“Five,” Xiao Kun said.
“Mm.” Xiang Xian thought of the lonely little Xiao Kun in the Liao Kingdom and ached, wanting to cherish him and spare him such isolation. “You probably didn’t understand then.”
“The Xiao Family didn’t have me keep vigil,” Xiao Kun replied. “Master took me away for days. When we returned, Mother was already buried.”
“Where?” Xiang Xian asked.
“I don’t know.” Xiao Kun’s eyes held confusion. “But she has a plaque in the Xiao Family ancestral temple. I visit during sacrifices—last on New Year’s Eve after the cousins leave, so no one feels awkward.”
Xiang Xian looked up at him. Xiao Kun folded paper money casually and said earnestly, “If she were alive, she’d like you a lot.”
“Why?” Xiang Xian raised an eyebrow expectantly.
Xiao Kun smiled. “She liked laughing, lively, cute kids. I was the opposite—quiet from childhood, like a debt collector.”
Xiang Xian laughed. “You still don’t talk much.”
“You know that.”
Xiao Kun indeed spoke little, save a bit more with Xiang Xian.
“You’re stubborn,” Xiang Xian said.
“Born that way.” Xiao Kun finished a paper ingot. Xiang Xian said, “Give it to me.”
“Are you a child?” Xiao Kun handed it over helplessly.
Xiang Xian added, “Once you fix on something, you won’t turn back even if your head splits open. In a fight, you’re reckless.”
He thought of Sa Luan and felt indignant for Xiao Kun.
“Yes,” Xiao Kun admitted frankly. “Once I fix on someone, it’s them alone till death—no one else in my eyes. Unlike some who call everyone ‘brother’ so sweetly.”
Xiang Xian laughed. “What are you implying?”
Xiao Kun fell silent, pressing a hand to Xiang Xian’s brow. “Sleep. I’ll wake you if needed.”
Hearing those words, Xiang Xian wanted to sit up and declare seriously, “We’ve already bonded,” or “I’m devoted to you alone.” But it was still the sixth night; words could wait.
Xiang Xian drifted off. Xiao Kun stayed awake. Near the third watch, a wind swept through, lifting the spirit curtain.
“Wake up!” Xiao Kun said. “Your father’s back!”
Xiang Xian jolted awake but saw no ghost. Xiao Kun cast a spell; the spirit hall’s hues shifted, talismanic runes appeared on the curtains. At midnight, he gathered the nether yin qi from heaven and earth, blue soft light converging before the hall.
“What spell is this?” Xiang Xian asked in shock.
“Explain now?” Xiao Kun said. “Kowtow quick! I can’t hold it long!”
As a War Dead Corpse Ghost with the Power of the Abyss Dead and Netherworld Fire, Xiao Kun had the Spirit Communication Ability since childhood, but it couldn’t last amid his strong yang qi.
“Where?” Xiang Xian asked blankly.
A blurry figure emerged on the curtain before the hall. Xiang Xian saw it and kowtowed hastily.
“Father!”
The figure was Xiang Yu’s living likeness. Fresh grief and old sorrows surged; Xiang Xian laughed and cried, trembling: “Father! You’ve returned!”
The figure turned, gently stroking Xiang Xian’s head from afar.
“Speak! Say what you need!” Xiao Kun urged.
Xiang Xian racked his brain but found nothing, kneeling: “Father, are you well?”
Xiang Yu’s shadow seemed to smile. “Very well, Feng’er.”
“This is my brother Zhen Nu,” Xiang Xian said, beckoning Xiao Kun.
Xiao Kun whispered, “Don’t use my childhood name before Uncle.”
Xiao Kun knelt beside Xiang Xian before the curtain.
“Very good, very good,” Xiang Yu’s shadow said. “Feng’er, don’t grieve excessively. After today, do what you must.”
Xiang Xian hemmed and hawed, sobbing, nodding. Suddenly remembering, he said, “Father! Look at this!”
Xiao Kun: “?”
Xiang Xian produced the Imperial Jade Seal and opened it.
Xiao Kun: “…”
“Xiao Kun gave it to me,” Xiang Xian said.
Even the erudite Xiang Yu was startled by his son. “The Imperial Jade Seal?!”
Xiao Kun: “……………………………”
Showing the Imperial Jade Seal to a ghost stunned even Xiao Kun. Xiang Yu’s specter voice trembled: “Where did this come from? Never show it lightly!”
Xiao Kun rubbed his forehead.
Xiang Xian explained, “Just for you to see, Father.”
The curtain shadow laughed again. “Feng’er, though we father and son gathered little and parted much, those times brought me the joy of family.”
“Thank you, my son.” With that, Xiang Yu dissolved into a breeze behind the curtain.
Xiao Kun dispelled the spell and looked at Xiang Xian.
Tears in his eyes, Xiang Xian smiled. Xiao Kun sighed helplessly, pressed his head down, and they kowtowed three times before the hall.
The next morning, in his inner chamber dressed in plain clothes, Xiao Kun was about to remove the red rope from his wrist when Xie Yun arrived personally, dressing him in mourning clothes. “Don’t remove this. Wear it while escorting the spirit.”
Xiao Kun bowed hastily. After changing them both, Xie Yun smiled. “Go on.”
On that auspicious day, Xiao Kun and Xiang Xian escorted the spirit out of town, followed by mourning clansmen. At the ancestral tomb, they shoveled earth and planted trees. Xiang Xian planted the branch from Chaosheng outside the clan shrine, to bless the family’s prosperity.
After returning home and changing out of mourning clothes, they emerged to greet guests. The Xiang manor buzzed. Xiang Xian felt a weight lifted, stepping into a new life phase.
While toasting mourners, Xiang Xian noticed Xiao Kun at another table, laughing with elder clansmen and uncles, many over sixty, whom he gently urged to stay seated.
In the sunlight, Xiao Kun’s profile was strikingly handsome, elegant and upright in black-trimmed sleeves. A White Falcon alighted on his shoulder, astonishing the crowd.
Xiao Kun’s smile was intoxicating; women in the side garden peeked over fences, whispering and giggling.
Xiang Xian refocused as Xiao Kun unrolled a note from the White Falcon’s claw, excused himself, and slipped away.
“Letter from Kaifeng?” Xiang Xian asked.
Xiao Kun pocketed it quickly. “Nothing major. Later.”
Xiang Xian: “Let me see?”
Xiao Kun refused. “Tend to guests first. It can wait.”
Observing Xiao Kun’s odd expression, Xiang Xian frowned. “What happened? Tell me, or I’ll make a scene.”
“Nothing.” Xiao Kun turned serious. “The Cyan Wolf arrived.”
