The weather really started cooling down. Though it was supposed to be a dry season, lately, it had been raining more than usual. Just a few days ago, there was a rainstorm, and the dampness in the air hadn’t fully dissipated. The roads were muddy in many spots.

The thin summer clothes were put away, replaced by thicker garments. Zhou Song, however, wasn’t one to feel cold easily, so he still wore light clothes. After chopping wood in the yard, he was already sweating.

He stretched his arms, and a yellowing leaf drifted down right in front of him. He bent down to pick it up. Autumn had truly arrived. Once all the leaves fell, it would be winter, a season most in the village weren’t fond of. Winter brought trouble, with the bone-chilling cold that went straight to the bones.

Zhou Song didn’t particularly favor any of the four seasons. Aside from the change in temperature, each one was the same to him; the days were always the same routine. But starting this year, he might just start liking summer a bit more.

He released the leaf, letting it fall back to the ground, because of one person.

Setting down the axe, Zhou Song gathered up the scattered firewood and carried it back to the kitchen. In the corner, the firewood pile was stacked neatly, enough to last a good while. As he rolled up his sleeves and stepped out of the kitchen, a chilly autumn breeze blew by. He couldn’t help but wonder, when the heavy snow arrived, if Shen Qingzhu would be able to withstand that kind of cold.

Since Shen Qingzhu’s last illness, Zhou Song had been somewhat worried about his health. Growing up in the village, he was surrounded by sturdy folks who rarely even needed medicine when they caught a chill. No one had ever taken to bed for days like that.

Next time he went into the mountains, he thought he might go a bit deeper, maybe find a lone wolf or a fox, and bring back some furs just in case.

He picked up a small basket and headed to the backyard. The little chicks had grown up, their chirping turning into clucks, no longer as adorably naïve as when they were younger. But recently, they had started laying eggs, and Zhou Song collected quite a few each day. There was already a decent stockpile in the kitchen. He wanted to give some to Shen Qingzhu to help him recover, but he couldn’t think of a reason to give them.

The last time he gave Shen Qingzhu ginseng, it had been on impulse, and he’d nearly made a mess of things. He wouldn’t dare act so rashly again. He gathered the eggs from the coop one by one, counting seven or eight. They would spoil if left for too long, so he figured he’d fry up a plate with dinner later. If he couldn’t find an excuse to give them away, he’d just eat them himself.

“Bang bang bang!” The sound of someone banging on the courtyard door broke Zhou Song’s train of thought. He placed the eggs on a small stool by the kitchen door and went to pull open the latch.

Standing outside was Hu Lan, whom he hadn’t seen for quite some time. Ever since she’d gotten a harsh reception from Zhou Song, she hadn’t come around, giving him a much-needed break.

He opened the door, and Hu Lan lowered her raised hand, smiling. “Nephew, you haven’t even started cooking yet at this hour?”

Zhou Song didn’t respond, nor did he invite her in. He just looked at her, waiting for her to continue.

Since she had lost face in front of him last time, Hu Lan found him more and more displeasing. She muttered to herself that a kid without parents didn’t understand courtesy, but out loud, she said, “Your auntie came today to tell you that the Double Ninth Festival is in a couple of days, and your grandma wants you to come back. We’re all going up the mountain to pay respects to your grandfather and your father.”

If it weren’t for that old woman nagging in her ear all the time, Hu Lan wouldn’t bother coming to see this brat’s sour face. She’d put up with him before because he was useful, but now that he’d grown up, he was harder to manipulate, and she had no intention of warming herself against his coldness. But she couldn’t ignore the old woman who was constantly thinking about her grandson out there, even if he might not be thinking about her at all.

When he stayed silent, Hu Lan assumed he was unwilling and thought to herself that she wasn’t thrilled either. She pursed her lips. “Fine, if you don’t like visiting them normally, but you should go back and show respect for the elders on Double Ninth, as a way of honoring your father.”

Zhou Song lifted his eyes, not bothering to explain that his mind had wandered. “I’ll go.”

With his agreement, Hu Lan’s task was complete. She was about to leave but added, seemingly casually, “Oh, and don’t forget to bring enough offerings for your father and mother. Surely, you’re not going to be so stingy as to leave just bones for them.”

Picking up on her sarcasm, Zhou Song didn’t respond and simply closed the courtyard door in her face.

Left standing outside, Hu Lan’s face twisted with frustration, her eyebrows practically standing up in fury. This ill-mannered little brat!

Climbing mountains and paying respects to ancestors on Double Ninth was a time-honored tradition, a day for honoring elders. On this day, Qi Shan Village’s designated burial hill was bustling, second only to Qingming. Villagers carrying offerings could be seen going up and down the mountain.

Zhou Song’s parents were buried here, but he rarely came, only occasionally visiting to clear the weeds from their graves and burn paper money. It wasn’t that he was unwilling to pay respects, but every time he saw those two cold tombstones, it felt like he was standing in winter’s snow, the chill sinking to his bones.

When he was younger, he couldn’t accept his parents’ passing and often ran to their graves, sitting there the entire day until Aunt Qian found him with Lin Erzhu and brought him home.

From those early days of pain and anger to the time when he chose not to dwell on it, Zhou Song had grown used to living alone. Now, thinking of his parents no longer brought the secret tears of his childhood.

But some wounds never heal; touch them, and they still hurt.

“Why do we have to wake up so early just to worship some dead people?” Zhou Xiaofu, rubbing his eyes sleepily, muttered his complaint.

Walking beside him, Hu Lan swatted his back. “Watch your mouth! If your grandma hears you, she’ll give you an earful!”

Zhou Xiaofu rolled his eyes and huffed, “Grandma only has eyes for her precious grandson Qian Yuan now. She doesn’t even notice me anymore.”

Hu Lan glanced forward. Indeed, the old woman was holding Zhou Song’s hand tightly, not sparing them a single glance. Feeling a bit resentful, she grabbed her husband’s arm and complained, “It’s ridiculous. We’re the ones who care for her every day, yet as soon as that little brat shows up, she only has eyes for him.”

Zhou Dashan let out a mirthless laugh. “First, it was my beloved younger brother, and now, it’s my dear nephew. Hasn’t she always been this way?”

“It’s unbelievable how biased she is.” Hu Lan scowled at the pair ahead, rolling her eyes in disdain.

Only Wang Cuixiang walked silently, keeping her head down and not daring to join in.

Zhou Xiaofu gave her a disdainful look. Her quiet, meek nature bored him. If his mother hadn’t arranged this marriage, he would never have married such a dull woman. They’d been married for years now, and she hadn’t even had a child yet. Disgusted, he looked away, thinking to himself that only a delicate Kun Ze like Shen Qingzhu was a match for him.

With that thought, he glared at Zhou Song, who was walking in front. If it hadn’t been for that irritating cousin, he would’ve had a chance to ride in Shen Qingzhu’s carriage, winning his admiration and making good things happen.

Feeling the gaze on him, Zhou Song turned around. Zhou Xiaofu didn’t even try to hide his sour expression, coldly turning his gaze elsewhere when Zhou Song’s eyes met his. Used to his cousin’s hostile looks, Zhou Song paid no mind and turned back.

“Time really flies,” Granny Zhou, clutching her grandson’s hand, sighed deeply. “Your grandpa and the others have been gone for so many years…”

Zhou Song lowered his eyes. Yes, time flew.

Granny Zhou turned to look at him. “I remember when your father passed away, you were just a ten-year-old boy. Now, you’re grown, looking more and more like him…” Talking about her youngest son brought tears to her eyes, and she wiped them away. “If he were still here, he’d be so proud.”

If only Father were still alive… Zhou Song looked off into the distance. If only Father were still alive, Mother wouldn’t have become so sick from grief. She’d still be here, and he wouldn’t be so alone.

“Life and death are part of the cycle, Mother,” Hu Lan said, hurrying up to support the old woman’s other arm. “We should take more care of those still living.”

Granny Zhou gave her a glance but didn’t shake off her arm, simply reining in her grief.

Seeing Zhou Song’s silence, Hu Lan nudged Zhou Xiaofu forward, signaling for him to comfort the old woman.

Grumbling internally but obediently, Zhou Xiaofu went over and took Granny Zhou’s arm. “Grandma, don’t be sad. Seeing you like this hurts me.”

Granny Zhou, pulled a little by his arm, felt a bit comforted and softened, smiling faintly. “If you really don’t want me sad, then stop fooling around every day. Learn from your cousin and do something worthwhile.”

Hearing her start comparing him to Zhou Song again, Zhou Xiaofu’s face darkened. He didn’t want to listen. His cousin was only impressive because he was born a Qian Yuan; he had the advantage. If he’d been born a Qian Yuan too, he’d be better than this annoying cousin.

Seeing his expression turn sour, Hu Lan quickly squeezed him out of the way, pointing ahead. “Mother, aren’t we almost there?”

Still looking annoyed, Zhou Xiaofu glanced away, casting a dismissive look at the quiet Wang Cuixiang. He gave her a little shove. “Move, stop being so annoying.”

Stumbling from his push, Wang Cuixiang just clutched the basket of offerings and moved aside, putting some distance between them.

Zhou Dashan, catching sight of his son picking on his wife, sneered at him, feeling disgusted by his son’s uselessness. How could this worthless son be his?

Unbothered by their actions and thoughts, Zhou Song’s gaze had already fallen on the familiar outlines of several graves ahead.

Most of the Zhou family ancestors were buried here, their graves surrounded by a simple wall of gray bricks, marking the family’s resting place.

“Come, Ah Song, let’s start by offering incense to your grandpa,” Granny Zhou said, pulling him to one side.

The remnants of incense sticks from previous offerings lay before his grandfather’s grave, dried up. Zhou Song knelt down to clear them away, and Hu Lan tugged Zhou Xiaofu forward to help. But Zhou Song’s eyes drifted further back to where his parents were buried.