment, then pursed his lips and asked, “Really, it’s nothing?”
“Just a trivial matter, no need to trouble you.” The man’s expression was not visible, his voice calm.
Lin Wenruo, with hands clasped behind his back, slowly turned around, glanced at the man, and left without a word.
The sky seemed to grow even darker.
Lin Qingxuan slightly bowed his head, gazing at the line where light and shadow divided beneath his feet, watching it being pushed farther away by the setting sun.
He didn’t step over it to walk onto the winding gallery bathed in the sunset; instead, he turned and walked down the dimly lit path among the trees.
His pace quickened.
He released his right hand, where the nails had dug into the palm, unsteadily reached into his bosom, took out the small porcelain bottle filled with some white, tasteless powder, and clutched it firmly in his hand, now slightly slippery due to some liquid seeping out.
But his mind was no longer on it.
He puffed his cheeks, clenching his teeth tightly.
He needed to hurry back to his own residence.
He needed to prepare thoroughly.
He needed to sincerely apologize to his elder brother and have him accompany him to apologize to that Zhao Ziyu.
He needed to earnestly request that Zhao Ziyu drink a cup of apology wine he had meticulously prepared!
Lin Qingxuan gripped the porcelain bottle in his hand tightly.
You all must die!
He roared in his heart, but for some reason, thinking of such satisfying vengeance, tears uncontrollably rolled down from his eyes.
He silently raised his hand to wipe them away, the sticky liquid from his palm mixing with the hot tears, smearing his face.
Yet, he didn’t stop the movement of his hands, wiping continuously as his pace grew faster and faster, rushing along the secluded paths within the estate, avoiding the bright flames, returning to his dwelling.
The last glint of daylight from the sunset was being released, about to hide behind the row of mountains in the distance.
The man, hurrying with impatience, suddenly stopped by a secluded pavilion near the water.
He froze completely.
He slowly turned his head to gaze at the solitary tree on the open ground in front of the pavilion.
“Is it over?”
He walked blankly to the tree, looking up at the ginkgo tree that they had planted twenty years ago.
The evening breeze passed, and some faint light from distant lanterns provided a glow as the white nuts in the ginkgo leaves swayed ever so slightly with the branches.
He opened his clenched right hand, casually put the porcelain bottle back into his chest, and reached up, suddenly retracting halfway, then vigorously rubbed that hand on his chest before reaching out again, touching two round white nuts on the tree, covering them gently with three fingers, staring directly at them, without blinking.
The tree had grown taller, he remembered when they first planted it, and he, holding a shovel, had measured it against himself; it was only as tall as his eyes. Now, he had to stand on his tiptoes to reach it.
He remembered his father saying with a laugh that it was planted for his grandson, next to the pavilion where he often read, that he wanted to watch it every day, wait for it to bear fruit. And every time when it came to this part, he would rub both his own and his brother’s crown with one hand, look down at the two of them with a broad grin, and say: You two boys, grow up quickly, get married, and give me several plump grandsons.
And at those moments, his brother, who admired their father, would nod earnestly, while he, the beloved son, would duck his father’s warm hand, holding a wooden sword and stubbornly declare that he would ride a great horse to roam the rivers and lakes as a swordsman, not interested in getting married and settling down.
But now, the ginkgo tree had borne white fruit – where were the people from that time?
The year his father hung himself with a white silk, since then he and his brother chose different paths, becoming increasingly estranged. The frequency of their visits diminished year after year, and they even forgot, except for the occasional late night when the thought would suddenly strike them to come for a visit, only to be forgotten again the next day amid various affairs.
Now, not even knowing when it had blossomed, he saw the tree again, and it was already bearing fruits!
The man beneath the tree didn’t know how long he had stood there; at some point, he left as if he had lost his soul.
————
An ancestral hall packed with countless ancestral tablets.
Lin Wenruo, with a bottle of wine in hand, stood at the entrance; he placed the osmanthus wine he had not opened since it was unearthed and had been carrying all afternoon on the steps and slowly stepped inside.
Facing the Lin family tablets of ancestors in Lanxi, the tall Confucian scholar stood silently in the center, speechless.
————
Night fell, and the highly anticipated debate on Confucianism was the very next day. Zhao Rong prepared to rest early, but just as he was about to lie down, he heard someone knocking on the door.
Wearing a robe, he opened the courtyard door to see two men standing quietly outside; they were the Lin brothers, and a maid followed them, carrying a tray.
Zhao Rong touched his nose and invited them in.
Lin Qingxuan watched Zhao Rong for a moment, then offered an apologetic smile, reached for a cup of wine from the maid’s tray beside him, and raised it with both hands.
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“Before, Qingxuan was thoughtless and offended Young Master Zhao. I deeply realize my error, and I hope Young Master Zhao can be magnanimous and forgive Qingxuan!”
Upon finishing, he didn’t wait for Zhao Rong’s response; he drank the wine and then took the only remaining cup on the maid’s tray, presented it respectfully with both hands to Zhao Rong.
Zhao Rong raised his eyebrows and did not immediately take it, instead glancing over at Lin Wenruo, who stood behind the man offering the wine. Seeing Zhao Rong’s gaze, Wenruo offered a helpless smile.
Zhao Rong slightly understood, looked at Lin Qingxuan, who was before him with sincere eyes, and after a moment of silence, took the cup with both hands and drank it in one gulp, inverting the cup to show it was empty.
The man who had reconciled with his brother glanced at the empty wine cup, the corners of his mouth lifting in an utterly sincere expression.
