Jingpu City, the ancestral home of the Tao family.

Tao Fengche had been kneeling in front of Tao Zhixing’s coffin for three days straight. Even though Xu Song had brought him a cushion from the Buddha Hall to kneel on, he was finding it increasingly difficult to remain there.

But he couldn’t collapse, nor could he lose his resolve.

Jingpu had a tradition of vigil-keeping. It was said that the deceased would return home within three days to visit. During this period, relatives and children gathered together in the funeral hall, ensuring that there was always someone by the coffin, so that the departed would not return to an empty house, until the body was buried.

According to custom, the vigil was usually kept by the deceased’s children and their peers. However, the Tao family had always had few descendants, and by the time Tao Fengche’s generation came around, it had dwindled to a single line over three generations.

He was now the last living descendant of the Tao family in Jingpu, and there was no one else to take his place.

Xu Song couldn’t bear to see Tao Fengche struggling alone and had suggested bringing a few people from their circle to help with the vigil. But Tao Fengche was stubborn about this, insisting on accompanying his father alone for this final journey.

After three days, Tao Fengche only leaned against his father’s coffin and closed his eyes briefly when he absolutely couldn’t hold on any longer, waking up startled after no more than an hour. Otherwise, he remained silently kneeling in front of the coffin, head slightly bowed, his gaze fixed on the smooth marble floor, lost in thought or perhaps in penance.

While he knelt there for three days, the stock market in Jingpu had also been in turmoil for three days. Since the news of Tao Zhixing’s death spread, countless eyes had been focused on the Tao family ancestral home: mourners, onlookers, and those with ulterior motives. Jingpu had become a murky pool where everyone wanted to stir up trouble.

Amidst this undercurrent, Tao Fengche, who was at the center of the storm, seemed oblivious. After leaving the hospital, he instructed Xu Song to submit a leave notice to the school, then immediately returned home and focused all his attention on setting up the funeral hall for his father.

The Tao family’s vast estate was well-equipped, with an old building specifically preserved for this purpose, last opened over a decade ago. The time gap was so long that Tao Fengche’s memories had become blurry. He only remembered the high monk they had paid handsomely to perform a ritual in the vigil hall, with incense smoke swirling everywhere, making his head ache, and he felt like sneezing after inhaling it for too long.

At that time, Tao Zhixing was just over thirty years old. Holding his young son, he joked that since his son couldn’t stand the smell, he shouldn’t waste money like this when he passed away. He said he was accountable to heaven and earth and his conscience, and he didn’t need people to perform rituals for him.

People around him were shocked by his transcendence over life and death, and astonished by his contempt for gods and ghosts. Tao Fengche was still young at the time and didn’t understand his father’s words, only curious why his uncles had changed their faces. Later, as he grew older, he felt that this matter was too distant from him and gradually forgot about it.

But fate had played such a big joke on him.

The old building that was supposed to be sealed for at least forty years was reopened. Over a decade ago, Tao Fengche accompanied his grandmother’s send-off here; now, over a decade later, he came alone to prepare for his father’s send-off.

Truly, life is unpredictable.

The funeral hall was filled with the strong scent of sandalwood. In this rich and mellow fragrance, Tao Fengche suddenly fell into reminiscence. Although the old man also believed in Buddhism, he had a particularly unrestricted way of believing. Except for going to the temple every year to burn incense and a few special times, he basically never appeared in the temple.

No matter how many problems there were in the business, he never asked the gods and Buddhas to help him solve them. He only went to burn incense on the anniversaries of his parents and deceased wife, praying for them to have a safe and happy afterlife.

It was indeed free and easy. So Tao Fengche didn’t really arrange for a monk to perform rituals for him, and he didn’t know if his old man was happy about it.

“The guests have arrived.”

Zhao Jiayang suddenly pushed open the door, interrupting Tao Fengche’s thoughts.

In the center of the funeral hall hung a black and white portrait of Tao Zhixing, with elegiac couplets on either side. On the offering table was the spirit tablet, surrounded by Buddha’s hand melons and a string of perpetual lamps.

In front of the sandalwood coffin, a young man dressed in white mourning clothes knelt straight, like a tall bamboo. He hadn’t closed his eyes for too long, and the blood color on his face had long faded clean, leaving only a pair of obsidian-like eyes still remarkably bright. Except for the faint bloodshot in the depths of his eyes and his lips that had become paler than yesterday, there was no sign of exhaustion in him.

• Even if fate has played with him in every possible way, he seems to never be knocked down.

Tao Zhixing raised his son well. Zhao Jiayang looked at him quietly for a while, feeling a little complicated, and sighed silently.

Tao Fengche spoke in a voice as dry as sandpaper, “Then… please come in.”

With the wake paused for three days, the final day was reserved for receiving condolence guests. Unknowingly, dawn had broken, and it was time.

Tao Fengche hadn’t spoken in a long time. As soon as he spoke, he startled himself, quickly clearing his throat. His legs had gone numb from kneeling, and when he stood up, he nearly stumbled, hastily flexing his sore muscles.

The maid from the Tao household, who came in with Zhao Jiayang, timely handed over a cup of honey water. Tao Fengche took a sip and then turned to Zhao Jiayang, saying, “Thank you.”

Tao Fengche’s tone was solemn. Despite his young age and lack of experience in handling funerals, he was reluctant to delegate this task to others. Xu Song, though elderly, and despite Tao Zhixing’s recent efforts to clean up their act, the Tao family’s dual business lines, both overt and covert, formed a complex web of relationships. He alone could not ensure everything was done perfectly.

Fortunately, Zhao Jiayang was there.

From arranging the wake, choosing the coffin, to issuing the obituary, it was all done with the coordination of Zhao Jiayang and Xu Song. Thanks to his help, Tao Zhixing was able to complete this final journey with dignity.

“…You’re exaggerating.” Zhao Jiayang paused, rubbing his head, “It’s what I should do. Besides, I have more experience in these matters than you.”

Tao Fengche understood. Zhao Jiayang’s experience referred to… the funeral he had personally handled two years ago for Chu Yin.

He opened his mouth but didn’t know what to say at this moment. Fortunately, Zhao Jiayang himself didn’t want to dwell on such a heartbreaking matter and quickly changed the subject, “Have you found it?”

Tao Fengche sighed, “No.”

By “it,” he meant the jade ring that Tao Zhixing always wore—a symbol of authority passed down through generations of patriarchs in the Tao family.

Tao Zhixing’s pharmaceutical company wasn’t publicly traded. Apart from the five percent owned by Tao Fengche, Tao Zhixing held eighty percent of the shares, giving him absolute control over the company. Once the transfer of shares was complete, negotiations could proceed as planned. However, the illicit business dealings recently had been unstable. With Tao Zhixing murdered, anyone with ulterior motives was eagerly awaiting an opportunity. Losing the ring was like handing them a target.

Tao Zhixing’s personal lawyer was due this afternoon to read the will. Tao Fengche wasn’t particularly worried about its contents, but without the ring, he wouldn’t command respect within the faction.

Despite spending the last three days kneeling in the funeral hall, Tao Fengche had been active. He had instructed Xu Song on two matters: to uncover the truth behind Tao Zhixing’s accident and to find the ring within the house—something that had been on Tao Zhixing’s hand just before the car accident and couldn’t have disappeared without a trace.

But despite their efforts, Xu Song and his team had turned the ancestral home upside down. Every safe and hidden compartment had been meticulously searched, yet they hadn’t found a trace.

The uncle and nephew exchanged a glance, both sighing.

Today was going to be a tough battle.

“You can let the guests in now.”

He said this to the maid, who promptly obeyed.

···

Tao Zhixing’s sudden death had indeed stirred up quite a storm in Jingpu.

As soon as the obituary was announced, condolences poured in like snowflakes, with dignitaries and merchants sending wreaths from the foot of the mountain to the entrance of the funeral hall. The Tao family’s bodyguards stood guard, two rows deep at the entrance of the estate, verifying identities before allowing entry. Journalists and those deemed unworthy were strictly forbidden, yet despite this, guests continued to arrive in a steady stream.

Guests, dressed neatly with white flowers on their chests, entered the funeral hall in an orderly fashion. They bowed respectfully in front of the memorial tablet, shook hands with Tao Fengche, and offered words of encouragement.

Whether sincere or not, they had put on a good show. After half a day, Tao Fengche’s ears were calloused from listening, and Zhao Jiayang, standing behind him, was equally exhausted.

The order in which the five councillors and the mayor of Jingpu arrived varied. As the afternoon approached five o’clock, Tao Fengche escorted the last guest out of the funeral hall, looked up at the sky, and sighed heavily.

The weather was fine that day, with clear skies and gentle winds. If only the atmosphere indoors matched the weather outside.

Though the lawyer hadn’t arrived yet, some of the elders in the firm couldn’t sit still. Several old men were eyeing them eagerly, and if Zhao Jiayang hadn’t been there to support him, they might have caused trouble then and there.

Time passed second by second, and Tao Fengche mechanically entertained the guests who arrived, his expression as stoic as if it were carved from a mold, hiding his inner anxiety.

But just as he wondered what to do next, a commotion outside the funeral hall interrupted his thoughts.

“Nobody enters except the lawyer! The rest should wait outside!” The noise outside grew louder, and Tao Fengche knew immediately that the loudest voice belonged to the most impulsive bodyguard in the house.

If he kept shouting like that, there might be a gunfight later. Shedding blood at a funeral was definitely ominous.

He sighed and raised his voice to intervene, “No guns at the funeral. Let them in.”

Gradually, the noise subsided.

From the moment he heard the word “lawyer,” unrelated guests began to leave one after another. Those still inside the funeral hall were deeply involved in the Tao family’s covert business, their faces variously colored, their eyes fixed on the entrance, each calculating their own schemes.

Yet, the first person to appear in everyone’s eyes was unexpectedly not the lawyer.

The man who walked in first was dressed in a full black suit. Perhaps due to the heat outside, he took off his suit jacket and handed it to his subordinate, wearing only a black shirt. A white rose was pinned to his chest, and he leisurely folded his black umbrella.

He was extremely tall, at least over six feet, with shoulder-length light gray hair slightly curled, smooth like fine silk. His features were delicate to the extreme, almost feminine, yet with a prominent nose bridge and gray-blue eyes that seemed constantly veiled in mist.

It was a very exquisite and exotic face.

He looked young, not much older than twenty, yet he was accompanied by several men, each armed, clearly indicating his position ahead of Tao Zhixing’s personal lawyer.

Whispers murmured around, but Tao Fengche stared straight at his face, as if entranced.

Sunlight streamed in from behind the man, illuminating his nearly translucent fair skin. On his right thumb gleamed a lush jade ring, accentuating his slender fingers and distinct knuckles.

Whether the ring or this face, to Tao Fengche, both were unmistakably familiar.

This face, he would never forget in his lifetime.

Although… he had always thought he was dead.