In the frosty October, Lushan Academy in Chengde welcod a noble guest. At the foot of the mountain, a squad of elite soldiers stood guard, while on the mountain, the bitter wind blew as a few people stared each other down.
"What a rare guest indeed! What brings the esteed Pri Minister of our country to this humble academy of mine?"
An elder with a large cloak, a ruddy face, and hair and beard all white, glared at the two visitors, one big and one small, in front of him.
"We are here to visit you, dear uncle. Su’er, quickly pay respects to your grand uncle." Song Zhiyuan nudged his son.
Song Lingsu was montarily stunned—how is he a grand uncle—but he obediently bowed and greeted, "Su’er pays respects to Grand Uncle."
"Please, I don’t deserve it!" Grandmaster Fu evaded the gesture, snorting lightly, and said to Song Zhiyuan, "Stop trying to claim kinship with . We are not of the sa path."
Song Zhiyuan said helplessly, "Uncle, our teacher has already passed away long ago, turned to re bones, yet you still hold a grudge against him!"
Grandmaster Fu snorted coldly, "So what? He stole the beauty in my heart, and having stolen it, he could not protect it; I hated him for a lifeti—no, two lifetis! I’ve long severed any brotherly ties with him, so don’t bother with this kinship nonsense."
The bitterness in his words made Song Lingsu glance sideways, catching a hint of gossip.
Could this be the lodramatic love triangle grandmother has spoken of?
Song Zhiyuan smiled faintly, "Yunzhi has heard that every Qing Ming in front of the teacher and his wife’s tomb, there are paulownia flowers and a jar of mulberry wine. It turns out it’s not you, Uncle, visiting them. Who could it be, so kind-hearted soul? If teacher is watching from above, he must be comforted."
The teacher’s wife loved paulownia flowers in life, and the teacher favored mulberry wine; among those who could bring these to offer each year, it must be the man before them.
Grandmaster Fu’s face ward slightly: "..."
However, an old man has an old man’s thick skin, and he stiffly retorted, "Even such a shaless one has people visit his tomb; that’s soone else’s kindness."
Song Zhiyuan said, "Certainly kind-hearted, just like you, Uncle, a compassionate and kind old soul."
Speaking, he looked at Song Lingsu, "Su’er, do you feel cold? No worries, even though it’s windy here, your Grand Uncle will invite us in for hot tea to warm up. He’s a good man; just bear it a little longer."
Song Lingsu: "..."
Grandmaster Fu: "..."
Truly a student taught by that shaless one, just as shaless, speaking such idle talk.
Grandmaster Fu wanted to say sothing in return, but Song Lingsu tily sneezed twice. The slender young man gave him a pitiful yet sheepishly amused look.
He held back and snorted, "I live poorly, nowhere near the Pri Minister’s wealth and power; no good tea here."
He turned and walked towards the hut behind him. After a couple of steps, he said, "Let tell you, surna Song, don’t claim kin. It’s useless."
"As the Saint says, ’Once a teacher, forever a father.’ I am the teacher’s disciple, so I must acknowledge you as my uncle."
Grandmaster Fu turned back to give him a fierce glare, resistant to persuasion.
Seeing the old man go inside, Song Lingsu couldn’t help but turn to his father, realizing this is the first ti he’s seen him so thick-skinned.
Song Zhiyuan smiled faintly with an expression of holding achievents and fa in secrecy.
There is a benefit to being thick-skinned, especially when dealing with extraordinary people—skin must be thicker.
Song Lingsu chuckled; he had learned sothing.
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