Chapter 857: Now It's My Turn to Talk
The entire Wenshui City was stunned by these words.
Silence fell outside the ancestral hall, as still as a grave.
After a moment, someone finally came to their senses.
Madam Tang concealed the flicker of fear in her eyes, strode quickly to his side, and raised her hand to strike him.
A sharp slap might make the old master less furious when he heard about this?
Thinking this, Madam Tang gritted her teeth and swung her hand down, unwilling to soften from regret and thus reveal any issues, putting great force into the blow.
Tang Thirty-Six smiled at her, not dodging.
With a crack, Madam Tang's palm landed on Tang Thirty-Six's face, producing a crisp sound.
Tang Thirty-Six's left cheek reddened visibly, though because he hadn't washed his face in many days and it was covered in grime, it wasn't too conspicuous.
Yet his face still bore a smile—a sincere one, without any strain, and certainly without any emotion.
Madam Tang froze, then scolded with regret, "Why didn't you dodge?"
"Your son has been unfilial, making you worry these past six months, and I failed to attend to Father at his bedside. I deserve the beating."
Tang Thirty-Six stepped forward and embraced his mother, whispering, "Go home and wait for me. I still have some things to do."
Having finally seen him after half a year, Madam Tang was reluctant to let go, but she knew the Pope was in the old mansion now, and whatever her son had to do must be important—she couldn't stop him.
"At least come home first to wash up and eat something. I've already had the small kitchen prepare your favorite egg rice."
Madam Tang looked at his noticeably thinner face, her voice full of concern.
"No one dared to short my food and drink in the ancestral hall these six months. Even if I'm craving it, I'm used to the kitchen at the old mansion."
Tang Thirty-Six looked into his mother's eyes and smiled. "Once I finish that matter completely, everyone will be more at ease."
With that, he turned his gaze to the crowd on the street.
The stewards and managers of the main branch, along with dozens of servants, were beaming with joy.
As for the maids and nannies who had served him for years, they were already in tears.
"What are you crying for? Do you really think you're made of water?"
He looked at the maids and said, "Hurry up and arrange for your young master to wash up."
Hearing this, the stewards and managers couldn't help but recall scenes often seen in Wenshui City many years ago.
They wondered—could that scene be repeating itself today? Their expressions turned extremely complicated.
The maids chorused their assent, and servants accustomed to such tasks promptly unloaded over a dozen rolls of expensive multicolored silk from the carriage, along with various wooden poles. In no time, they had set up a space several zhang square in front of the ancestral hall, partitioned off with curtains.
The capable servants unceremoniously knocked on—or rather, broke into—a nearby shop, expertly retrieving all the hot water prepared in the shop's backyard workshop. The maids, meanwhile, had already taken wooden buckets and various washing supplies from their own carriage and hurried into the curtained area.
Tang Thirty-Six had already entered the curtains and stripped completely naked.
Steam rose, revealing a faint silhouette, and the sound of water was crystal clear.
The young women in the city blushed and turned away, but couldn't resist sneaking glances back.
Madam Tang sighed helplessly, but her face was full of relief.
The stewards, managers, and onlookers were first struck speechless with shock, then burst into laughter.
Such a scene in Wenshui City—it had truly been years since they'd seen it.
Before long, the curtains were removed.
The young man who had been disheveled, gaunt, and haggard was now transformed into an elegant noble.
The eyes of the city's young women grew incredibly bright.
A maid stepped forward, holding a sword in both hands, and carefully fastened it at his waist.
The sword looked somewhat ancient, but when worn by him, it seemed as if it had just been washed in water, its edge sharp and imposing.
It was the Wenshui Sword.
...
...
Tang Thirty-Six, wearing Cloud-Stepping Boots and with the Wenshui Sword at his waist, left the ancestral hall and arrived at the old mansion.
The crowd stopped far down the street; no one dared to follow.
He didn't even glance at the plaques left by past emperors and popes above the gate, nor did he acknowledge the steward, whose demeanor was utterly humble.
He pushed open the door of the old mansion and walked in, as naturally as if he were coming home.
In fact, this should have been considered his home.
He had lived here for many years; in all of Wenshui City, no one knew it better than him, except for the old master.
Entering the small courtyard of the old mansion, he began greeting people, like a host.
He patted Linghai Zhiwang on the shoulder and said, "You're here."
He turned to Archbishop Anlin and said, "Are you settling in well?"
He paused when he saw Nanke, then turned to the old mansion's steward and said, "Hurry up and brew the old master's best tea leaves—what are you standing there for? Do you know who this is? Even though I've never met her, I recognized her from her striking features. Do you want to die?"
When he saw Zhexiu, he nodded but said nothing.
Finally, he saw Guan Feibai, and his brows shot up like swords. "Why are you here, too?"
Chen Changsheng, worried that Chu Su would ambush Guan Feibai, had kept him at the Dao Hall yesterday. Now that Chu Su had been expelled from Wenshui City, and Guan Feibai knew Tang Thirty-Six might be released, he had come to the old mansion to wait. He hadn't expected that, years later, this guy would still be as annoying as ever.
"Can't I come?" Guan Feibai's brows also shot up like swords.
Just when he thought Tang Thirty-Six would continue their old sparring, Tang Thirty-Six laughed and said, "A guest from afar is always welcome. I'm delighted."
Then he shifted the topic, dropped his smile, pulled Zhexiu to his side, and said, "When we visit Li Mountain in the future, you'll have to welcome us too."
Guan Feibai shook his head, thinking he had been worried that this guy might come out broken—clearly, that was unnecessary.
...
...
The thick cloth curtain fell, sealing off the small room. All sights and the snow on the well's rim were shut outside.
The tiles on the card table were scattered—some standing, some fallen, some face-up, some hidden—vaguely still the remnants of yesterday's game.
Chen Changsheng sat opposite Old Master Tang, the card table between them.
Tang Thirty-Six walked to the table, looked at Chen Changsheng, and asked, "Have you finished your talk?"
Chen Changsheng nodded.
Tang Thirty-Six said irritably, "Then hurry up and give me your seat."
"These are your family's chairs. Can I stop you from sitting?"
Chen Changsheng rose reluctantly and sat in a nearby chair.
Tang Thirty-Six took his original seat.
The one directly across from Old Master Tang.
That seat, of course, carried meaning.
The fact that he had driven Chen Changsheng away as soon as he entered and insisted on sitting there was deeply significant.
"Now it's my turn to talk."
Tang Thirty-Six looked at Old Master Tang as he spoke.
When he said this, the emotions in his eyes were complex.
There was filial affection, sadness and sorrow, worry and reluctance, disgust and loneliness.
By the time he finished speaking, those complicated, indescribable feelings had vanished entirely, leaving only a cold indifference.