Chapter 8: Parting in Sorrow

Lu Tingfang gazed at the child in his arms for a long while, silent, before suddenly shoving him away with force. The nine-year-old Lu Xin was thrown to the ground at once; he was simply too small and weak to hold on to anyone.

“Brother?”

The ground was strewn with stones, scraping Lu Xin’s skin painfully. Yet he made no sound, his eyes swollen and red, staring unblinkingly at Lu Tingfang. He was terrified—never before had he been so afraid. He wished desperately for the person before him to stay, to remain by his side. But the young man no longer looked back, turning away with finality.

“Xiao Xin, I’ve told you before. Since I’ve come to this world, I must make my mark here. To achieve merit and establish a name, to vie for supremacy—that’s what fate has laid out for me. You’ve seen it too; this world is not as we imagined. It is vast, mysterious, strange, and frightening. Master was right: the journey to Chang’an is full of uncertainty and danger. Bringing you along would only harm you.”

“But—but I don’t want to live alone. I can’t survive on my own. I’ll die, brother!”

Lu Xin cried out as he scrambled up, his palms scraped raw and bleeding. He felt no pain, only a desperate urge to cling to Lu Tingfang. But the man in white was already gone, as was Lu Tingfang himself. The master and disciple seemed to melt into the wind, striding away so swiftly that in a blink, they were at the edge of sight.

“Go home, child. Live a peaceful and safe life—that is your destiny, and perhaps your blessing…”

“Xiao Xin, listen to me and go back. Grandpa Tu is still there; he’ll look after you. When my cultivation bears fruit, I’ll come back for you. I promise.”

“Brother! Tingfang! Slow down—I can’t keep up—wait for me—please…”

Lu Xin chased after them with all his strength, stumbling along the rough, muddy path, falling, rising, and falling again. He lost count of how many times he repeated this, or how long he ran, until at last he spent his final ounce of energy and could no longer get up.

The earth was hard and the wind was cold. When Lu Xin opened his eyes, all he could see was the vast blue sky. There were no clouds, no birds—like an endless sea with no horizon, no direction. Everything was so unfamiliar, so cold he could feel no warmth at all.

His head throbbed, and in his ears echoed the words of the man in white: “This is your fate, this is your fate…”

“Brother, I don’t want this destiny. I don’t want to be alone all my life. I want to go home. Grandpa is waiting for us, and so are our parents…”

Dazed, Lu Xin’s gaze grew unfocused and heavy, until sleep overcame him.

By the time he returned home, dusk had already fallen. The sun had set behind the mountains, leaving the world in shadow. Lu Xin stood at the door, afraid to enter; he hadn’t figured out how he would explain his cousin’s departure to Grandpa Tu, nor did he know how he himself would go on.

“Xiao Xin? You’re finally back. Where’s your brother? Hurry up and come in—something terrible has happened! Why are you just standing there?”

A sudden shout jolted him from his thoughts. He turned and saw that it wasn’t Grandpa Tu calling him, but Aunt Li from the other side of the mountain. She was a kind-hearted middle-aged woman, but her face was drawn and anxious.

“Aunt Li, what brings you here today…”

Lu Xin forced a smile. He didn’t want anyone to see his weakness. But Aunt Li didn’t let him finish. She grabbed his arm and pulled him inside with surprising strength, enough to make his wrist twitch in pain. Then, all his wounds began to ache.

“Aunt Li, it hurts. Please, let go…”

“Xiao Xin, your Grandpa Tu fell from the roof at noon. He’s gravely injured—the doctor says there’s nothing to be done. He… he won’t make it…”

She seemed not to hear him, just pulled him to the bedside and began to weep. But her words crashed over Lu Xin like thunder on a clear day, leaving his mind buzzing.

“Dying… he’s dying?”

Lu Xin lowered his head and saw that the old man’s face was deathly pale, his lips cracked, his breathing so faint it was barely there. His nose stung—he wanted to cry, but his tears had long since run dry.

“Grandpa Tu, please wake up. Don’t leave me… If you go too, then I…”

Blow after blow had left young Lu Xin utterly lost. Kneeling by the bed, he could barely form words.

“It’s been raining a lot lately, and you boys’ beds were getting soaked. Your Grandpa Tu wanted to fix the leak, but the roof was too slippery… He just slipped and fell…”

“No, no, Grandpa Tu won’t die. He’s such a good man—how could he fall? You must be lying!”

“Xiao… Xiao Xin…”

The old man slowly opened his eyes. His pupils were dim, the words barely intelligible. Lu Xin gripped his hand, leaning in to listen.

“Don’t be afraid, listen… listen to Grandpa… I’m… I’m dying… You must, must live well.”

“Grandpa Tu, please stop talking! Just rest, I’ll fetch the doctor, you’ll get better!”

“Xiao Xin, don’t… don’t go. Listen… The jade pendant Grandpa gave you—it will protect you. Never, never lose it. And… don’t let anyone see it, remember?”

“I remember, Grandpa, I remember… sob…”

Though his eyes had no more tears, Lu Xin wept quietly—a soundless, wrenching grief no one else could perceive or share.

In a single day, he had endured the partings of a lifetime. So young, he was already utterly alone.

The old man finished his last words and closed his eyes, passing away in peace. But his hand still clung tightly to Lu Xin’s, unwilling to let go. The boy knelt there by the bed, unmoving as night fell and darkness deepened. Half an hour passed, then an hour. Lu Xin’s mind replayed all the old man had done for him: weaving cloth, cooking, bathing him, gathering herbs in the mountains, even slaughtering the family’s only egg-laying hen for his sake, and entrusting him with the ancestral jade pendant.

In just half a month, the old man had given him everything he could.

Lu Xin could not forget these memories, for they were the first warmth he had ever known—something even his own parents and grandfather had never given him.

“Xiao Xin, you’ve knelt for an hour now; that’s enough to show your respect. Get up—the floor is damp and you’re still young. If you keep kneeling, you’ll ruin your health.”

Aunt Li, seeing him unmoving, wept with pity. She tried to help him up, but he blocked her hand.

“Let me kneel a bit longer. Grandpa’s gone—I’ll never have a chance to repay him. This is all I can do now… Aunt Li, did you know? I’ve always been thoughtless—everyone says I’m heartless. But I do have a heart. I feel pain. I’m not ungrateful, I have a conscience. I wanted Grandpa Tu to have a good life… But why, why won’t heaven give me a chance or enough time to grow up? Why…?”

“Don’t be like this, Xiao Xin. Get up. It’s cold—let me dress Grandpa for burial. When the seven days have passed, I’ll go to the temple and ask a monk to cremate him.”

“Cremate?”

At the mention of cremation, Lu Xin finally looked up. He didn’t understand—how could Grandpa Tu, who had toiled his whole life, not even leave a complete body behind?

“Alas, the wars these years have left all the men in our families dead. Sometimes we’re so poor we can’t even put rice on the table. How could a family like ours afford a coffin? If we had the money, forget your Grandpa Tu—even I would have made arrangements by now. Xiao Xin, being able to have a monk from the temple cremate him is already the best we can do.”

“No, I won’t let Grandpa be reduced to ashes. He told me his greatest wish was to have someone see him off at the end of his life. I couldn’t repay him while he lived, but in death, I must let him go in peace!”

Lu Xin seemed to have grown up overnight, his voice calm and resolute. As soon as he finished, he dashed out of the house. Aunt Li could not stop him and could only sigh, starting to search for clean clothes inside.

The night was bitterly cold, winds howling mournfully. In the darkness, Lu Xin ran all the way to the town. He knew a wealthy man might still be there, and he was willing to try his luck, even to beg if he must.

Xixi Town was famous for its City God Temple, drawing pilgrims from distant lands. Over time, merchants settled there and set up businesses. The town’s busiest street had everything one could wish for, and the finest inn was called Bamboo Dream House. Lu Xin had been there once with Lu Tingfang, so he knew it. If Master Xu from the Yuezhou Prefecture was still in town, he would surely be staying at Bamboo Dream House.

By the time Lu Xin arrived, it was already deep into the night. But the inn was still lit, with county guards stationed at the door. Lu Xin breathed a sigh of relief; it seemed the Xu family was indeed inside.

“I’d like to see Master Xu Sanjin. Sirs, could you please tell him I’m here?”

His local dialect was still rough, and he could only understand the official Tang court language with difficulty. Facing the county soldiers for the first time, he was visibly nervous. The guards looked him over, saw only a ragged, filthy child, and their faces were expressionless.

“The county magistrate is inside discussing matters with Master Xu. No outsiders allowed. Leave, now.”

“I won’t go. I have important business with Master Xu!”

“Oh? You little beggar, what did you say? You won’t leave?”

Having fallen so many times that day, Lu Xin’s clothes were tattered and soiled, his face caked with mud—he looked every inch a beggar. The guards, fearful of blame, would never admit such a child. One drew his sword when Lu Xin refused to go.

“I’m not a beggar! Let me in! Let me in!”

“Hmph, where did this little brat come from? Refusing kindness, seeking punishment—seems you want to die!”

The guard sneered, raising his blade. Just then, the inn door opened and a burly middle-aged man stepped out.

“What’s all this commotion in the middle of the night?”

The guards all turned and bowed respectfully. Lu Xin looked up and recognized the county constable he had seen earlier at the City God Temple.

“Sir, this little beggar insists on seeing Master Xu. The magistrate ordered that anyone who tries to force entry is to be executed, so I…”

“Hmph, he’s just a child. Would you kill a child? What would that make our county office?”

The constable snorted, then descended the steps. When he saw Lu Xin’s face, his brow furrowed slightly.