A Prophet - Chapter 20 (Part 4)

Chapter 4 - Huang Farong Opens a Fortune-Telling Parlor in Nanyang

Ancestor was completely dazed by the turn of events, feeling as though the heavens were collapsing around him: "Sister Yan, what is going on?"

Jiang Feiyan took another deep breath and then shouted toward the loft: "Come on out!"

Following the sound, Ancestor looked up as a figure emerged from the loft. In the dim light, that silhouette grew increasingly familiar. It was her? It was her! A sharp ache pierced Ancestor's heart, and his eyes instantly grew moist.

The person walked over, slowly knelt down before Ancestor, and softly called out: "Ancestor."

For four years, Ancestor had not once heard this voice; for four years, Ancestor had not once laid eyes on this silhouette. Countless times he had thought of her and missed her, believing it impossible that they would ever meet again in this lifetime. Yet now, she had appeared.

"Ancestor," she cried out again through her tears.

"Farong." Tears were already streaming down Ancestor's face.

Ancestor could no longer harbor any hatred toward Huang Farong; what remained was only a deep sense of guilt. He didn't even know what he felt guilty for—was it the guilt of how this sinful "River and Lake Sect" corrupted good people into wicked ones, or the guilt of how the chaotic twists of fate left two people separated by a mere breath yet worlds apart? Ancestor could not put it into words, nor did he know. At that moment, Ancestor's mind was in utter turmoil. Years of past memories surged into his mind all at once: going to Southern Guangdong to propose marriage, feigning madness to pull off a scheme that shattered the little Japanese general, the drinking contest where he caught the internal spy without getting drunk, crying bitterly in front of the gardenias after getting drunk, surviving death by a hair's breadth on the Zhoushan Archipelago... Every single scene of the past intertwined with this young woman before Ancestor's eyes.

Ancestor stood up, personally helped Huang Farong to her feet, and carefully examined the young woman he hadn't seen in four years.

Huang Farong gazed at Ancestor with tear-filled eyes and slowly leaned into his embrace. Ancestor did not pull away; instead, he held Huang Farong tightly, much like a wandering prodigal returning home to parents who hold their children close.

At that moment, Huang Farong wept to her heart's content, while Jiang Feiyan, standing off to the side, also shed silent tears.

"Ancestor, you've lost weight," Huang Farong said, gently patting Ancestor's back. Over all these years, her yearning for Ancestor had not diminished in the slightest.

After a long while, Jiang Feiyan wiped away her tears and said, "Stop crying, both of you. Child, tell Ancestor what has happened to you over all these years."

Huang Farong wiped away her tears as well, personally poured a cup of water for Ancestor, and then began her sorrowful, flowing recollection.

After Huang Farong arrived in Nanyang, she initially worried she wouldn't adapt to the local climate and conditions, but she soon discovered that everyone there was ethnically Chinese—immigrants who had crossed over across successive dynasties. When people met, they all spoke Chinese, and Huang Farong realized life wasn't quite as difficult as she had feared.

Deep in the bones of those Chinese trying to make a living in Nanyang still flowed the blood of Yan and Huang. Wherever there were Chinese people, there was Chinese culture; and wherever there was Chinese culture, there were the Eight Trigrams of Yin and Yang, fortune-telling, and drawing divination lots.

Huang Farong's education and learning found their use there. In the trade of fortune-telling, "accuracy" was the ultimate truth. Huang Farong made full use of her "Yingyao" talent, combining cold-reading techniques with precise deductions so that every single hexagram she cast was remarkably accurate. Just like that, through word of mouth, spreading from ten people to a hundred, Huang Farong's fortune-telling parlor became a booming success.

Later on, a boss who dealt in purple clay pottery had his business skyrocket purely by chance after Huang Farong adjusted his Feng Shui. Smitten with this handsome "divine maiden," he continually entrusted matchmakers to propose marriage, but Huang Farong rejected every single one. Eventually, the boss came to propose in person, and only then did Huang Farong discover that this businessman also hailed from Shandong. As they talked, the conversation naturally drifted toward the agony of homesickness, touching upon the red sorghum, white sweet potatoes, and earthen stoves of their hometown. The more they talked, the closer they felt; two displaced souls cast far from home had found a common language in a foreign land.

Huang Farong knew all too well that she could never return to the "River and Lake Sect." In time, she also gradually came to realize that her adoptive mother seemed quite fond of Ancestor—this was a tangled, ill-fated knot between three people, and she could no longer stand in the middle to disrupt it. Moreover, she had even less face to ever see Zhang Zizhan again. Thus, amidst a lingering sorrow that slowly faded with the distance, Huang Farong's resolve wavered. When the young businessman proposed yet again one day, Huang Farong hardened her heart and married him!

Just like that, Huang Farong washed away her past. No longer did anyone know she had once been an attendant of the "River and Lake Sect"; no longer did anyone know of her past infatuation and cruelty; no longer did anyone know she was a woman remarrying. She had stepped onto the righteous path.

Following that, her husband's business grew larger and larger. When the War of Resistance broke out, ethnic Chinese across the globe donated money, goods, and airplanes. Huang Farong and her husband also contributed a massive fortune, to the point where Huang Farong had become a multi-millionaire patriotic overseas Chinese. In 1938, when Chiang Kai-shek received delegations of patriotic overseas Chinese from Southeast Asia, Huang Farong even shook hands with Soong Mei-ling, who was part of the entourage.

By that time, she was no longer "Huang Farong," having given herself a new name—"Huang Liaoliao." Liaoliao—to finish desires and settle them, yet remaining unsettled even when settled. What was she trying to resolve? What could she possibly settle? She did not know; in any case, she simply wanted to sever everything from her past. From then on, whether business partners or Kuomintang political aides, everyone respectfully addressed her as "Madam Liaoliao."

Meanwhile, Huang Farong's husband, Hu Wanxiong, had also become the vice chairman of the Nanyang Chinese General Chamber of Commerce, actively calling upon global Chinese to unite in resisting Japan. After Japan launched its full-scale invasion of China, in order to realize its plot to completely cut off China's foreign aid, it began planning military operations to occupy Nanyang. After obtaining intelligence regarding this scheme, American and British intelligence agencies notified Chiang Kai-shek, who then arranged for Mao Renfeng, the second-in-command of Military Statistics, to instruct patriotic overseas Chinese in Nanyang to lie low and avoid the spotlight to prevent being decapitated by the Japanese.

Upon receiving the classified orders, Hu Wanxiong and other Chinese merchant leaders fled pell-mell to the United States, and Huang Farong accompanied them.

Upon setting foot on the vast and peaceful soil of America, Huang Farong was deeply shocked: beneath the very same blue sky, the other end of the earth was engulfed in the flames of war while common people were displaced, yet here there were singing birds, fragrant flowers, blue skies, white clouds, clean asphalt roads, quiet coffee shops, and solemn, magnificent churches. Every single person's face beamed with smiles, and the entire society operated in orderly precision. At that moment, Huang Farong wept. She thought of her barren Shandong hometown, of her parents whom she hadn't seen in over a dozen years, of her adoptive mother Jiang Feiyan, and even more so of Ancestor, who was still running about risking his life, as well as her former husband Zhang Zizhan...

This is not my hometown! This is not my land! This is not my life! My elders and fellow villagers are still groaning beneath the iron hooves of the Japanese! "I want to go back! I want to go back!" Huang Farong suddenly broke down and cried uncontrollably.

"Liaoliao! Liaoliao! What's wrong with you?" Hu Wanxiong asked in alarm.

"I want to go back." Huang Farong regained her composure.

"Why? Going back is far too dangerous!" Hu Wanxiong asked, completely baffled.

"Husband..." Huang Farong threw herself into Hu Wanxiong's arms, crying as she said, "I miss home."

"Once the war ends, we'll head right back!" Hu Wanxiong comforted her.

"By the time the war ends, will our family even still be around?" Huang Farong retorted.

"This..."

"Then... I'll accompany you back!" Hu Wanxiong said.

"No! Husband, you are already on the Japanese assassination blacklist; going back makes you far too easy to expose. It's relatively safer for me to go back alone." Huang Farong said.

"But... but it's too dangerous right now. Multiple regions inland have fallen, and fighting is happening everywhere. If you go back alone and the Japanese happen to capture you..." Hu Wanxiong worried aloud.

"Husband, you only need to get me a German expatriate certificate." Huang Farong was exceptionally clever; during World War II, Japan, Germany, and Italy had formed the Axis alliance, and the Japanese did not kill Germans.

Hu Wanxiong pondered this for a moment and nodded: "Madam must take good care of herself and return swiftly after visiting her family! I will be waiting for you!"

A month later, Huang Farong traveled via Hong Kong back to Southern Guangdong, only to discover upon arrival that the stronghold had vanished. With no other choice, she doubled back to Nanyang to reconnect with the contact who had received her when she first fled as a refugee. That contact produced a letter and said, "This is what Yan Niang wrote for you. After you left without a trace, I had no way of contacting you."

After reading the letter, Huang Farong learned that the "Crossing Begonia" branch had relocated to Guangxi, so she hurried off to Guangxi without delay.

That was on an afternoon when Jiang Feiyan was mimicking Qiao Wumei by performing rituals to pray for local rain. Shortly after returning to the stronghold following the conclusion of the ritual, a bound-foot maid ran inside: "Great Master Dad, the foreign sister has arrived!"

"Farong?" Jiang Feiyan was startled.

Before the words had even faded, Huang Farong had already walked in: "Adoptive Mother!" The two of them embraced tightly, weeping uncontrollably.

As it turned out, the very next day, Ancestor arrived.

When Ancestor knocked on the door, the bound-foot maid of the "Crossing Begonia" branch was startled to see it was him and hurried inside to report. Upon hearing the news, Jiang Feiyan broke out in a cold sweat and told Huang Farong to hide for a moment. But Huang Farong stubbornly refused to hide, crying as she said, "I must see him—even if it kills me, I will see him!"

Seeing that Huang Farong's mind was made up, Jiang Feiyan instructed the maid to first send Ancestor away, then pondered the matter carefully before having the maid invite Ancestor back that evening, instructing her specifically: allow only Ancestor to come alone. She feared that if news leaked and the Fourth Leader Zhang Zizhan found out, it would spell massive trouble!

After listening to Huang Farong's account, Ancestor was filled with profound melancholy. He wanted to speak, yet didn't know what to say. The night was deeply set, the moon quietly slid across the treetops, and the oil lamp cast a dim, yellowish glow. The three of them sat in silence, keeping completely still.

"Ancestor," Huang Farong finally spoke after a long silence, "let me come back."

Ancestor shook his head: "You have already washed your hands of the past and started fresh. This is your blessing."

"Ancestor..." Huang Farong wanted to say more.

"Not only must you never return to the 'River and Lake Sect,' but you must also stop dabbling in fortune-telling and drawing lots. After so many years and so many events, do you still not understand? Walking the righteous path and doing honest work is the foundation of being human, and it lets you sleep with an easy conscience. Money earned through scheming against others, setting up traps, and risking your life nine times out of ten brings no peace when you spend it. Human calculations can never match the calculations of heaven; what is yours will eventually be yours, and what is not yours will sooner or later have to be spit back out. Cause and effect hound a person like a shadow following a form. Since you have married that overseas Chinese businessman, focus on being a good wife and raising your children properly. Not a single fortune-teller ever meets a good end—when you guess correctly, you are leaking the secrets of heaven; when you guess incorrectly, you are misleading the youth. Everything you do is wrong, so why torture yourself?" Ancestor said.

Huang Farong nodded heavily, then asked with a dazed expression: "Does that mean all the fortune-tellers in this world have taken the wrong path?"

Ancestor nodded: "Whether true fortune-tellers or fake fortune-tellers, their objective is identical—it's all for money, all driven by greed. The distinction between true and false is nothing more than the fifty-step laughing at the hundred-step. Stop believing that ghost talk about helping people court good fortune and avoid disaster. When a fortune-teller uses honeyed words and speaks with eloquence, what they are thinking about is nothing more than the money inside the customer's pockets. The only difference lies in the skill of their performance: the ones who hide it well and maintain an unruffled front in the face of money are the grandmasters; the ones who hide it poorly and whose eyes light up like gold at the sight of wealth are mere swindlers. But once you strip away the grandmaster's painted skin, you'll discover he is far more greedy and cunning than any swindler! Spoken in Buddhist terms, fortune-tellers are all bound to fall into the hell realms after death!" Ancestor recalled the words that True Man Peng had once spoken.

Huang Farong and Jiang Feiyan were dumbfounded by Ancestor's words, yet when they thought about it carefully, it was precisely the truth. Later on, after returning to the United States, Huang Farong officially converted to Buddhism in 1978. At the City of Ten Thousand Buddhas—a sacred site of Buddhism in America—she met the eminent monk Venerable Hsuan Hua, who hailed from Northeast China, and he uttered remarkably similar words: "Those who dabble in fortune-telling will fall into the animal realm in their next lives."

"Then when will Ancestor extricate himself? What about Adoptive Mother?" Huang Farong asked, looking between Ancestor and Jiang Feiyan.

Ancestor gazed at Jiang Feiyan, then blankly stared out the window. The rolling, undulating mountain ridges in the darkness mirrored Ancestor's own turbulent and unsettled heart at that moment; he did not know how to reply. "Sigh..." Ancestor let out a long sigh.

"Why don't Adoptive Mother, Ancestor, and I all leave together? Once we get over there, I'll just tell everyone that you are my... my... my aunt and uncle..." Hearing her own words, Huang Farong's tears began to fall once more.

Jiang Feiyan was genuinely moved. She was exhausted, and there was nowhere left for her to run. From Guangdong to Guangxi, from the First Leader to the sect leader, from within the bureau to outside of it, she was truly, deeply tired.

"Ancestor..." Jiang Feiyan called out softly.

Ancestor turned his head back to gaze at Jiang Feiyan. At that moment, he wavered. For the very first time without a single shred of doubt, he realized that his decision to join the "River and Lake Sect" had genuinely been a mistake!

Upholding justice on behalf of heaven, robbing the rich to aid the poor—easy to say, exceptionally difficult to do! Every human possesses selfish desires, and with selfish desires come selfish thoughts. Many matters spiral entirely beyond one's control. Over all these years, fighting gangs, fighting secret sects, fighting the Japanese, fighting Military Statistics—families shattered, bones left unburied, himself displaced, and his brothers driven away from their native homes. When would it ever end? For all these years, he hadn't slept a single peaceful night, constantly fearing either that a scheme would fail and expose them, or that someone would assassinate him for his head. Rack your brains to the bone, risking life and death nine times out of ten!

Ancestor was tired too.

Time was when Ancestor also longed to return to the past, to return to those carefree days. He missed that unblemished version of himself so dearly. He could discard the red-hot authority, he could discard the prestige of having a thousand respond to a single call—all he wanted was safety, reunion, marrying a wife, having children, and living in peaceful stability.

Suddenly, the figures of the section leaders began flickering before his eyes, followed by the figures of the bound-foot maids. Ancestor snapped back to reality in an instant: "It's not that I don't want to leave. Once I'm gone, what will happen to the brothers?"

Huang Farong said, "Ancestor, let each person follow their own destined fate. Everyone has their own way of living; in truth, no one can save anyone else, and no one can control anyone else... Everyone will walk through their entire life following the track of their own destiny. As long as Ancestor walks his own path well, he will have lived up to the nurturing grace of his parents..."

Ancestor nodded, then changed his tune: "Though those words ring true, whoever sows the seeds must bear the consequences. I have taken charge of the 'Muzi Lotus' branch for nearly twenty years now. Every single decision over all these years has been plotted by me; the life and death, the gathering and scattering of the branch were all brought about by my own hand. Since this cause has been sown, this fruit is mine to bear..."

Jiang Feiyan let out a sigh: "When will the grudges of the underworld ever end? The deeper one sinks..."

"At the very least, I must witness the day of the Japanese invaders' destruction..." Ancestor said. "The devils have slaughtered so many of our people. In the rise and fall of the realm, every ordinary citizen bears a responsibility. If there truly is cause and effect in this human world, I believe the devils will undoubtedly reap what they sow!"

"Ancestor..." Huang Farong still wanted to persuade him.

"Farong, you possess the intellect to achieve greatness and the unyielding resilience of character to endure anything. I believe nothing can ever defeat you. Whether in China or abroad, making a living will not be a problem. The only thing Ancestor worries about is your scheming nature—your schemes run far too deep. You must remember the old saying: Too much cleverness in calculating everything ends up destroying one's own life and family! Just like the two polar forces of Yin and Yang, when Yin reaches its extreme, Yang is born; when Yang reaches its extreme, Yin is born. To be clever to the absolute limit is to commit a grave blunder. Do you understand what I'm saying?" At the end, Ancestor's tone grew heavier.

Knowing that Ancestor was thinking of Pei Jinglong once more, Huang Farong hurriedly lowered her head and repeatedly replied: "I understand! I understand!"

"I only hope you return safely to the United States, live a good life with your husband, and stop plotting against those closest to you. Otherwise, retribution will follow."

"But... I will miss Ancestor and Adoptive Mother." Huang Farong said softly.

"Those bound by fate will naturally meet again! If we are in your heart, even the ends of the earth are close at hand; if we are not, the closest proximity is the ends of the earth. Do you understand?" Ancestor said.

"I understand." Huang Farong's tears began to flow again.

"Remember, once you return, lobby those American politicians alongside your husband to send aid to China. Exert every ounce of strength you can muster. Be benevolent to others over there, do many good deeds, and use the rest of your life to redeem yourself for the murder of Pei Jinglong!"

"Yes, Ancestor!" Huang Farong answered.

"Ancestor... I..." Huang Farong hesitated, then said, "I still want to..."

"Want to what?"

"I want to... take one last look at Zizhan."

Ancestor pondered for a moment, then nodded: "Very well. Tomorrow I will invite him to talk in the forest. You can hide off to the side, but under no circumstances must you make a sound, otherwise..."

"I understand!"

Around the midnight hour, Ancestor returned. Jiang Feiyan pulled Huang Farong into her arms, and the two of them lost themselves in the dark of night, remaining entirely silent.

The next afternoon, Ancestor summoned the Fourth Leader, Zhang Zizhan.

"Zizhan, accompany me for a walk outside."

"Yes, Ancestor."

Looking back at the situation, Ancestor felt that the brother he had wronged the most was none other than Zhang Zizhan. Back then, he had brought him under his command from Shanghai at all costs, sacrificing his father in the process, and then used psychological tactics to make him completely submit to himself. Later on, feeling a sense of remorse, he arranged a marriage for him, never expecting that very marriage would ruin Zhang Zizhan's life.

A perfectly fine man was now half-demented. The handsome, dashing young scholar of the past whose writing flowed like divine inspiration was gone, replaced by an unkempt, slovenly sufferer of lovesickness. All of this had been brought about by Ancestor's own hands.

The section leaders also occasionally whispered to Ancestor: Fourth Brother has been moody and absent-minded lately; leaving him in charge of the props for setting up schemes might lead to mistakes, and once a major matter is botched, everyone could be implicated. The subtext was clear: he was no longer suited to serve as a section leader.

Ancestor was intimately familiar with every single section leader under his command. He knew each man's temper, his virtues and vices, and his flaws like the back of his hand, and he could summarize each person with a single character.

The First Leader was fierce—any gang, Japanese devils, Military Statistics agents, or stray beasts would simply be hacked down with a single blade. As for his own life, he never once factored it in; this was both his admirable trait and his tragic flaw. The body, hair, and skin are received from one's parents—mother and father brought a son into the world not for him to throw his life away carelessly. If his parents had any spirit left down in the netherworld, they would die with their eyes wide open.

The Second Leader was bold—he was born not knowing what fear meant, and wild ghosts or vengeful foxes could never frighten him. In his eyes, humans were merely walking frameworks of bones and flesh, and once dead, they became rotting meat. What could they possibly do to him? Yet he was ignorant of the Buddhist six realms of existence; even a dying fox turns its head toward its native hill, so how could a dead human lack a soul? Digging up graves and desecrating corpses invited heaven's wrath and earth's destruction. Ancestor knew that the Second Leader's eventual end would likely be extremely tragic, but upon second thought, wasn't he himself heading toward the exact same fate?

The Third Leader was clever—he was exceptionally smart and had managed quite well when wandering the underworld alone. He read extensively, versed in all the Hundred Schools of Thought and knowledgeable about all walks of life, and was especially adept at second-guessing Ancestor's thoughts. However, cleverness did not equal true wisdom; he and Huang Farong had fallen into the exact same trap: being far too clever, only to have that cleverness backfire on them.

The Fourth Leader was genuine—this child harbored no wicked thoughts in his heart, was utterly sincere, and came from a good family background. But excessive kindness also amounted to foolishness, known as foolish benevolence; after all, not everyone in this world is kind. If you blindly bestow kindness without paying attention to the methods, others will simply treat you as a fool to be played with, and in the end, rather than doing a good deed, you merely facilitate evil. The Fourth Leader was the least suited person to be an operative, yet Ancestor had roped him in due to his specialized skills—especially after he suffered such a devastating blow and fell into a dazed state, leaving Ancestor feeling all the more guilty toward him.

The Fifth Leader was crafty—he possessed an excellent memory, excelled at reading facial expressions, and never talked back to Ancestor or the other section leaders. Having correctly deduced that the Third Leader was the smartest of them all, he had stuck closely to the Third Leader's coattails, though he clung a bit too tightly, arousing Ancestor's vigilance.

The Sixth Leader was loyal—this likely stemmed from his background in the "Axe Gang," having been exposed since childhood to people and deeds defined by utter devotion and righteousness. The men under Wang Yaqiao were the sort who cared not to be born on the same year, month, and day, but sought to die on the same year, month, and day. After following Ancestor, he gradually transitioned into Ancestor's personal bodyguard.

Now that everyone held lingering reservations about the Fourth Leader, Ancestor could hear the unspoken subtext, yet he hesitated.

If he stripped the Fourth Leader of his post at this juncture, the man would truly go insane. This wasn't merely a question of a title; it was a matter of life and death. Ancestor was pondering how to save the Fourth Leader—or rather, how to atone for his own sins. At that moment, Ancestor hated himself, hating how he had ruined a man's entire life for the sake of his own selfish motives.

Ancestor and the Fourth Leader walked side by side: "Zizhan, has your health improved at all lately?" Ever since Zhang Zizhan lost Huang Farong, he had suffered from chronic insomnia. Ancestor had personally prescribed and gathered traditional Chinese medicine for him, hoping he would recover soon.

"Much better," Zhang Zizhan replied.

"Much better means not fully recovered. Zizhan, you yourself understand traditional Chinese medicine; massage your own acupoints in your spare time to ease the tension..."

"Yeah... if only Farong were still here... Back then, she always massaged my acupoints before sleep..."

Hiding in the thicket, Huang Farong heard these words and felt tears surge forth, quickly clamping a hand over her mouth. Jiang Feiyan, standing beside her, shook her head continuously with a sigh.

"Zizhan, what is love? A great scholar like you well-versed in both Chinese and Western learning, explain it to your Ancestor." Ancestor abruptly changed the subject.

Zhang Zizhan pondered for a moment before saying, "Love is the courage to sacrifice one's life for the person one loves."

"Who said that?" Ancestor asked.

"Plato."

"What kind of tu?" Ancestor asked, baffled.

"Oh... heh," Zhang Zizhan said with a faint smile. "Plato was an ancient Greek philosopher who passed away over two thousand years ago. If Farong were still here, I'd be willing to die for her once."

Huang Farong secretly watched the emaciated, haggard Zhang Zizhan and listened to his words, nearly crying out loud. Jiang Feiyan hurriedly yanked the corner of her sleeve. In that instant, Huang Farong finally realized how deeply she had wronged Zhang Zizhan—she was a married woman yet secretly harbored feelings for Ancestor, comparing her own husband unfavorably to Ancestor. When they were setting up the scheme on Zhoushan, her first thought hadn't been her husband's safety, but Ancestor's safety. Although Zizhan had a difficult temper, he had loved her wholeheartedly with unwavering devotion. "I truly am not human!" Huang Farong felt a crushing wave of guilt.

"Zizhan, what Plato said is correct as well. However, Ancestor has another perspective—see if it makes sense to you." Ancestor knew Huang Farong was listening.

"Please enlighten us, Ancestor."

"Dying for love is the primary realm; living for love is an even loftier realm. If you truly love someone, regardless of whether you can be together, as long as she is happy, that is enough. Your love was meant to bring her happiness, and since she has already found happiness, what regrets are left? Whether in the heavens or beneath the earth, in life or in death—let us hypothetically assume Farong has passed away. If she has a spirit in heaven and sees you in this state, she would not be happy either. Only when you live your life well will she find peace of mind." Ancestor finished speaking and looked at Zhang Zizhan.

Zhang Zizhan suddenly halted in his tracks, squatted down, and sobbed bitterly. "But I didn't give Farong happiness! I miss the days we spent together so desperately, and I regret not treating her properly. Now... now I no longer have the chance." With that, he burst into uncontrolled weeping.

In the bushes, Huang Farong was on the verge of stepping out, but Jiang Feiyan held her back with a death grip.

Ancestor also stopped walking and said, "Zizhan, let me tell you a true story. When I was a child, my neighbor was deeply in love with his wife, but she felt unhappy because they had no shared language and mismatched personalities. The wife wanted to run away, so he locked her up with chains, respectfully delivering food and water every single day. Later on, the woman bit her tongue and committed suicide. Only at that exact moment did my neighbor understand that loving someone doesn't mean forcibly possessing them—that's not love, that's selfishness! When burning paper money at her grave site, the neighbor said a single sentence: 'If you were still alive, I would surely let you go; as long as I knew you were still in this world, I would be happy.' Later on, that man became a Buddhist monk."

Zhang Zizhan wiped away a tear and said, "But right now I don't even know whether Farong is alive or dead. Even if she died, at least I could go to her grave and have a good, hearty cry!"

Ancestor's words had reached their end. He had spent the entire night pondering them—not only to impart them to Zhang Zizhan, but even more so to let Huang Farong hear them. Ancestor needed to awaken Huang Farong completely and fill her with thorough remorse so that she would harbor no lingering romantic attachments toward him. He wanted to make her turn around without looking back and live out the life she already had!

Afterward, Huang Farong handed all the money she had on her over to Ancestor. "Ancestor, this money is clean. Please give it to Zizhan." As she spoke, she unclasped a jade bracelet from her wrist: "And take this bracelet as well. I bought it with savings I earned myself while making a living in Nanyang—give it to him too."

With that, she suddenly dropped to her knees before Ancestor: "Ancestor, Zizhan was brought into the 'River and Lake Sect' by your own hand. Farong dares to brazenly beg Ancestor for one favor: save him. You cannot let him sink down into despair like this. Just now in the forest, you said that loving someone means making them happy. If Zizhan continues like this, I won't find peace over there either!"

Ancestor helped her up: "Rest assured, I will do everything in my power."

"Also, if... if one day the war ends, I hope... I hope Ancestor grants Zizhan a way out. He... he is not suited for the 'River and Lake Sect'..."

Ancestor nodded heavily.

That night, it was time for Huang Farong to depart. After crying her eyes out in Jiang Feiyan's embrace, she hugged Ancestor once more: "Adoptive Mother, Ancestor, Farong is leaving!"

Watching Huang Farong's gradually disappearing silhouette, Ancestor and Jiang Feiyan were overwhelmed with a myriad of emotions. The pitch-black night and their pitch-black moods mirrored this pitch-black life—devoid of destination, with no end in sight.

A malady of the heart requires a heart remedy; to untie a knot, one must turn to the person who tied it. After deep consideration, Ancestor concluded that saving Zhang Zizhan still required starting from a woman.

"Sister Yan, Farong has left, and Zizhan remains in a daze. If we want to save him, we still need to..."

Before Ancestor could even finish, Jiang Feiyan interrupted: "Ancestor, ever since the incident with Farong and Zizhan, I established a strict sect rule for the branch: 'Female attendants shall never marry.' We can never let such a thing happen again—it cuts too deep!"

Ancestor had hit a brick wall; that path was effectively blocked off. Yet the only thing capable of awakening a man's primal nature remained a woman—especially a hopeless romantic like Zhang Zizhan. If a second woman failed to walk into his heart, he would likely grow increasingly deranged. All the wicked karma accumulated from past deeds stemmed entirely from beginningless greed, anger, and delusion; his own brother had now fallen victim to the delusion precept. To say nothing of having him cooperate on setting up a scheme for someone else right now, if someone else were to set up a scheme against him, he'd stumble right into it in his daze. This posed a severe disadvantage to the branch.

Ancestor felt utterly exhausted. From the survival of the branch down to the entanglements of romance, everything required his oversight, otherwise disaster would strike.

This state of Ancestor's was noticed by the observant Little Liu: "Ancestor, are you weighed down by worries?"

Ancestor glanced at him and said, "Fourth Brother has been depressed all day ever since your Fourth Sister-in-law's incident. If things continue like this, I'm afraid trouble will ensue."

Little Liu scratched his head: "Ancestor, this is one area where I can't be of any help—romance is something I don't understand."

Ancestor shot him a sideways glance and remained silent.

After dinner, Ancestor sat in complete silence. Zhu Jin walked over and asked, "Does the sir have something weighing on his mind?"

Ancestor nodded.

"Is it because I have become a burden to the sir?"

Ancestor hurriedly replied: "No, no, Madam overthinks it. It's my subordinate brother—three years ago, his beloved wife tragically perished. This brother of mine has never stopped yearning for her, and now his lovesickness has made him fall ill in mind and spirit. I simply don't know what to do..."

Those words brought tears streaming down Zhu Jin's face as she once more thought of Hong Laohu.

"Ah, what is love in this world? It teaches life and death to be pledged to one another. Were it not for the child in my belly, I would have followed the commander long ago."

"My condolences, Madam," Ancestor said.

"Sir," Zhu Jin wiped away her tears and said, "if you want to make someone forget another person, the best method is to love someone new. Once the raw rice is cooked into a mature meal, you must love whether you want to or not. The sir needs to find a way to distract your brother."

Ancestor nodded repeatedly. Yet the Fourth Leader currently had room in his heart for Huang Farong alone and wouldn't deign to glance at any other woman; besides, which young lady would ever fancy a half-mad eccentric in a perpetual daze?

"Ancestor, Bai Chongxi has sent someone to request an audience." Just as Ancestor was deep in thought, Little Liu entered the room.

"Greetings, 'Mr. Iron Plate.' General Bai has issued an order: he hopes the sir will proceed to Kunlun Pass immediately to discuss strategies for defending the pass."

"Very well! I will be there at once."