Chapter Twenty-One: Speaking Only of the Present, Leaving the Past Unspoken

At this moment, the uncle and nephew had already arrived outside Old Man Sun’s courtyard. Within, the air was lively and bustling; many women were busy preparing dishes, while the men stood outside the courtyard, laughing and chatting with the soldiers on horseback. The soldiers Yang Yanliang had brought were as approachable as he was, not carrying the slightest air of military arrogance.

Most delighted among them was Old Man Sun himself, who paraded his grandson Sun Longhu around the neighbors, his previously hunched back now held straight with pride. Although Zhong Ming had heard the general's words earlier, the crowd was so thick that the young man couldn’t discern whom the general had indicated.

After watching for a while, Zhong Ming noticed Yang Yanliang seemed lost in thought as well. Unable to restrain himself, the youth asked, “Uncle, who are you looking at?”

Only when he was questioned did the general come back to himself, shaking his head and murmuring, “It’s nothing. I thought I’d seen an old acquaintance, but perhaps I was mistaken.”

With such a sharp gaze, how could the general mistake someone? Realizing the general did not wish to say more, Zhong Ming did not press further.

Yang Yanliang stood with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing at the courtyard. “It looks like they’re nearly ready. Why don’t we, uncle and nephew, take our seats first?”

“Very well,” the youth agreed, and the two made their way into the courtyard.

As they passed through the crowd, the general cast a seemingly casual glance at Hu the Hunter. Hu was a burly man with a thick beard, standing a head taller than most, making him stand out in the crowd. His robust frame filled out his thin hemp clothes, which hung open to reveal a muscular chest.

When Yang Yanliang walked by, Hu the Hunter fixed his gaze upon him. Their eyes met, and while the general’s expression remained indifferent, Hu’s eyes flickered with uncertainty before he turned away and slipped into a neighboring courtyard.

Inside Old Man Sun’s courtyard, the general and the youth mingled cheerfully with the villagers of Muddy Village, giving no sign of awareness or concern.

Meanwhile, Hu the Hunter entered Li the Carpenter’s home, stooping to duck into the thatched hut and reaching to close the door behind him. The air inside was laced with a faint, pleasant fragrance from a sandalwood sachet in the corner.

The cramped hut was furnished with a few long benches and an Eight Immortals table. Upon the table flickered a dim oil lamp, its small flame casting a meager light, leaving the room still somewhat shadowy.

Around the table sat several people. The beautiful woman Zhong Ming had seen earlier now held a baby swaddled in her arms. Startled by Hu the Hunter’s entrance, the child began to cry, and Lady Li stood, pacing as she sang a gentle lullaby:

“Reeds and rushes flourish, white dew turns to frost; my beloved stands, across the distant stream…”

Her singing, the work of a renowned poet set to music by a famed songstress of the capital, was soft and moving.

At the table sat a boy of eight or nine, his head bobbing as he read aloud from the Collected Poems of Chen, a classic anthology.

Opposite him sat a man with fair skin and handsome features, his brow marked by an air of nobility that not even plain hemp robes and a humble setting could conceal. This was the master of the house, Li the Carpenter.

In his arms sat another boy, perhaps four or five years old, watching intently as his father carved a small wooden figure. Li the Carpenter’s hands were deft, and the figure—a scholar in long robes, his hair tied in the style of a learned youth—was a vivid likeness of Zhong Ming himself.

Noticing Hu the Hunter enter, Li the Carpenter did not look up, but finished carving the figure’s feet, then blew away the wood shavings and said to his son, “Wild, look—doesn’t this look like Brother Zhong Ming?”

“Yes, it’s Brother Zhong! Father, you carved him so well. I want to show Brother Zhong,” the boy cried, clapping his hands and preparing to dash outside.

But Li the Carpenter caught him with a laugh. “No need to rush. Wait a bit—Father will go with you.”

He set the boy on a bench and instructed, “Sit here, be good. Father has something to discuss with Uncle Hu. Afterwards, I’ll take you to see Brother Zhong.”

“All right. But be quick, Father! If we’re late, there may be no crispy cakes left,” the boy replied earnestly.

It turned out Li Wangye had been thinking of Fei Dacheng’s crispy cakes all day, hoping to trade the wooden figure