Chapter 16 Family Temple Blessings

Chapter 16 Family Temple Blessings

Tan Youming had long forgotten the heroic feats that made him famous in Haishi during his youth, driving off without a backward glance after dropping Shen Ziqi at the public school gate.

Corderbury was a small town with few traces of industrialization. Apart from a cluster of important colleges in its southwestern part, it was primarily known for its traditional handicrafts.

Many shops along the streets specialized in watches, custom-tailored suits, and fabric and leather goods. An old tailor had placed a rocking chair at his shop's entrance. When business was slow, he would bask in the sun, sipping mulled wine, unconcerned by impatient customers. At three in the afternoon, he would simply pull down the shutter and head home.

Cars moved slowly on the cobblestone streets. As Tan Youming passed a tailor’s shop, his gaze lingered briefly. He found a place to park and went inside.

“Is this for sale?”

Business was sluggish in winter, and the bearded tailor seemed slightly tipsy, yet his mind was surprisingly clear. “It wouldn’t suit you.”

Tan Youming smiled. “It’s for someone else.”

“Then it would need to be custom-made.”

“No, I’ll take this ready-made piece.” There was no time for custom fittings; once Shen Zongnian returned, they would have to head back.

The tailor scrutinized his young customer. “Sir, are you sure?” A suit, after all, had to fit perfectly—even a slight discrepancy could make a world of difference.

Tan Youming nodded confidently. He knew Shen Zongnian’s measurements intimately. Every season, both of them were summoned by Guan Kezhi to the old residence for bespoke fittings, from shirts to jackets, and from robes to suits.

The gift shopping took longer than expected. By the time Tan Youming drove back to Manchester, night had fallen. In the elevator of the Lincoln Apartments, he ran into Shen Zongnian, who had just returned. For a moment, Tan Youming was caught off guard, clutching the suit bag in his hand.

Shen Zongnian stood inside the elevator, holding the door open. “Aren’t you coming in?”

Tan Youming stepped in briskly, bumping up beside him, and said happily, “Why are you back so late?”

“You’re one to talk,” Shen Zongnian replied, facing forward and avoiding direct eye contact. However, the gift in Tan Youming’s hand was too obvious to ignore. Shen Zongnian assumed he had spent the day with Wei Sihe—that wastrel was always extravagant.

Not wanting to reveal that he had threatened Shen Zongnian’s younger brother earlier, Tan Youming changed the subject and handed him the bag. “Try it on.”

Shen Zongnian paused. “What is it?”

“Open it.”

Shen Zongnian glanced down. Inside was a brand-new, impeccably pressed suit.

With a “ding,” the elevator doors opened.

Tan Youming turned back to the man still standing inside. “Shen Zongnian?”

Shen Zongnian snapped out of his thoughts, tightening his grip on the suit bag.

The moment they entered the apartment, Tan Youming insisted he try on the gift. Unable to refuse, Shen Zongnian went to change.

Tan Youming cheerfully searched for a matching tie. After looking him over for a moment, he shook his head and sighed in admiration. “I’m a goddamn genius.”

“…”

Though not as expensive as high-end custom suits, this one stood out for its meticulous craftsmanship and authentic style.

Most of Shen Zongnian’s suits featured peaked or notched lapels, lending him a formal, stern, almost austere appearance—a waste of such a perfect frame.

Tan Youming had a sharp eye. He had chosen a single-vented design with diagonal overlapping buttons, accordion pleats, and patch pockets, accentuating Shen Zongnian’s broad shoulders and narrow waist, making him look distinguished and elegant.

Tan Youming admired the result approvingly, convinced that anyone with an eye for beauty would find it hard to look away. He patted his friend’s shoulder and sighed again. “You’re a genius too.”

Shen Zongnian, less vain, said nothing.

“The collar should sit closer,” Tan Youming leaned in, pressing a hand against his neck.

Once again, Shen Zongnian was enveloped in that particular warmth and gentleness that only Tan Youming exuded.

He recalled the box of pastries he had left behind in the parking lot. Tan Youming gave gifts openly, without hidden meanings—just as he would buy a scarf Guan Kezhi had her eye on while shopping or a warm jacket for Tan Zhongshan during travels.

It came naturally to him, a regular habit.

Yet Shen Zongnian felt trapped in this well-fitted, nearly perfect suit.

A set of clothing meant to represent respectability had instead encased a twisted, tormented body and a morally dark heart.

It symbolized Tan Youming’s care and affection for friends and family. The one wearing it was expected to be a proper, flawless older brother who lived up to such sentiments.

Even so, Shen Zongnian cherished the gift and said sincerely, “Thank you.”

Though his tone was flat, the gratitude was genuine.

Tan Youming hated hearing him express thanks and waved it off dismissively. “Enough of that. Just wear it for me a few times—that’s thanks enough.”

By the time they flew back from Manchester to Haishi, the Minor New Year was approaching. As the ACJ landed at the international airport, the humid sea breeze greeted them, and above stretched a clear blue sky seldom seen during Manchester winters.

Neither had time to rest. They dove straight into their workloads—backlogged tasks from their trip abroad and year-end duties kept them busy for nearly two weeks.

Not only did Shen Zongnian spend several nights away from home, but Tan Youming also slept in the company lounge for a week.

After the Minor New Year, employees of Huantu and Pinghai who were from out of town started taking their leave.

After concluding the year’s final meetings with senior executives, Tan Youming leaned back in his chair, massaging his temples. Thirsty, he dialed the internal line for his secretary to bring tea. Just as he finished reviewing three proposals, Yang Shiyan hurried into his office with documents in hand.

“When are you heading home?” Tan Youming looked up from the reports and asked.

Yang Shiyan was from Shenshi and usually didn’t celebrate the New Year in Haishi.

“Staying at my post until the end,” Yang Shiyan stacked the documents on the boss’s desk. “Heading back early just to listen to relatives try to set me up on blind dates? I’d rather earn a few extra days of triple pay.”

Tan Youming chuckled.

Yang Shiyan opened the files to report on the final year-end tasks.

“Please sign off on the approval documents and invoices for the employees’ New Year benefits.”

While Tan Youming was in Manchester, Yang Shiyan had mentioned during a video conference that Minglong planned to gift employees gold gift boxes for the New Year, while Huantu intended to offer paid travel lottery.

The two giants seemed to be competing in employee benefits.

Tan Youming asked, “How are you so well-informed?”

“After all these years as a chief assistant, I’ve built some connections,” Yang Shiyan replied, dedicated to her role. “Boss, to win hearts is to win the world. Pinghai can’t afford to give the media any reason to criticize us.”

With Minglong, Huantu, and Pinghai standing as a triad of power—cooperating yet competing—Tan Youming held a video conference with the HR and finance departments, approving a substantial budget for the executive office to handle the matter.

After Tan Youming finished signing, Yang Shiyan opened the last file. “These are the reports involving Mr. Shen from the past month. Seems like they’re trying to meet year-end quotas—there are more this month than in previous months. Please take a look.”

“I’ve given them a quick screening. The ones marked in red have already been addressed. Those in yellow are from outlets unwilling to retract, claiming our offers were too low.”

“The yellow-marked sections haven’t been published yet. They plan to release them during the Spring Festival when traffic is high. A few of them are willing to negotiate with us, but their intention isn’t about money—they hope you can grant them a New Year interview.”

Now that's what I'd call thinking outside the box.

People say Tan Youming's arrogance is three parts the Tan family's fault, seven parts Shen Zongnian's doing. But everyone knows that using Shen Zongnian as bait to lure Tan Youming works every time.

“Their interview style is roughly like this,” Yang Shiyan flipped to the next page for him. “If you’re willing, they won’t publish the article about Mr. Shen.”

Tan Youming read through it line by line, his tone calm. “Send lawyer letters to these types and these types. As for those who complain about the payment being too low, they won’t get a single cent.”

“Interviews,” Tan Youming skimmed through several reports quickly, “this one can be accepted. Reject the others. Whether to threaten or sweet-talk them, you decide.”

“Understood.” Yang Shiyan had plenty of experience with this kind of work.

Tan Youming trusted her completely. “Alright, finish up and head home early.”

As New Year's Eve approached, the Tan family gradually began their spring cleaning and even invited a feng shui master to conduct rituals.

Baojingshan was terraced by elevation, with the higher elevations housing the ancestral homes and temples of the Tan family.

The foot of the mountain was uninhabited, reserved for feng shui ceremonies, halls, and gardens to accommodate close and distant relatives during clan activities.

By Elder Tan's generation, new Western-style houses had been built on the mountainside, mirroring how the Tan family had blended old and new over generations, embracing diversity.

Tan Zhongshan and Guan Kezhi lived in the main residence, Wanjing Hall, while Tan Youming and Shen Zongnian had their own octagonal building.

The servants cleaned the master and side rooms of the two young masters with pomelo leaf water, pasted spring couplets, and adorned the sliding doors, Manchu-style windows, and the vintage spiral wooden staircase with gold foil.

Old Master Tan and his wife were driven back from their villa in Chuntaishan, where they had been recuperating.

The auntie was busy making traditional pastries—oil horns, egg crisps, and fried dough balls—filling two large basins for the New Year's Eve celebration to ward off the Nian monster.

From the first to the tenth day of the lunar new year, fishermen and merchants would stay in port. The head chef had already arranged for charcoal and ingredients like fish maw and sea cucumber for the "poon choi" to be prepared in advance.

Shen Zongnian and Tan Youming only left their respective offices on New Year's Eve, hurriedly grabbing two sets of clothes before rushing to the old family home on Baojing Mountain.

Upon arriving home, they were first taken by Tan Zhongshan to the ancestral temple at the back of the mountain to burn incense.

This temple was a family temple, while the ancestral hall was on another mountain, reserved exclusively for worship by the Tan family. Outside the temple stood a tall, lush redbud, older than Elder Tan by several decades.

The Tan family had made their fortune generations ago through overseas trade and seafaring, and they worshipped Mazu, the Goddess of the Sea.

The golden statue of Mazu wore a crown and ceremonial robes, surrounded by fresh flowers, candles, and fruits, radiating dignity and grace.

Tan Youming and Shen Zongnian lit incense together, knelt side by side in front of the hall, kowtowed, and paid their respects.

Outside the temple, bells rang several times. The feng shui master flicked blessed water on the corners of their clothes to cleanse away impurities. The two bowed again and kowtowed once more.

When one-third of the candles had burned, Tan Zhongshan lit the eulogy/prayer sheets and placed them in the furnace. Tan Youming and Shen Zongnian each made their wishes, nodded, and took their final bow.

In the warm glow of the candles, the benevolent face of the goddess was illuminated. The golden-red glow lit up the two young, handsome faces. What wishes they made were known only to Mazu.

Tan Youming opened his eyes first. As soon as Shen Zongnian lifted his head, he saw the other looking at him.

Shen Zongnian raised an eyebrow, wordlessly asking, "What?"

Tan Youming didn't speak, only gave him a triumphant grin. Shen Zongnian thought he looked a bit foolish, unaware that a trace of softness had involuntarily flickered in his own eyes.

Some mixture of exasperation, resignation, and amusement, gone in an instant.

Tan Zhongshan said, "You may rise."

The group returned to Wanjing Hall together. Tan Youming poked Shen Zongnian's arm and said, "Look, it's fruiting."

Shen Zongnian looked over. Outside the temple, a small sacred fig had sprouted new branches. Nestled beside a century-old banyan tree, it wasn't very tall, but its leaves were round like fans, green and jade-like, with golden undersides.

The hanging fruits were jade-colored, round with only a hint of crimson at the tip, resembling red beans.

Author's Note:

Rumor: They've already had the wedding ceremony (just kidding).