Chapter 98

Chapter 98

The morning breeze on the mountain was cool and gentle, easing the heat from their climb.

Every grave of the Jiang family was well-maintained, no weeds overgrown, and the headstones were spotless.

Nan Shuyi placed the bouquet in his hands before the grave in front of him. Seeing the name on the headstone, his hands wouldn't stop shaking.

Although he knew Jiang Yicen was right beside him, it was still hard to accept that he'd died so young.

Jiang Yicen couldn't bear to see him so grieved—it hurt him too—so he hurriedly pulled him away from his own grave.

Looking at his own tombstone reminded him of how he died, but he didn't regret it.

After paying respects to all of Jiang Yicen's family by blood, they went on to pay respects to Uncle Yuan.

Uncle Yuan had lived decades longer than the Jiang family, and his grave was closer to the foot of the mountain, so his descendants could visit more easily.

Unlike the Jiang family graves, Uncle Yuan's headstone bore a photograph. In it, he looked a bit older than when Jiang Yicen had last seen him, but he was smiling brightly.

Jiang Yicen stood before Uncle Yuan's grave for a long time. During the two years when his second brother had left home to join the army, Uncle Yuan had been by his side. Uncle Yuan was family to him too.

"Uncle Yuan, thanks for everything you did for our family."

"You probably never imagined that I'd end up in the world you once lived in. Seeing how much you gave, I'll take care of your family the same way you did."

·

After paying their respects, Jiang Yicen and Nan Shuyi descended the mountain and asked around to find out who ran the cemetery.

They discovered that Uncle Yuan had purchased the mountain many years ago—timing it right before private ownership was abolished—so this small mountain became his private property.

The mountain had stayed in Uncle Yuan's family ever since, passed down to Chen Zhicheng's grandpa on his mom's side, who then gave it to Chen Zhicheng's oldest uncle on his mom's side.

The oldest uncle was never much of a student and had lived in Li City his whole life, running a pig farm.

Now Chen Zhicheng's parents had come here mainly because his uncle was here, so they could take care of each other as they got older.

Jiang Yicen and Nan Shuyi went down the mountain and quickly found out where the biggest pig farm was—right at the bottom of the mountain.

All the graves on this mountain bore the surname Jiang, most belonging to Jiang Yuan's descendants. The old guy who looked after the cemetery didn't just watch the graves—he also helped keep an eye on the mountain.

Nan Shuyi swapped a pack of cigarettes for the exact location of the pig farm.

The two arrived at the pig farm.

When they got to the main gate, Jiang Yicen and Nan Shuyi saw the farm wasn't what they'd expected.

There was a security guard at the entrance. Nan Shuyi's car obviously wasn't cheap, but the guard still asked who they were looking for.

Nan Shuyi: "We're here to talk business with your boss."

The current owner of the pig farm was Chen Zhicheng's eldest maternal uncle.

Security guard: "Wait a moment."

He made an internal call. As it turned out, Uncle Chen was there. He hadn't expected people to show up in person, but since he was in business, he wasn't about to turn anyone away.

They drove in and parked in front of the office building.

The place was spotless, with no bad smells—a clear sign the owner ran it well.

Before long, a heavyset guy in a farming jumpsuit walked over with a big smile.

"Hello, hello! I'm the owner of Fengguang Farm, name's Jiang Xunbao."

Surname Jiang?

Didn't Uncle Yuan have any sons? How come this guy had the last name Jiang?

Nan Shuyi introduced himself first: "Hello, we're the purchasing managers from Cuizhu Restaurant. We heard your farm has great pigs and wanted to check it out."

Jiang Xunbao knew of Cuizhu Restaurant. He gave a thumbs up: "I've been to your restaurant—that chicken soup is out of this world!"

Jiang Xunbao was super chatty, friendly, and had a loud voice.

Because the older folks in his family called him A-Bao when he was a kid, everyone just called him Boss Bao.

He showed Nan Shuyi and Jiang Yicen around the pig farm, introducing them to the different breeds.

"Besides the pigs we raise indoors, we also have our region's famous black pigs in the back hills. These black pigs take two years to be ready for slaughter, and their meat is especially tasty when stir-fried. Why don't you two stick around for lunch? I'll have our chef whip up a few pork dishes—I promise you'll want more after one bite."

Nan Shuyi and Jiang Yicen had only come to thank him for taking care of the Jiang family graves, but now they were actually interested in his pig farm, especially the black pork.

At noon, the two indeed stayed for lunch, with Jiang Xunbao treating them warmly.

Since Nan Shuyi worked out a lot, pork didn't show up often in his house—only when a certain dish called for it, and even then, it was always high quality.

After tasting it, Jiang Yicen remarked: "This pork is really tasty."

Nan Shuyi nodded in agreement: "Indeed, the meat is really firm."

Jiang Xunbao patted his chest in assurance: "I can honestly say my black pork is up there with the best in the whole country!"

Nan Shuyi had been handling most of the conversation, but during the meal, Jiang Xunbao learned that Jiang Yicen also bore the surname Jiang.

"Then we're practically family!"

"Yes, we are family." Jiang Yicen didn't mention his name—it would've freaked the guy out—and instead steered the conversation toward Uncle Yuan. "Boss Bao, where is your family originally from?"

Jiang Xunbao: "My ancestors were from Lincheng. My family was once quite wealthy, though our history is complicated. My ancestor was a steward for the wealthiest family in Lincheng. I don't know if you've heard of the Jiang family."

Nan Shuyi: "A little."

Jiang Xunbao: "People in the old days knew about them, but the younger generation nowadays doesn't. It's rare to find anyone who does."

Jiang Yicen smiled: "How is your family history complicated?"

Jiang Xunbao laughed heartily: "Our family has a rule—if a generation has no sons, one of the children is given the surname Jiang. Our ancestors wanted us to never forget where we came from. My ancestor was a beggar who was taken in by the Jiang family. They gave him good food and clothing, and he worked for the Jiang family ever after. The Jiangs treated their servants well, and my ancestor rose from a gatekeeper to steward, a position that was then passed down through the generations."

Only then did Jiang Yicen understand—Uncle Yuan may not have had sons, but there were still descendants bearing the Jiang surname, thanks to this family rule.

At this, he let out a soft sigh.

"Unfortunately, war destroyed people, and it destroyed the Jiang family as well."

Jiang Yicen then steered the conversation toward the cemetery.

"Has your family been taking care of the graves on the mountain all along?"

Jiang Xunbao: "Yes, we've hired someone to watch over the mountain and the graves. As long as there are Jiang family members around, we'll keep guarding them. Others may forget them, but we can't."

Jiang Yicen poured himself a glass of wine: "Boss Bao, here's to you."

He couldn't speak the truth, but everything was in that toast.

"Heh heh, Boss Jiang, you can really hold your liquor." Jiang Xunbao was equally generous—seeing Jiang Yicen drink, he knocked his back in one shot. Nan Shuyi, since he still had to drive, raised his tea in a toast instead.

Nan Shuyi said, "Thanks for today, Boss Bao."

Jiang Xunbao beamed with delight, feeling pretty sure they'd want to buy his pork.

Jiang Yicen got the answer he wanted, and after dinner, he returned to Lincheng with Nan Shuyi.

As they left, Jiang Xunbao walked them to the door and gave them half a side of black pork, packed with several ice packs to keep it chilled.

Jiang Yicen tried to talk him out of it, but he couldn't—in the end, they took the half side of pre-cut pork back to Lincheng.

·

After the two returned to Lincheng, Nan Shuyi kept a small portion of the pork at home and had Uncle Chen deliver the other three-quarters to Nan Anru, Liu Dan, and the company's food quality inspection department.

If Liu Dan thought the meat was good, they could develop a few more pork-based dishes.

Uncle Yuan had done so much for the Jiang family—helping his descendants out was the least they could do.

Their dinner featured the black pork, with Nan Shuyi preparing several dishes in a variety of ways. Jiang Yicen ate happily.

Knowing the Jiang family graves were still there, the weight on his heart quietly lifted.

Before long, the weather began to turn cool.

After dinner, he sat on the balcony enjoying the night breeze. The days were still warm, but the nights had grown colder.

The night sky over Lincheng showed no stars, but he could see the blinking red lights of planes crossing the darkness—it had its own kind of charm.

It's good to be alive, he thought.

Nan Shuyi finished cleaning up the kitchen and came over and sat down beside him.

Today, Nan Shuyi was even more upset than Jiang Yicen. He was uncharacteristically quiet, a bit listless, and lay his head on Jiang Yicen's lap.

Jiang Yicen ran his fingers through his hair—coarse and thick. "There's an old saying: people with stiff hair tend to be stubborn."

Nan Shuyi: "Are you saying I'm stubborn?"

Jiang Yicen shook his head: "No, I'm saying you don't need to dwell on the past anymore. I think of it as a dream, and you should too."

Nan Shuyi pressed Jiang Yicen's hand to his cheek and replied, "Okay."

But in truth, he couldn't. Seeing Jiang Yicen's grave had cut him deep—it was hard not to think about how much it must have hurt him back then.

Even so, Nan Shuyi was still feeling low. Jiang Yicen didn't press further, just stayed by his side.

After lying across Jiang Yicen's lap for a while, Nan Shuyi suddenly kissed the back of Jiang Yicen's hand.

"I'm a little sad. Kiss me."

Jiang Yicen leaned down and kissed him on the lips.

"One more."

Jiang Yicen kissed him again.

"Still sad. One more."

Jiang Yicen looked at him suspiciously, then smiled. He stopped—he had reason to suspect someone was pretending to be sad just to get kisses.

Nan Shuyi pressed his hand on the back of Jiang Yicen's head, pulling him down into a deep kiss.

There. That fixed it.

·

Three days later, at the Jiang house.

A young man had just stepped out of a ride-share, around thirty years old. He was pretty casual, wearing a T-shirt and shorts, with a hint of worry on his face.

He had just returned from abroad and was still getting used to everything. Back in the US, you could do everything with your phone, but before he left, he'd still been using cash.

Jiang Xingchen still wasn't even used to using WeChat. Chen Zhicheng, seeing he hadn't replied for a while, called him directly.

Chen Zhicheng: "Xingchen, man, my friend really didn't mean it that day. He probably had something come up at home when he left—I saw his face go pale. Can't you reschedule with him?"

Jiang Xingchen: "I could, but I'm not that petty. Since he had something come up and didn't blow me off on purpose—but I really don't have time today. I'm about to meet a buyer."

Chen Zhicheng: "You're really selling the house?"

Jiang Xingchen: "Mm. There's no point in keeping this house."

Chen Zhicheng: "But isn't that your family's ancestral home? If you sell it, the Jiang family won't have an ancestral home anymore."

Jiang Xingchen: "I don't have a choice. The family needs the money."

Chen Zhicheng: "What's with our family's luck this year? My family went bankrupt, and now something's happened to yours."

Jiang Xingchen: "Don't tell your parents or your uncle about this."

Chen Zhicheng: "You're afraid they'll try to stop you?"

Jiang Xingchen: "They'd rather sell everything they have than let me sell the Jiang house."

Chen Zhicheng: "How much do you need?"

Jiang Xingchen: "A lot. Forget it, don't worry about it. Selling the house should cover it."

Chen Zhicheng had only recently learned about the Jiang family from his own family, mainly because Jiang Yicen had been asking about them. The Jiang family rarely came back to China, so he'd never had much contact with them. Only now did he realize how connected the Jiang family was to his own.

He wasn't that close with Jiang Xingchen either, so he didn't ask any more questions.

Chen Zhicheng: "Alright, let me know when you're free."

Jiang Xingchen: "Okay, I'm heading to meet the buyer now. Talk to you later."

Jiang Xingchen had grown up in America. His family made him study Chinese from a young age—if he didn't learn, he'd get a beating. He wasn't perfectly fluent, but he could communicate fine.

When he arrived, someone at the Jiang house opened the door for him.

The man smiled: "Master Jiang, you're here. The agent and the buyer are already upstairs waiting for you."

Jiang Xingchen: "That's such an old-fashioned way to address me? Uncle, just call me Liam."

The steward smiled. "Of course, Master Jiang."

Jiang Xingchen: "..."

Whatever.

He followed the steward's directions up to the second-floor study to meet the agent and the buyer.

He looked around for a bit before finding the study upstairs.

The upstairs study had excellent natural light. The room had a desk and chairs—the desk was especially spacious, and the chairs were handcrafted and showed their age.

He had an inventory of all the furniture in the Jiang residence, and every piece was valuable. This desk alone was currently worth a hundred grand or more, but he didn't have time to sell them piece by piece, so he'd have to let the buyer take everything—after all, it was all antiques.

At that moment, a man stood before the large window in the study, his back turned to Jiang Xingchen. He was toying with the window latch, and the wind blew in, instantly cooling the stuffy room.

The Jiang residence was in a prime spot—south-facing, so it stayed cool in summer and warm in winter.

Standing by the window was a tall young man, standing tall and straight, dressed in a stylish beige casual blazer. The light caught his suit, giving off a faint reddish sheen. You could tell just by looking that the fabric was top-notch. He wore Oxford leather shoes with no logo—possibly handcrafted to order.

Anyone who got to view the house must be pretty well-off.

Jiang Xingchen ventured, "Hello, are you Mr. Jiang?"

Jiang Xingchen had only found out yesterday from the agent that the buyer had the same last name—Jiang.

The man slowly turned around when he heard someone speak.

When Jiang Xingchen saw his face, he stood there frozen.

In the middle of their living room hung a huge framed photo—a family portrait of the Jiangs taken before they left for America. In it, there was a photo of his great-great-grandmother with a young man—they said he was his great-great-grandfather's youngest brother, who died in the War of Resistance.

Every time he went back to the estate, he'd see those old photos. Even in black and white, he could recall every face.

He couldn't believe there could be two people in the world who looked so alike, yet that man had passed away decades ago and never married, so he couldn't possibly have descendants.

Jiang Xingchen stammered, "You..."

The other man smiled politely at him. "Hello."

Jiang Xingchen: "I..." This was terrible—when he smiled, he looked even more like the man in the old photograph!

Jiang Yicen: "My name is Jiang Yicen. You're Jiang Xingchen, right?"

Jiang Xingchen's legs went weak.

This was truly seeing a ghost—how could even the name be the same!