Translator: DragonRider
Ling Zhang had thought he’d forgotten this man’s face, that he might not be able to recognize him even if he was standing right in front of him, but the fact was that the moment he clapped eyes on him, he came to know this person was his father, the swirling mist in his mind quickly dissipating, revealing those memories which were so real.
People here had been taking good care of him. His face was very clean, without the stubble of untrimmed beard or tousled hair that Ling Zhang had expected to see. Instead, his hair had been neatly tied up. However, his cheeks were very thin, so thin that they were sunken. His complexion was sickly and pallid, and he smelled of medicine, as though he’d been taking drugs instead of having meals for a long time.
Yuwen Tong consolingly tightened his grip on Ling Zhang’s hand and then gently released it and told Ling Zhang to go to the bedside to see his father.
Ling Zhang stood straight beside the head of the bed, gazing at the man lying in it, lips pressed tightly together, eyes prickling with tears uncontrollably. He recalled his childhood, how broken-hearted he’d been and how hard he’d wailed after this man left home; he also recalled that in his last incarnation, after the Ling family were exterminated, this man had still never shown up, and that Ji Yin had told him this man had almost died of grievous injuries, been comatose for many years and only suddenly come to half a year ago but become a retard owing to mental disorder.
It was quite a while before Ling Zhang sat down, eyes still on this man who should’ve given him piggybacks and taken him to stroll along the streets when he’d been a little boy. After a long time, the sorrow inside him gradually ebbed away. He realized that he’d grown up after all, and no longer had those intense expectations buried under bitter complaints or needed his father to put him on his shoulders in the streets. Soon he’d get married and have a family of his own, and might adopt a boy and piggyback him in the streets to have fun if that was what life held in store for him.
Yes, he’d grown up and was no longer a child. He had to stop being childish and start being a poised adult.
“Father.”
Ling Zhang swallowed hard to fight back the sadness, complexity, grudge, anticipation and joy, calming himself down.
“He’s drunk some decoction. It’ll be another hour before he–”
Mr. Mu wanted to tell Ling Zhang that Ling Zhaowu wouldn’t wake up until an hour later, but before he could finish his sentence, the man in bed suddenly moved slightly. His hands which had been lying quietly on his chest twitched and then his fingers bent briefly, as though he was about to awake.
Astonished, Mr. Mu looked at Ling Zhaowu with a quizzical expression on his face.
This detail escaped Ling Zhang’s notice. Fixing Ling Zhaowu’s face with an intent stare, he called again, “Father.”
This time, his voice was much more collected and louder than that of the last call.
He contemplated Ling Zhaowu expectantly, hoping to see him wake up. He’d heard Mr. Mu say that it’d be an hour before Ling Zhaowu awoke, but he’d still involuntarily called him again.
Right at this moment, Ling Zhaowu who had been lying with his eyes closed all along had a twitch in his eyelids, as though he was trying hard to lift them.
Ling Zhang found himself holding his breath, staring unblinkingly at the pair of eyes.
All the others also looked at Ling Zhaowu.
Ling Zhaowu’s eyelids twitched once again and then, slowly, he opened his eyes.
Stupefied, Ling Zhang looked at his open eyes, which were very clear but also seemed to be quite bemused. He first glanced at the ceiling, then turned to look at Ling Zhang, his eyes dilating slightly as they met Ling Zhang’s. Almost believing that Ling Zhaowu recognized him, Ling Zhang subconsciously tensed his back.
But Ling Zhaowu merely eyed him for a while and then asked, “Wh–Who are you?”
Ling Zhang’s tense back muscles instantly relaxed at this question, his eyes still on Ling Zhaowu with a mixed expression in them. “I’m Ling Zhang.”
But Ling Zhaowu didn’t seem to have understood him and asked “Who are you?” again, sitting up from his bed, which was a rather hard job due to a lack of strength in his arms.
Yuwen Tong stepped up and carefully supported him into a sitting position. “Uncle Ling.”
“Wh–Who are you?” Ling Zhaowu shifted his gaze to Yuwen Tong, his eyes much warier than they’d been when on Ling Zhang and a trifle frightened, too. Somewhat afraid of physical contact with Yuwen Tong, he flinched.
On noticing this, Yuwen Tong withdrew his hands, backed away several paces to avoid putting Ling Zhaowu under pressure and replied, “My family name is Yuwen. I’m the grandson of Yuwen Qian whom your father rescued in that year. There’s a marriage contract between our families, and I’m the one betrothed to Ling Zhang. My given name is Tong.”
Frowning, Ling Zhaowu still couldn’t understand. His eyes strayed off Yuwen Tong, searching for a familiar face in spite of himself, and brightened abruptly as they fell on Mr. Mu. Almost immediately, he sprang out of bed and called in excitement, “Mr. Mu!”
He hid himself behind Mr. Mu. An adult as he was, he clung to Mr. Mu like a child, but after hiding himself, he still couldn’t help looking at Ling Zhang.
Ling Zhang was dumbfounded by this scene. His father…
Mr. Mu comfortingly patted Ling Zhaowu’s shoulder. “Don’t be afraid. He’s your son. He came here to see you.”
“My son?” Bewildered, Ling Zhaowu merely stared at Ling Zhang.
Ling Zhang, being watched by his eyes, almost came to believe that this person in front of him was actually not an adult but a kid.
At this moment, Mr. Mu said with a sigh, “He’d been lying for too many years, and it took a very long time for him to regain enough mobility to walk unaided. This is the first time that I’ve seen him move so nimbly. Currently, his intelligence level is approximately the same as that of a three or four-year-old child, but he scares more easily than a kid. I find this very strange–his condition seems to have been caused by some kind of highly traumatic experience, as though something hurt him really bad, but the Clan Leader once looked into his background and discovered that he’d been totally sane and never been subjected to any traumatic events before being attacked. Theoretically, he has some kung fu skills, and although he was injured during an assault, his intelligence shouldn’t have been reduced to that of a child. My guess is that he just lay for too long.”
But in fact, this explanation had always struck Mr. Mu as a little far-fetched.
“The Clan Leader is a shrewder judge of character than any of us. Since he said that your father sustained severe mental trauma, I think he was probably right about it. It’s just that none of us has any clue that might lead us to the source of his condition,” Ji Yin also said.
“Severe mental trauma?” Ling Zhang was confused. After thinking for a few moments, he said, “Is it possible that this has something to do with my mother’s death?”
Mr. Mu replied, “That’s definitely part of the reason. Back then when he just came around, he kept talking deliriously. Sometimes he murmured your mother’s name and talked about resurrecting her; sometimes he called your name and said that he failed you, your grandfather and your uncle. He called all your family’s names and kept apologizing. At that time he had a fever and uttered a lot of delirium. After his fever went down, he didn’t remember saying any of those words. Those were really trying times for me.”
Ji Yin had told Ling Zhang about this before, but his account hadn’t been as detailed as this one. On hearing the part about his father saying he failed them, Ling Zhang, inevitably, felt another twinge of sorrow. At the sight of Ling Zhaowu who was hiding behind Mr. Mu and secretly appraising him all along, the look in Ling Zhang’s eyes became very mixed.
Of all these people in the room, Ling Zhang was the only one that Ling Zhaowu was staring at, and there was no fear in his eyes, just uncertainty and curiosity. This made all the others felt that blood is thicker than water, that the two of them were father and son after all, and there seemed to be some kind of unique connection between them.
“It surprises me that he still remembered all of my family,” said Ling Zhang, a myriad of thoughts whirling around in his mind.
He even couldn’t help but recall that in his last incarnation, when his grandfather had left this place to look for him, the Ling family definitely have already been wiped out, and he wondered whether or not this man had recovered from his mental condition and felt any regret. His lips clamped tightly together at these thoughts, and he was unable to speak, what with his fear that he might let his emotions show if he said anything.
Mr. Mu sighed, “Prime Elder knows about this better than any of us. I mean, after all, Prime Elder was the first to notice him wake up.”
Ji Yin also let out a sigh. “Yes. I remember it very clearly. First he gave a vague account of what happened to your mother–that’s how your mother’s death came to my knowledge–and then he kept calling your name, as though some painful memories were troubling him. He repeatedly uttered your name, murmuring ‘I’m sorry’. After a long time, he began to call people’s names–a lot of them, probably everybody of the Ling family, I think.”
“Tell me about it.” Mr. Mu flicked a glance at Ling Zhaowu who was hiding behind him. “He mentioned ‘Father’, ‘Younger Brother’, ‘Nephew’ etc. Is there a certain Butler Li in your family? Anyway, he called a whole bunch of names which didn’t seem to belong to your family members.”
Ling Zhang said in a hoarse voice, “Butler Li is the butler of my family. The others were probably servants’ names.”
Mr. Mu nodded. “That figures.”
At this time, Yuwen Tong suddenly inquired, “He mentioned his nephew?”
Mr. Mu answered unhesitatingly, “Yeah. He did. Is there a problem?”
Yuwen Tong, with a somewhat peculiar look on his face, looked at Ling Zhang.
Ling Zhang didn’t catch on immediately to what Yuwen Tong meant. He was still staring fixedly at Ling Zhaowu, trying to find something in his childish bearing. If possible, he hoped Ling Zhaowu didn’t really have a mental disability, for there were a lot of questions he wanted to ask Ling Zhaowu.
On observing Yuwen Tong specially look at him, he looked back in confusion, but slowly, something seemed to dawn on him, his eyes gradually widening, gazing squarely at Ling Zhaowu, as though he’d came to realize some kind of amazing fact.
“What’s wrong?” Mr. Mu was thrown into perplexity. Even Ji Yin couldn’t understand what this was about.
Ling Zhang made no reply. Such was his shock that he was unable to give them an explanation.
His nephew? Ling Maomao was only seven years old, and Ling Zhaowu had left home many years ago, long before Ling Maomao’s birth! How had he come to know that Ling Zhaowen had a son?
