Chapter Fifty-Three: Xu Ziyi

In the bitter cold, he walked toward Lin Yan. Already frail by nature, he shivered several times in those few steps, his body trembling uncontrollably. Yet on his expressionless face, there was a hint—just a hint—of stubbornness.

“Your son greets his father.” Like his gaze, his words were hollow, devoid of any color.

“Is it fun out here? Or do you still want the servants to laugh at you? Just like your mother, useless! Filthy bastard!” Lin Yan’s words were thick with undisguised contempt.

Lin He kept his head bowed. His face, reddened from the cold, betrayed no emotion. He was neither angered nor saddened by these words; he had heard them far too many times. Nearly every day, he endured such abuse, and had long since learned to meet it with indifference.

Since he could remember, within the vast Lin residence, his own laughter had been almost unheard. He had forgotten how to smile, and did not even know what his own laughter might sound like.

He remembered, in the early days, trying to win his father’s favor. With childish naivety, he believed it was simply because he was not pleasing enough. That was why he was subjected to constant scolding, why his mother wept day after day.

Yes, it was all his own fault.

Sometimes he heard the cheerful voices of other children passing by outside the walls. He tried to imitate them—tried, time and again, to pull at his face before the bronze mirror until it was red and stiff, just hoping to leave a good impression on his father.

Yes, it must be so. If only he could make his father smile, if only his father could love him again, then their family would surely be as happy as others.

But what awaited him was an endless abyss. He was like a puppet, a discarded plaything, gently pushed toward the depths by his own father—then, with a crash.

Shattered to pieces.

“Smile! Smile! Smile! Why are you smiling? How can you still smile?”

“What do you think you are? Do you know how disgusting your smile is?”

“Lin He, you and your mother are both so lowly! Filthy!”

He had never been needed. His father only wanted to show outsiders how much he cared for his family, for him.

After that, all he received was endless pain, then numbness, then habit.

He realized, from the moment he could remember, that this seemingly harmonious family was already broken. The couple inside the house were now strangers to each other—

Like enemies.

Black and white alternated; the world in his eyes was reduced to mere shades.

He did not know why things were this way, nor did he ponder it. Even if he was a puppet, even if he was broken, at least his mother was still there, and that was enough.

Until that day.

The Lin residence, Lin He’s sixth birthday.

Lin Yan hosted a lavish banquet, inviting important figures from all the realms. Out of respect for the Lin family, the various clans sent representatives—people neither too high nor too low in their family standings.

Yet that was enough. Lin Yan mingled with these guests, fawning and flattering them, just for the slim chance that one might help him within the family.

The nightmare began here.

At six, Lin He already understood much, and had learned to hide all his emotions; or perhaps, he had forgotten them entirely, becoming like a puppet, a walking corpse, neither smiling nor playing.

Though he was the protagonist of the banquet, no one paid him any mind. He watched, indifferent, as that man grovelled before others. Beside him was his mother, a woman still full of grace.

She sat alone on a long chair, her skin fair as snow, her eyes like clear springs. In every glance, there was an elegant, noble air.

Time seemed gentle to her; her delicate cheeks showed no trace of age. Every movement was captivating, stirring the hearts of those at the banquet.

That hollow, cold gaze and fresh, ethereal bearing constantly drew the eyes of those hypocritical men, as if whispering to them: conquer her, possess her—she could be yours.

Eyes like hungry wolves, like venomous snakes. Lin He despised such looks, but his mother was indifferent, accustomed to them.

Amid the clamor of the banquet, they sat in silence until dawn, until dusk, until night fell—never exchanging a word.

Here, there was no place for the two of them.

Night deepened.

The banquet dispersed, most guests departed. Lin He, amid false praise from the outsiders, helped his mother back to her room.

Yes, all was false. They did not see the cracks in the family, nor would they care. All they knew was the man’s narration—a tale of happiness, of perfection.

“Haha, Brother Lin Yan, your hospitality truly flatters us,” came a voice from outside.

Inside, Lin He helped his mother to the bed. She seemed weary; Lin He felt a pang at the sight of her furrowed brow.

He stood outside, listening to the noisy voices nearby. He grew restless, glanced at his mother, but her expression remained unchanged—still so empty and pale, like a lifeless lily.

“Gentlemen, tonight we don’t leave until we're drunk!” As they drew closer, that hateful voice grew clearer.

“Why are you still here?” Lin Yan looked at Lin He, about to scold him, but seeing the outsiders, he suddenly put on a benevolent face, kindly saying, “Go on, rest early.”

The young Lin He watched: four unfamiliar men and his so-called father, cups and jugs in hand, faces flushed with drink.

Slowly, the surroundings seemed to darken. His vision blurred. He strained to look ahead, but all he saw were five monsters clad in human skin, eyes bloodshot, faces twisted, roaring wildly.

With a crash, a jug fell to the ground, snapping Lin He back to reality. In a hollow voice, he greeted these so-called uncles, earning their praise.

He glanced once more at his mother and withdrew. In that last moment, the lifeless lily seemed to raise its head, meeting Lin He’s eyes.

Then, the door shut tight, and inside came the sounds of drinking games.

Lin He stood outside, suddenly wishing to burst in and scold them, to tell them it was late and his mother needed rest. But he could not go in; he found a chasm before him, impossible to cross.

He could not step over it.

By some strange urge, he sat on the steps. Since the night was destined to be noisy, at least he could accompany his mother; so he thought.

Yet this night would not be ordinary for him.

The raucous voices filtered through the door.

“Brother Lin Yan, I truly envy you: such a lovely son, such a happy family.”

“Hey, you missed something!”

“What? What did I miss?”

“Of course, Brother Lin Yan’s beautiful wife!”

“Haha, my oversight, my oversight—punish me, punish me!”

“Brother Lin Yan, your wife is as stunning as ever. She still makes hearts race!”

“You’re getting too cheeky! She’s Brother Lin Yan’s wife; let’s not go too far.”

“Gentlemen, you jest! A woman is but clothing; brothers are like limbs! How could our friendship be affected by a mere woman?”

“Haha, you see! Only Brother Lin Yan truly understands me! Drink, drink!”

“Drink, drink! But drinking alone is dull!”

“Oh? Are you plotting something again?”

“Don’t interrupt him—go on, speak! With Brother Lin Yan here, he’s the big man of the Lin family! What can’t be said?”

“Why not invite your wife as well? It’s dull for us men to drink alone!”

“Good, good!”

“But is that proper? Brother Lin Yan hasn’t said anything yet!”

“Don’t let Brother Lin Yan throw you out later, haha.”

“Brother Wang is right. Drinking alone is dull. I’ll call my wife over! Zi Yi! Zi Yi! Come join us!”

Xu Zi Yi—a simple name. It was hers, his mother’s name. Six-year-old Lin He sat on the steps outside, his mind drifting, lost in thought.