Trafford's Trading Club

Chapter 825: Zhao

After all the procedures had been completed, Song Tianyou untied the apron around his waist. After instructing the fourth uncle in the kitchen on some matters, he washed his hands and walked out of the kitchen.

Outside the kitchen was a separate courtyard with a small vegetable field. When Song Tianyou came out, he found that Song Haoran had returned at some point. He was filling a bucket with water, irrigating the plants in the vegetable field. Song Tianyou smiled, hands behind his back, and quietly approached Song Haoran from behind. “You’re back.” “Yeah, just got back not long ago.” Song Haoran squatted down, reaching out to pick off the wilted leaves. “Our vegetable field doesn’t use any pesticides, so the vegetables are purely organic and healthy. However, there’s one downside: it’s easy to get these pests.” Song Tianyou glanced over and said nonchalantly, “It seems you have something to tell me?” Song Haoran shrugged, “No, just feeling a bit nostalgic all of a sudden.” Standing up, Song Haoran stretched and then turned around. He glanced into the kitchen and smiled, “It’s been years since you cooked personally; I guess your skills have gone rusty?” “You little brat,” Song Tianyou laughed and scolded. “When I came here, I went to Chinatown,” Song Haoran suddenly said. “Luo Qiu said he wanted to buy something before coming over.” “That’s thoughtful of him.” Song Tianyou paused when he heard this, then smiled, feeling happy to hear that a descendant of the Song family would do such a thing—though it was probably just a matter of courtesy. But as one gets older, it seems one tends to remember these things and cherish them. “He spent quite a bit,” Song Tianyou shook his head. Song Haoran unexpectedly said, “He only bought two pounds of apples.” Upon hearing this, Song Tianyou was taken aback for a moment and then burst into laughter. He looked at the vegetable field beside him, smiling in silence. At this time, Song Haoran continued, “The Gate of Life. ‘Life’ represents living. Living signifies hope. Therefore, the Gate of Life is the Gate of Hope, a door that brings hope.” He recited something he had heard, saying it word for word, almost mimicking the tone. Song Tianyou looked at him with a puzzled expression. He certainly knew what the Gate of Life meant, as it was a special door he had created. “That was what Luo Qiu said word for word,” Song Haoran shrugged. “I just happened to bring him over and mentioned the name of this Gate of Life. He said the above words.” Looking up at the clear sky and white clouds over the Cold Residence, Song Tianyou sighed after a long time and said softly, “This bowl of Buddha Jumps Over the Wall, he can handle it… Come, take me to meet him.” Suddenly, Song Tianyou became spirited, walking out of the village at a brisk pace, almost without any rest. In fact, to prepare the materials for the Buddha Jumps Over the Wall, he hadn’t had much rest since yesterday, as properly cooking the dried abalone took a long time, and Old Song had strictly insisted on doing everything himself. Song Haoran knew that his father was tired, but he also understood what was driving him. It was an obsession cultivated over decades. “Have you taken your medicine today?” Song Haoran gently asked. "Don’t worry, I still want to live a few more years." When Song Haoran accompanied Song Tianyou to the parlor where Luo Qiu was, he found Luo Qiu standing in front of a bookshelf, looking through something. Uncle Wu was a professional-level butler with good hearing. When Song Tianyou appeared, he was already moving, but Song Tianyou slightly shook his head, signaling Uncle Wu not to make a sound. He walked slowly to the bookshelf, looking at the neatly arranged books. One book was missing, the one in Luo Qiu's hands. "You like reading the 'Ming History'?" Song Tianyou suddenly said. "Not really," Luo Qiu closed the book and explained, "I just picked it up because it was a bit damaged, so I took an interest to see it." This was the first time Song Tianyou truly regarded Luo Qiu. He's in his sixties, but he stood very straight, giving a tough impression. Song Tianyou pondered, "Because it’s damaged?" Luo Qiu nodded. "If it’s not often read, it wouldn’t get damaged. If it’s often read, it indicates that someone likes it; it has value for frequent reading." Song Tianyou replied indifferently, "But it’s also possible that this is just an individual’s interest. Some people like sweet things, and others like salty ones, but that doesn’t mean it’s what you like yourself." Luo Qiu said, "But whether you like it or not, you have to try it yourself to know." Suddenly, Song Tianyou extended his hand, and Luo Qiu handed over the 'Ming History' to him. Song Tianyou casually flipped through the pages, and suddenly asked, "What about the Ming Dynasty?" Luo Qiu shook his head. "I only read, not comment." "An observer sees clearly?" Song Tianyou gazed at him. Luo Qiu replied lightly, "I can’t be part of the situation." Song Tianyou nodded. "That's true. Even the most completely preserved historical materials cannot fully present the true reality of a dynasty. What later generations write can get infinitely closer to the truth, but it is still not the truth. For example, the 'Along the River During the Qingming Festival' is just a snapshot of an era. Although it condenses an era, there are always some omissions." He handed the 'Ming History' back to Luo Qiu. "Since you like it, this 'Ming History' is a gift for you." Luo Qiu instead put the book back in its original position, softly saying, "If one book is missing, it’s not complete. It’s important to leave the opportunity for the next person to read it." Song Tianyou asked, "How old are you this year?" "I’ll be twenty-two after the Lunar New Year," Luo Qiu thought for a moment, "I was born in January." "Come, let me show you something," Song Tianyou nodded and turned to leave. Seeing this, Song Haoran quickly waved to Luo Qiu, signaling him to follow. Luo Qiu nodded, but before leaving, he casually covered the tea bowl with its lid. Uncle Wu, being observant, caught a glance at this but said nothing. However, such details can reveal a person’s character. He couldn't see any signs of pretense in this young man. But that’s what’s most terrifying. Because Uncle Wu did not know what kind of education it would take to raise such a well-rounded young man. Moreover, what was even more incredible was that it seemed anyone could feel a sense of closeness to him. "Incredible," Uncle Wu suddenly sighed beside Song Haoran. Song Haoran asked in surprise, "Uncle Wu, what’s incredible?" Uncle Wu joked, "If this guest were a woman, I could describe her as an orchid in an empty valley. But being a man, I really don’t know how to describe it." "Uncle Wu, I didn’t know you had such interests..." Song Haoran was taken aback, then sighed, "This is probably the reason you’ve been single for over forty years..." "Young master..." ___ Inside the Cold Residence, the specifications seemed to be much larger than they appeared from the outside. This was probably due to the designer’s grasp of spatial structure. The place Song Tianyou brought Luo Qiu to was almost at the deepest part of the Cold Residence, a locked room. In the old days, large households would set up a mourning hall, and the Cold Residence also had such a place. Song Tianyou pointed to a neatly arranged set of memorial tablets in the mourning hall and said to Luo Qiu, "Our Song family can trace its lineage back to the Northern Song Dynasty." "Zhao?" The boss looked at the high-hanging first memorial tablet, which bore the inscription "Zhao Gong Taizu Ruixian Gong," and was slightly taken aback. Seemingly aware of Luo Qiu’s confusion, Song Tianyou spoke seriously: "Ruixian Gong is a descendant of the second son of Emperor Taizu of Song, Prince Yan. This means that our Song family is actually a descendant of Emperor Taizu of Song. Later, after the dynasty changed, Ruixian Gong was concerned about the restoration of the Song Dynasty, but he could not withstand the changing times and ultimately became disheartened, dying in despair. His descendants gradually gave up on this thought and changed their surname. We adopted 'Song' as our surname, which was actually a way to leave a remnant of that thought. For thousands of years, the Song family has nearly faced extinction several times, but the fate was not yet exhausted, and now we have finally preserved a bit of our lineage. Since you are a descendant of my elder brother, you need to acknowledge your ancestry, so I need to tell you that we are actually part of the Zhao family." Luo Qiu nodded, feeling somewhat surprised by the origin of the Song family, but quickly returned to his previous calm demeanor. Song Tianyou kept observing Luo Qiu’s expression and finally nodded. "You are very composed, much better than I expected. Your uncle Song Haoran wasn’t as calm as you are when he heard this for the first time." "Father, it’s unfair to compare a ten-year-old to a twenty-two-year-old," Song Haoran chuckled lightly. Song Tianyou merely waved his hand, but he couldn’t hide the affection in his eyes—Song Haoran was his son born in old age and was also his only child, so he was naturally cherished greatly. "How did my grandfather get separated from you back then?" Luo Qiu asked at this time. Song Tianyou sat down, reminiscing. At this moment, Luo Qiu saw a certain maturity in Song Tianyou that comes with age. Older people all have this quality. "At that time, the era of war had just ended, and the new country was established, with many things in a state of disarray. But in reality, there were still many places in the country that had not been liberated," Song Tianyou said after a long silence. "In fact, if we hadn’t been invaded during the early Republic, my grandfather might have just been an honest schoolteacher. But life forced him, and without the strength to fight, a scholar put down his books and picked up a gun, managing to carve out a career." "There are many things I can’t remember clearly now because I was too young at that time," he continued after another long pause. "Initially, the Song family was just a small warlord in the region, carefully surviving in the cracks of various powers. We never thought about gaining anything; we just wanted to defend our homeland, which led us to take up arms. However, with the tide of the times rushing in, no one could stand apart." "Your grandfather was much older than me; he was like a father to me, and I spent my childhood following him. He taught me to recite the Three Character Classic, taught me to ride horses, read the Records of the Grand Historian, and would take me out to play secretly. We hunted together, watched Yue Opera together... Those were the most precious days of my life, carefree and worry-free." "Later, when the new nation began, the leadership of the Song family was passed to my father, your great-grandfather. Your great-grandfather had no intention of accepting any founding merits; he just wanted to take off his armor and return to the fields to live a quiet life. However, our Song family still ran into trouble." "At that time, the situation was still tense. Although the old forces had retreated overseas, many spies remained, sabotaging the hard-won peace... As a result, our Song family was framed." Song Tianyou fell silent for a moment. "The truth of this matter still doesn’t have an accurate conclusion. The situation was chaotic; the establishment of the new nation meant that many things were overthrown and new ones had to emerge. I never doubt the spirit of those who liberated the country with their blood. But you must also understand that we all came from different backgrounds, and our thoughts were not necessarily the same. My father was unwilling to align with certain people, and the consequences were predictable." "It was the middle of winter when the news of the liberation of Yunnan, Guizhou, and Sichuan finally arrived..." Song Tianyou’s expression grew somewhat sad. "I remember that night, many people suddenly came to our home. They all wore black hats and long black Chinese gowns. Without speaking, they did not say a single word from beginning to end. I heard gunshots, and shortly after, I saw my brother bursting into my room, covered in blood, picking me up." "We kept fleeing, always fleeing, while the people behind us chased closely." Song Tianyou closed his eyes. "That was the first time I saw so many dead bodies and so much blood. I didn’t know what war was like, but I saw what death looked like." He looked at Luo Qiu. "Your grandfather bound me to him with a strap, protecting me. I saw him get shot in the shoulder, blood flowing continuously. It ran down onto my face... There was no other way; he chose to take a few people to divert the black-clad men, allowing a few servants to protect me as we escaped. We agreed on a place to meet again, and he told me not to lose sight of each other." Luo Qiu let out a breath. "You didn’t see him again." "I waited a long, long time." The old man took a deep breath. "Later, under the protection of the servants, I eventually reached Hong Kong, then continued south, crossing the ocean to Indonesia, where I grew up... After some years, I tracked down some of the truths from back then, but secretly, a mysterious force also came after me. I had no choice but to leave once again." The old man sighed. "That time, I went even further away, and then came to this place, where I met a girl. She was a descendant of those sold here as laborers, and we fell in love. I took root here." Song Tianyou looked at Luo Qiu, and his heavy heart seemed to lighten somewhat. "Over the years, I earned some money and gained a bit of power for myself. I went back secretly several times, but I could never find any news about my brother. I originally thought I would never hear about him again in this life." Suddenly, he grasped Luo Qiu's hand, his movement quick and powerful, like a tiger released from its cage, catching Luo Qiu off guard. The old man's grip on Luo Qiu's hand grew stronger, as if afraid that if he let go, he would never see him again in this life. "Today, I found you!" Perhaps, many years ago, the old man’s brother had also held his hand tightly like this. After days of rushing around, utterly exhausted, the old man neglected the composure he had maintained for decades, letting two lines of tears flow down his face, crying like an honest, simple old man.