The room was spotlessly clean, not a speck of dust in sight.
Old Lady Song came in carrying a large teapot and poured three bowls of steaming hot water.
"Knowing you were coming back, the day before yesterday I took your Eldest Aunt and Second Aunt to clean the place from front to back three times, so you could move right in when you arrived."
Old Man Song held the soft and chubby Song Anhao, "The grain in the kitchen is the new rice harvested this year, and there's chopped firewood in the woodshed."
"Tomorrow, I'll have your grandmother kill a chicken and send it over. You can cook for yourselves or come to the old house to eat, whichever you prefer."
Oldest Song stood to the side, nodding. "If you're short of anything, just go to the old house to get it. Father has prepared everything well, he's been looking forward to your return."
Second Song's eyes roamed over the four members of the third branch. After taking off his heavy cloak, he revealed the silk-padded jacket embroidered with flowers, birds, and beasts underneath.
The white jade hair crown on Song Qiming's head, the beaded flowers and silver hairpins in Song Jinzhao and Song Shixue's hair—everything about them screamed expense.
They seemed even more refined than the wealthy Master Zhao in the village.
In just half a year, the third branch had transformed once again.
This was all the benefit that studying had brought.
Once his own son passed the imperial examination and became a scholar, he too could go to the prefectural city and live such an idyllic life.
Thinking that Song Yaozu would advance to the advanced class next year, Second Song said to Song Qiming, "Qiming, after the New Year in February, Yaozu will take the county-level examination. While you're home, you must give him some guidance."
His eldest nephew's literary talent was now even higher than Scholar Zheng's. With half a month of his tutoring, next year's county exam would be a sure success.
After two years of study, Old Man Song was perfectly clear about what kind of performance Song Yaozu had shown at the Zheng family's private school.
"Scholar Zheng said, this time, Yongnian and Yaozu are just taking the county exam for the experience. The main focus is really the year after."
Second Song argued discontentedly, "Yaozu is clever. With Qiming's guidance for half a month, he might just pass."
Old Man Song rolled his eyes. "Always dreaming of pies falling from the sky. If the imperial examinations were that easy, scholars would be everywhere."
"Qiming has finally come home and needs to rest properly. Don't just think about ordering people around."
Second Song opened his mouth to say more, but Oldest Song stepped in front of him, blocking his way and glaring to stop him.
Causing trouble on the very first day back? Be careful, Father will lose his temper.
Second Song unhappily closed his mouth.
Seeing Song Anhao yawning with sleepiness, Old Man Song placed him on the kang and said to Song Jinzhao, "You rest first. When Oldest and Second's wives have the meal ready, Grandfather will come call you."
Song Jinzhao nodded and stood up to see them out. "Thank you, Grandfather. We'll come over ourselves once we're settled."
After the four left, Song Qiming put on his cloak and fetched the spirit money from the carriage.
Outside, the sky was gradually darkening. Song Jinzhao took a torch in case they couldn't see the path on the way back.
Song Shixue, carrying the sleepy Song Anhao, walked in the middle. The cold air blowing on their faces instantly chased away any drowsiness.
The snow at the foot of the mountain was thicker than elsewhere, crunching loudly under their feet.
Song Jinzhao stuck the torch in the ground and, together with Song Qiming, used large bamboo brooms to clear the snow around the tombstone.
The spirit money burned with a piercing light in the charcoal basin. The young Song Anhao looked at the tombstone and called out "Father, Mother" along with Song Jinzhao and the others.
Even though less than half a year had passed, both Song Qiming and Song Shixue felt a sense of change and impermanence in their hearts, as if everything had become different.
By the time the meal was ready, the sky had turned completely dark. Seeing the third branch hadn't arrived, Old Man Song took Oldest Song with him to fetch them.
Arriving at the courtyard gate, he found it closed. Puzzled, he peered through the crack—the room inside was pitch black, nothing visible.
Old Man Song sighed with heartache. "They're probably all asleep. They must be exhausted from traveling for so many days."
Oldest Song turned his head and noticed a flickering light in the direction of the path leading to the back mountain. He muttered, "Who would go up the mountain at this hour?"
In winter, no one in the village dared go into the mountains; even the foothills were avoided at night.
Old Man Song's right hand, which had been about to knock and call out, froze as if paused. He took a step back, gazing toward the end of the light. The guess forming in his mind made his heart ache with a sour feeling.
As the distance closed, faint figures became visible. Old Man Song's voice sounded a bit distant. "Jinzhao."
Song Jinzhao responded, "Grandfather."
As they approached, Old Man Song took the torch to light their way.
"You went to see your father and mother without telling me. Had I known, I wouldn't have left earlier."
Oldest Song walked beside them and said, "It's the same if we go tomorrow. It's not safe at night."
Song Jinzhao smiled faintly. "Qiming and Shixue were both longing to go. They wouldn't have been able to sleep tonight without seeing them."
Old Man Song looked into the distance without a word, the cold wind chilling his eyes.
During the meal, the old couple and the families of Oldest Song and Second Song chattered nonstop. Song Anhao leaned over a cradle, staring at the infant who couldn't yet speak and giggling.
That was Oldest Song's youngest son, Song Yongshi, only two months old, and now the youngest grandchild in the Song family.
Oldest Song's wife smiled, her eyes curving. "Time flies. In just over two years, Anhao has grown so much. He looked a bit like Yongshi when he was born."
Song Anhao frowned, his soft little hands cupping his own cheeks. "Not alike. Anhao is better looking than him."
"Pfft." Song Jinzhao couldn't help laughing, poking Song Anhao's forehead with her finger. "So vain at such a young age. I wonder who you learned that from."
Song Anhao put his hands on his hips, chin held high. "Eldest Sister and Second Sister are both good-looking, so of course I'm not bad either."
Song Qiming teased, "What about your big brother?"
Song Anhao gestured with a tiny gap between his fingers. "Just a little bit worse than me."
Old Lady Song chuckled and praised, "Anhao speaks so fluently, not at all like he's only two."
Quick-witted, clever, and smart, with good looks too—just like the child sitting beneath the Goddess of Mercy.
Song Jinzhao said, "He's met many people and talks a lot. It's all from practice."
Song Shixue picked up Song Anhao and placed him on her lap. "When you were just born, you were thin and small, not even half Yongshi's size. Eldest Sister, Big Brother, and I were all afraid to hold you. Not like now, eating so much every day, I can hardly lift you."
The expressions of Oldest Song and Second Song and their wives tightened slightly. Their hearts skipped a beat, feeling as if these words were somehow aimed at them.
Back then, when Anhao was born premature, their handling of the arrangements for the children had indeed been less than proper, but there had been no other choice.
Now, the third branch was completely different from before. The events of that year were like a thorn, forever impossible to remove. To say they didn't regret it would be a lie.
