Chapter 264

Holding Yachang as he returned, and listening to him recount how the Fourth Prince had arrived at the Censorate, Wang Xiujin didn’t think much of it. He handed his son the newly crafted Huarong Dao puzzle to play with. While Yachang played, Wang Xiujin narrated the story behind Huarong Dao. Yachang listened intently, his hands constantly moving the small blocks on the board. The Huarong Dao Wang Xiujin had commissioned bore only the names on each block; though he could imagine what the characters might look like, he was no artist, and other painters might not capture his descriptions accurately. Names alone, he thought, were more straightforward.

After sending Yachang aside to play, Wang Xiujin pondered the Fourth Prince’s purpose at the Censorate. He could roughly guess the reason and felt guilty toward his father—he seemed to have given his father yet another matter to handle. Silently repeating apologies in his heart, he picked up a book, wondering if Li Linshan ought to have returned by now. Surely a military meeting would adjourn faster than one among civil officials. He decided to tell the kitchen to prepare more dishes and cook extra rice—a welcome for Li Linshan’s return, when both grandfather and father would likely come home together.

That evening, the kitchen had prepared a generous spread, but when dinnertime came, only Manager Mi and Wang Xiujin, with his younger siblings and Yachang, were present. Manager Mi glanced at the laden table. “If they were to return, they would have sent word ahead,” he remarked gently, urging the younger ones to eat more.

Wang Xiujin sighed inwardly, realizing how young and impatient he still was. Just as he was lost in thought, the steward rushed in, announcing, “Master Mi, Young Master Xiujin, the old master and the young master have returned.” Everyone in the room rose at once and headed outside. Yachang clung to his father’s leg, eyes wide. Wang Xiujin bent to pick up his son, and at the door, they saw General Li and Li Linshan entering the courtyard together, both still exuding an air of stern resolve.

“Where is Father?” Manager Mi approached General Li, anxious to speak but stilled by the occasion. Not seeing the old general, Manager Mi frowned slightly, worried that something had happened.

“Father went to the palace to see His Majesty on urgent business. Have the kitchen warm the dishes,” General Li explained before Manager Mi ushered him off to change and wash. Wang Xiujin, holding his son, stood behind Manager Mi, looking toward Li Linshan. Yachang held his father with one arm, his other hand in his mouth, eyes fixed on his father, aware that elders had things to discuss and he should not interrupt.

Li Linshan returned to his quarters to change. Wang Xiujin carried Yachang back as well, and once out of sight, Li Linshan took the boy from him. “Yachang’s grown heavier, and a bit taller too,” he remarked.

“Father, I missed you.” Yachang buried his head against his father’s neck, one arm around his father, his voice hoarse, thick with tears.

Li Linshan gently patted his son’s back. From the beginning of the military exercises to their end, he had hardly seen his son for over a month, and his longing was undiminished. Not knowing how to express affection or longing, he simply held his child. Unlike Wang Xiujin, who would kiss their son, Li Linshan had never had such moments with his own father. Raised by his grandfather, who loved him dearly but was often busy with military affairs, Li Linshan lacked examples to learn from.

Wang Xiujin saw the pain in Li Linshan’s eyes and shook his head inwardly. The ancients, he mused, were so reserved in expressing love for their children, as if voicing their affection would cost them a piece of themselves. He rolled his eyes slightly but let it go—after all, he too was now one of these “ancients.” He squeezed Yachang’s small hand, suddenly realizing the boy might be crying. He shot Li Linshan a glare—no matter how reserved, he ought to comfort their son.

Li Linshan felt wronged but stiffly stroked his son’s back. “I… I missed you too.” After saying it, he found it wasn’t so difficult. Yachang’s arms tightened around him, and he felt a dampness on his shoulder. Suppressing the urge to scold his son about men not shedding tears easily, his heart softened, an unfamiliar feeling slowly blossoming and growing rapidly. He hugged his son tighter, pressing a hand to his head. “I’m back now. There’s nothing to fear.”

Somehow, watching this scene, Wang Xiujin felt his nose prick with emotion. He quickly turned away and cleared his throat. “Come now, our parents and your siblings are waiting for us in the main hall.”

Since Li Linshan’s return, Yachang had become his little shadow, never letting him stray far. If Li Linshan distanced himself, Yachang would look pitiful, as if about to cry. Wang Xiujin’s suspicion that his son was a fellow transmigrator completely vanished; as a member of the transmigrator ranks himself, he knew no adult could feign such behavior. He seemed to forget that some people were born actors.

It wasn’t until Yachang had fallen asleep that Li Linshan spoke with some concern. “Yachang’s behavior isn’t good. He’s a boy—he shouldn’t cry so easily. This must change.”

“Why didn’t you correct him earlier? Isn’t it too late now?” Wang Xiujin glared directly at him. Li Linshan’s heart had softened; wasn’t his own heart soft too? They looked at each other, Wang Xiujin meeting his gaze confidently—he wasn’t wrong, after all.

Li Linshan took a few steps forward and pulled Wang Xiujin into his arms. “I’ve been away for over a month. Did you miss me, dear?”

Wang Xiujin’s lips curled upward and his eyes narrowed. “Dear” indeed—what was that about? He lifted a foot and kicked Li Linshan. Any lingering longing he might have felt vanished at that word.

“I missed you,” Li Linshan said, unfazed by the kick. He held Wang Xiujin tightly and realized that once he’d spoken of longing, it became easier to repeat. Mimicking their son, he buried his head in Wang Xiujin’s shoulder, and after speaking, gave his neck a gentle bite. Wang Xiujin shuddered, trying to push him away, but Li Linshan’s hold was unyielding.

That night, Yachang was moved, bed and all, by his shameless parents to another room, only discovering at dawn that he had been relocated. Crawling out of his little bed, Yachang found the quiet room unsettling, as if his parents had forgotten him. Barefoot on the carpet, he craned his neck toward their bed. The curtains were still drawn, so his father and little dad must not be up yet. He ran to the bedside, lifted a corner of the drapes, and carefully crawled in. After much effort, he finally clambered onto the bed, finding only his little dad there. Yachang widened his eyes, pouted, and snuggled beside his little dad, burrowing under the covers and using his arm as a pillow. Soon, he was fast asleep again.

Wang Xiujin had awakened when Yachang started climbing onto the bed, but after last night’s exertions, he was so drowsy he couldn’t open his eyes, his throat hoarse and not wanting to speak. He didn’t move. With his son sleeping in his arms, Wang Xiujin’s sleepiness grew heavier, and he drifted off again.

Li Linshan returned from his morning exercises, glancing at where his son had slept the night before—he was gone. He checked the bed, then went to wash up and change. Only after he’d finished did he instruct the servants to bring breakfast to their courtyard and sent someone to the main hall to inform the elders they’d be dining in their own quarters.

Wang Xiujin woke naturally. His little bundle of warmth was gone. Rubbing his waist, he sat up to see Li Linshan watching their son read. Observing the expressions on both father and son, Wang Xiujin’s lips curved upward. Perhaps it was blood ties, or maybe familiarity over time, but at that moment, Li Linshan and Yachang looked remarkably alike in both features and demeanor—both wearing stern faces, which Wang Xiujin found irresistibly endearing. Suddenly, he wanted to make matching outfits for them; even if they never wore them outside, it would be amusing to see them in the courtyard. He began to understand why so many people in his previous life prepared family sets of clothing.

“You’re awake? I’ve had breakfast sent,” Li Linshan said, noticing Wang Xiujin’s gaze and turning to call a servant. Wang Xiujin didn’t stop him—he was indeed hungry.

Yachang looked up at his little dad, noticing he seemed uncomfortable. He set his book aside, jumped off his stool, and approached the bed. “Little dad, are you unwell? Does it hurt?” His large eyes were full of concern.

“I’m fine,” Wang Xiujin replied, forcing himself out of bed so as not to lose face in front of his son. But he immediately felt a certain overused part of him ache terribly. He gritted his teeth, mentally noting this down against Li Linshan, and forced a smile when he met his son’s worried gaze, reaching out to tousle his hair, ignoring the old saying that boys’ heads shouldn’t be touched.

Yachang, clutching his head, ran back to his book.

By the time the three of them left the courtyard, it was nearly noon. Wang Xiujin glanced at his son, realizing they’d missed the time to send him to his grandfather. “Father-in-law sent word earlier,” Li Linshan explained. “Yachang will rest at home today; he’ll go over tomorrow.”

Wang Xiujin nodded, and the three headed to the old master’s courtyard, only to find he had not returned home. Exchanging glances, Li Linshan reassured Wang Xiujin with a glance before taking their son to his father’s quarters.

General Li had already gone to the barracks, and Manager Mi had left for the shop. With the elders out, the couple decided to take their son to the marketplace to let him see the world. Wang Xiujin had considered making matching outfits for Li Linshan and Yachang—even if only to wear in the courtyard, it would still be delightful.

Li Linshan had no idea what Wang Xiujin was scheming and didn’t mind visiting the market. He carried their son and helped Wang Xiujin into the carriage, and the family of three set off on their outing. On the way, Wang Xiujin shared his original idea of building a large, centralized marketplace, but explained that such a concept wasn’t feasible yet. Li Linshan looked puzzled. Wang Xiujin smiled and said, “In the capital, while average incomes have risen, people aren’t more willing to spend. Merchants seek profit—if there’s no guarantee of earnings, who would open a shop just to lose money?”