The main hall of the Fugui Courtyard was filled with a slightly awkward atmosphere.
Zhou Dahe sat upright at the lower seat.
His dark complexion was etched with helplessness.
His thick eyebrows and large eyes drooped slightly, the corners of his mouth curled into a half-smile—half amused, half resigned—and he exuded an air of weary acceptance, as if saying, "I’ve gotten used to this."
Pei Cijing stood in the center of the hall, his gaze flickering back and forth between his third uncle, his maternal grandfather, and his own mother. Question marks popped up one after another in his mind.
It was like a pot of porridge boiling over, bubbling nonstop.
He remembered his third uncle.
Of course he did.
His maternal grandfather, Zhou Youfu, had three sons and one daughter: the eldest son Zhou Dahai, the second son Zhou Dajiang, the third son Zhou Dahe, and the daughter was his own mother, Mrs. Zhou.
When he was a child, his grandfather once brought the three uncles to the Marquis’s mansion in the capital for a visit.
Back then, his third uncle was chubby and round-faced, like a jovial Maitreya Buddha. He greeted everyone with a smile, spoke slowly and calmly, and had the gentlest temper among the three uncles.
But the man before him now—
Pei Cijing’s eyes scanned Zhou Dahe several times, yet he just couldn’t connect this strong, dark-skinned man with the plump, smiling uncle from his memories.
He opened his mouth, his tone tinged with innocence and a hint of grievance: “Third Uncle, you really can’t blame me. You’ve changed so much—darker, thinner, even your whole demeanor is different.”
He spread his hands, wearing an expression that said, “I’m just stating the facts.”
No sooner had he finished speaking—
A sharp smack landed on the back of his head.
“Smack!”
It wasn’t hard, but the crisp sound echoed clearly in the hall.
Mrs. Zhou withdrew her hand, hands on her hips, her brows furrowed in displeasure as she glared at her son: “You brat, you can’t even recognize your own third uncle, and you still have the nerve to talk back?”
Pei Cijing rubbed the back of his head, looking pitifully at his mother. His lips moved as if to argue, but in the end, he wisely kept quiet.
Nearby, Pei Fugui covered his mouth, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.
He was struggling to hold it in.
Just now, his wife hadn’t recognized her own younger brother either. She’d stood there stunned for a long moment until Grandpa spoke up and introduced him as her brother.
The scene back then—
Stunned, frowning, scrutinizing, disbelief.
She froze in place like someone had struck a pressure point, then suddenly lunged forward, grabbing her brother’s hand, crying and laughing at the same time. Tears and snot smeared her face, completely abandoning her usual composed demeanor.
And now she was scolding her son.
Pei Fugui silently watched everything unfold, not even thinking of intervening. In his heart, it was as clear as a mirror—his wife scolding their naughty son was perfectly justified!
If he dared to butt in, he’d be the next one to get slapped.
That said—
This brat did have a good heart.
Not long ago, he had secretly slipped him a box of vitality pills, said to be prescribed by Doctor Hua, with excellent effects. At first, he didn’t believe it, thinking the boy was just teasing him.
But after trying it once—
Ahem!
The results were indeed impressive.
It gave him such a surge of vigor, he felt like he could take charge of the second household with newfound confidence.
But this filial piety, he could only keep it in mind for now, lest the fire spread to himself. After all... he didn’t even recognize his brother-in-law.
Pei Fugui clamped his mouth even tighter, his eyes narrowing into two slits as he continued watching the scene unfold. That look of schadenfreude on his face made him look just like a cat caught stealing fish.
Zhou Dahe watched his sister chasing after her nephew to scold him, then glanced at his brother-in-law, who looked like he wanted to watch the fun but dared not make a sound. He couldn’t help but smile and waved his hand, saying, “Sis, you can’t really blame Cijing for this. After I went to sea, I changed quite a lot. Even Dad didn’t recognize me at first.”
His tone carried a mix of helplessness, amusement, and a touch of calmness born from weathering many storms.
As he spoke, he cast his gaze toward Zhou Youfu.
In that look, there was helplessness, teasing, and a hint of grievance, clearly saying: Dad, don’t just stand there watching, you’re no better yourself.
Zhou Youfu had been sipping tea.
At those words, his hand trembled.
The tea nearly spilled, a few drops splashing onto his clothes, and he didn’t even bother wiping it off.
He put down the teacup, and the expression on his face was priceless—awkward, guilty, and with just a hint of embarrassed anger.
Zhou Dahe went on, “I remember the first time I went to sea, I brought people and cargo, and was happily returning home. But you—when you saw us—you just collapsed on the ground, crying and wailing, saying I was ‘gone.’”
He paused, his voice soft and lingering, as if he had kept this in his heart for a long time and was only now letting it out: “I’ll remember that scene for the rest of my life.”
Silence fell over the room.
Pei Fugui couldn’t hold back any longer and burst out laughing, immediately covering his mouth and pretending to cough so violently it seemed painful. The Zhou family women couldn’t hold it in either; their lips twitched, and though they tried to suppress it, they eventually turned away, their shoulders trembling slightly.
Pei Cijing laughed with eyes curved into crescents, and all the little grievances in his heart vanished in an instant.
Third Uncle, you’re absolutely right!
It turned out Grandpa had done the same thing. If he didn’t recognize him, then it was completely understandable.
Zhou Youfu’s face was a spectacle.
Flushing red, then pale white, like a dye house in chaos or an actor changing masks on stage.
He opened his mouth as if to say something but felt too guilty to argue and couldn’t muster the courage to get angry. He could only mutter in a tiny voice, “You brat, you really plan to remember that forever, huh?”
His voice was so soft it sounded like a mosquito’s hum, lacking any of the authority of a family patriarch.
He paused, then added with a hint of grievance, “I was worried about you! You were at sea for two whole years, changed so much, and I couldn’t find you at first. I thought you... I thought you...”
“Thought I was ‘gone’?” Zhou Dahe cut in, his tone teasing but with a thin layer of moisture in his eyes.
Zhou Youfu glared at him.
But said nothing in reply.
The atmosphere in the room subtly stiffened. The lighthearted laughter from before gradually faded, replaced by a faint bittersweetness.
Outside the window, birds chirped softly, making the silence feel even deeper.
Seeing the situation, Shen Ninghuan took a gentle step forward, her voice soft and warm, carrying just the right touch of understanding as she spoke, “Third Uncle, please don’t blame Grandfather. After all, elders always want the best for us younger ones, right? Having been away at sea for so long, Grandfather is just worried about you.”
She paused briefly, then looked toward Zhou Youfu, then to Zhou Dahe, her eyes clear and tender, like a spring brook in the sunshine. “Grandfather cares too much about Third Uncle, which is why he lost his composure. That kind of concern is more precious than anything else.”
Well said.
Her words gave Zhou Youfu a graceful way to step down from the tension, while also soothing Zhou Dahe’s heart, and subtly highlighted the deep bond between father and son. Every word struck straight to the core.
Everyone in the hall listened, nodding quietly in approval.
Pei Cijing couldn’t help but give his wife an enthusiastic thumbs-up in his heart.
Look at this!
This is the art of speaking.
Perfectly balanced, just right—easing Third Uncle’s mind, saving Grandfather’s face, and turning the atmosphere from awkwardness into warmth.
Zhou Dahe’s expression gradually softened, the bitterness fading away, replaced by a flicker of emotion. He was silent for a moment, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly.
Then he turned around.
Solemnly, he bowed to Zhou Youfu.
“It was my unfilial behavior that caused you worry, Father.”
Zhou Youfu looked at his son’s darkened face, the lean figure standing before him—a stark contrast to the image in his memory—and his eyes suddenly grew moist.
He remembered when Dahe was still plump and fair; now, the man before him had high cheekbones, skin dark as if inked, and was so thin he seemed almost emaciated.
Yet those eyes shone brighter than before, sparkling like stars in the night sky.
He stood up and took a few steps forward, gripping Zhou Dahe’s hand firmly.
The hand was rough, the palm thick with calluses, knuckles large, and the back of the hand bore several scars—some old and faded white, others still faintly pink.
Zhou Youfu gently rubbed over the scars again and again, as if trying to soothe them all. His voice was hoarse but every word was heartfelt: “Dahe, you’ve worked hard all these years.”
Those few words carried the weight of a thousand pounds.
Father and son exchanged a glance.
In that look,
there were a thousand unspoken words,
none needing to be voiced aloud.
Everyone in the hall who witnessed this scene was moved. Pei Fugui quietly sniffled, pretending he had something in his eye and blinked hard. The Zhou family matriarch’s eyes reddened as she pressed a handkerchief to the corner of her eye, a small damp patch blooming on the fabric.
Pei Cijing fell silent too, no longer making jokes.
He stood quietly on the side, watching the hands of grandfather and third uncle clasped together, a complex feeling stirring deep inside him—this was family: noisy and quarrelsome, laughing and crying, but in the end, their hearts were always intertwined.
Shen Ninghuan remained standing quietly, a faint smile curving her lips, her gaze gentle as she watched the scene unfold.
She said nothing more—such warmth between family
should never be interrupted.
It was enough to simply watch in silence.
Zhou Dahe clasped his father’s hand in a reversed grip, falling silent for a moment before slowly speaking. His voice carried a blend of nostalgia, relief, and a calm acceptance that came from having survived a great ordeal.
“Setting sail on the open sea is truly no easy feat.”
He paused, his gaze drifting into the distance, as if recalling memories or staring out toward that faraway ocean.
“The waves out there are fierce. Sometimes a single swell would hit the ship so hard it felt like it might capsize. You couldn’t even stand steadily on the deck—you had to tie yourself to the mast with ropes just to keep from being thrown overboard.”
“When a storm hit, that was the scariest of all—pitch-black skies, black seas, impossible to tell where the sky ended and the ocean began. Wave after wave crashed down, the ship tossed atop the crests, always on the verge of being swallowed whole.”
“At times, I thought to myself…”
“This time, I might really end up buried in the sea.”
“And then there were the hidden reefs, pirates, diseases… each one deadly in its own right.” As he spoke, his tone gradually brightened, as if he was savoring a peculiar flavor extracted from those harrowing days.
“But the rewards were definitely worth it.”
“The goods we brought back from overseas could fetch several times the price in Da Qian. Spices, gems, ivory, pearls, coral… these were treasures in Da Qian, but common goods in those distant lands. We traded tea, silk, and porcelain, and the locals were more than happy to make the exchange.”
“Plus, we got to see sights no one in Da Qian had ever laid eyes on.”
His eyes lit up, shimmering like a piece of the sea itself.
“The sky there is bluer than Da Qian’s, the sea greener—blue so clear it shines, green so deep it feels endless. There’s a kind of bird with feathers so brilliantly colored, it looks like a rainbow descending from the sky when it flies. And a tree with leaves bigger than a basin—when it rains, the local children use them as umbrellas, running through the streets holding them high.”
“The girls there…” He suddenly realized he might have said something he shouldn’t have, clearing his throat and swallowing the rest of the sentence. Yet a faint blush crept up around his ears.
“In any case, I definitely gained a lot of new experiences.”
Zhou Youfu listened quietly, the corner of his mouth twitching. The pang of worry he’d felt moments before quickly faded, replaced by a sudden urge to give his son a good scolding—though he wisely held back.
Instead, he shot him a sharp look that said it all: “We’ll settle this later.”
Snapping back to the present, Zhou Dahe turned to Pei Cijing, his eyes now filled with solemn gratitude.
“But the reason we made it back safely was thanks to that set of navigation manuals Cijing gave us.”
He hesitated, gathering his thoughts as if recalling those life-or-death days guided by the manual.
“That book didn’t just have routes, sea charts, wind directions, and ocean currents. It also detailed how to defend against pirates, how to keep the ship safe during storms, how to spot hidden reefs, how to replenish fresh water and food… every single piece of knowledge was a lifesaver. Some of it was wisdom earned over a lifetime—worth more than any amount of money.”
“Before we set out, we followed every instruction in the book to the letter. How to tie the ropes on the ship, how to stack the cargo, which direction to steer when storms hit—we practiced everything over and over again.”
“If it weren’t for this ancient text and all the thorough preparations, I might not have made it back at all.”
Zhou Dahe walked up to Pei Cijing, stopped in front of him, then straightened his collar. With both hands clasped together, he gave a solemn bow.
“Cijing, your third uncle thanks you.”
The bow was steady and sincere, without a trace of insincerity. Every line on his darkened face spoke of earnestness.
Pei Cijing was startled by the sudden gesture and quickly stepped aside. He reached out to support Zhou Dahe. “Third uncle! What are you doing? Please get up, get up!”
As he helped him up, his voice grew a bit louder with urgency. “You’re being too formal! We’re family, no need for such politeness. I’ve never skimped on the share from the sea ventures—I’ve never just sat back and enjoyed the benefits without contributing!”
And that was true.
The Zhou family had gone out to sea.
They gave him his dividends—real money, year after year, handed straight to him.
He had never refused, nor had he ever been reserved about it. To him, family should be like that: you help me, I help you. Being too calculating only drives a wedge between people.
Zhou Dahe, now standing, looked at Pei Cijing’s anxious expression of “please don’t be like this, I really can’t accept it” and couldn’t help but shake his head with a smile. “You’re still as straightforward as ever.”
Pei Cijing chuckled softly.
He scratched his head.
His youthful nature showed through.
He looked a bit embarrassed, but in reality, he was quite uneasy inside. After all, it was because of him that the Zhou family’s ventures into the sea had begun, which had led Third Uncle into so much risk.
